‘Ten, including me, as has already been stated several times.’
‘And they all enjoyed a portion of caviar, before moving on to the main course?’
‘Without exception. In fact, one or two of them had a second helping.’
‘Did they indeed?’
Booth Watson once again began tugging repeatedly at the lapels of his gown, despite the fact that Sir Julian was staring at him.
‘I only ask, Mr Faulkner, because a single jar of Royal Beluga caviar, like the one you have in your hands, enough for two portions, is on sale at Fortnum and Mason for £340. But to be sure, I asked Fortnum’s manager, a Mr Nightingale, how much I would need if I was holding a dinner party for ten. He recommended seven hundred and fifty grams.’ She looked directly at the jury as she said, ‘Not twelve grams, which would just about fill a teaspoon.’
The trap had been set, and Grace waited for Faulkner to step into it. But at last Booth Watson had caught his client’s attention, and he remained silent.
‘You won’t be surprised to learn, Mr Faulkner, that I then asked Mr Nightingale how much seven hundred and fifty grams of caviar would cost – enough for ten people. He told me £1,700, but said he would throw in the biscuits for free.’
A little laughter broke out in the gallery, but the judge’s frown ensured that no one in the body of the court joined in.
‘M’lud,’ said Grace, ‘Mr Nightingale will be happy to appear before the court to confirm these figures, but you may feel that won’t be necessary, as Mr Faulkner has already sworn under oath that his chef served ten portions of caviar for himself and his guests that night, on silver platters, and that one or two of them enjoyed a second helping.’
An outbreak of chattering broke out in the courtroom. Grace took a deep breath and waited until she once again had everyone’s attention.
‘I accept, Mr Faulkner, that when it comes to the price of cocaine, you are clearly well informed, as you made clear when you said under oath that if the twelve grams found in your home had been for your personal use, it would have been enough for a year. I also acknowledge that you enjoy a reputation as a brilliant dealmaker. But I doubt if even you could have talked Fortnum and Mason into selling 1,700 pounds’ worth of their finest Beluga caviar for eight hundred pounds.’ Grace smiled at Faulkner. The trap had been sprung, and she now felt confident he could not escape. However, she still had one final question.
‘Do you think Mr Heath was telling the truth when he said, “The goods I picked up from Fortnum’s that morning at Mr Faulkner’s request were a dozen jars of the finest Royal Beluga caviar”?’
Faulkner looked as if he wanted to answer back, but no words came out of his mouth.
‘Mr Nightingale will also confirm that he was on duty at the store that morning, and the only dozen jars of caviar that were purchased were from a representative of the Queen Mother.’
Faulkner’s lips were now pursed, his cheeks flushed, and he had to grip the edge of the witness box to stop himself shaking.
‘Dare I ask, Mr Faulkner, if the Queen Mother was one of your dinner guests at Limpton Hall that night?’
This time the judge made no attempt to quell the laughter that followed, and even allowed himself a smile.
Grace waited for complete silence before she turned to face the jury and said, ‘No more questions, m’lud.’
She collapsed on the bench, exhausted, as the rest of the home team gathered around to congratulate her.
When they returned home that night, Grace told Clare that of the many plaudits heaped on her following her cross-examination, none could compare with overhearing her father telling an elderly colleague, ‘She’s my daughter, you know.’
After the judge had called on leading counsel to make their closing remarks, a suddenly revived and reinvigorated Sir Julian rose from his place and delivered a damning indictment of the accused to a spellbound jury.
The price of caviar was mentioned on more than one occasion, and he ended by reminding them that the accused seemed to be well aware of the cost of twelve grams of pure cocaine, even if he had no idea of the price of the finest caviar. He threw in for good measure Mr Nightingale’s evidence concerning the Queen Mother, which Booth Watson didn’t dispute. By the time he sat down, Sir Julian was in no doubt that the jury was well capable of working out who had been responsible for hiding the drugs in Faulkner’s statue on the night in question, and it certainly wasn’t his son.
Booth Watson didn’t cut quite such a convincing figure, as he tried gallantly to defend his client’s credibility. Rembrandt and Rubens received several honourable mentions, whereas Fortnum and Mason and Mr Nightingale were not referred to. He described Miles Faulkner as a good and honourable man, who had served both the nation and his local community with distinction. He suggested that the tragic death of Adrian Heath had robbed his client of the opportunity of a fair trial, and told the jury they should keep that in mind when considering their verdict, because if they were not convinced of Mr Faulkner’s guilt beyond reasonable doubt, they must release him from the dreadful prospect of prison so that he could continue his charitable works on behalf of his fellow men.
Mr Justice Baverstock’s summing up was both thorough and impartial, although he did point out that if the jury came to the conclusion that it was Faulkner who had hidden the cocaine in the statue, it could clearly not be regarded as being for his own ‘recreational’ use in the privacy of his home, as he himself had confirmed it would be enough to last him a year. However, he added, the Crown had failed to provide any evidence to show that Mr Faulkner
