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Lamont didn’t respond.
“The Keystone Cops couldn’t have come up with a better story,” said Booth Watson, looking directly at the jury.
“It’s my belief that the defendant had concealed the twelve wraps of cocaine in the statue before our arrival, with the intention of distributing them among his guests later that evening. We just got our timing wrong.”
“It’s my belief that you got your timing right, and having failed to come up with anything incriminating after searching my client’s home for more than two hours, someone carried out your orders and conveniently planted the drugs in the statue.”
“That’s a ridiculous suggestion,” said Lamont, trying to control his temper.
“Would it also be ridiculous to suggest that, not for the first time in your career, you chose to turn a blind eye when false evidence was planted by one of your colleagues in an attempt to secure a conviction?”
“Quite ridiculous,” came back Lamont, almost shouting.
“Possibly a young, impressionable detective sergeant who wanted to please the officer in charge of the investigation?”
“Even more ridiculous,” said Lamont, his voice rising with every word.
“A detective sergeant who just happened to know exactly where the drugs were, because that’s where he’d planted them?”
“That’s a scurrilous accusation, My Lord,” said Sir Julian, leaping to his feet.
“Especially when the detective sergeant in question just happens to be the son of the Crown’s leading counsel.”
Sir Julian would have responded, but he wouldn’t have been heard above the outburst that followed, when several people turned around to look at William, who was unable to hide his anger.
The judge waited for the clamor to die down before he frowned at the defense counsel, and said, “I do hope, Mr. Booth Watson, that you have some proof of these random accusations, otherwise I shall have no choice but to advise the jury to ignore your words and ask you to be more circumspect in future.”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t have been random accusations, My Lord, had Sir Julian allowed Detective Sergeant Warwick to give evidence from the witness box under oath rather than his boss.”
This time the outcry lasted for some time before the judge was able to regain order when he pronounced, “Do not try my patience any further, Mr. Booth Watson, or I may have to order a retrial, and consider you in contempt of court.”
“And we wouldn’t want that, would we, My Lord,” said Booth Watson, the only person who’d remained calm during this exchange. He turned his attention back to the witness before the judge could respond and said, “Superintendent, would I be right in thinking that you regard Mr. Faulkner as a dangerous criminal, who should be locked up for the rest of his life because the jury got it wrong?”
“At last we’ve found something we can agree on,” shouted Lamont, jabbing a finger at Booth Watson.
“A little louder please,” said Booth Watson, “just in case the jury didn’t hear you the first time—and might also get it wrong.” He looked up at the bench and said, “No more questions, m’lud.”
Everyone remained on the edge of their seats, waiting for Sir Julian to come out fighting, but were once again taken by surprise when the Crown’s leading advocate rose from his place and said with an exaggerated sigh, “That completes the case for the Crown, m’lud. However, I wonder if I might be allowed to make a personal statement?”
Mr. Justice Baverstock nodded, and Booth Watson settled back, closed his eyes, and crossed his arms, giving the impression of a victorious general awaiting triumphant news from the battlefield. But to his surprise Sir Julian wasn’t yet ready to agree the terms of surrender.
“It is, as you know, m’lud, an established practice at the criminal bar for a leader to allow his junior to cross-examine a defense witness. So, if Mr. Booth Watson plans to call the defendant to give evidence, I shall step aside and leave that responsibility to my junior, Ms. Grace Warwick, if it so pleases Your Lordship.”
Booth Watson opened his eyes, unfolded his arms, and said in a voice loud enough for those around him to hear, “What’s he up to?”
William smiled, but then he knew exactly what his father was up to.
“I shall look forward to that with pleasure, Sir Julian,” said the judge, before he added, “we will reconvene at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
* * *
“I would strongly advise against it,” said Booth Watson.
“Why?” demanded Faulkner.
“Because you have nothing to gain from it, while she has nothing to lose.”
“But don’t forget, it’s the pupil I’ll be up against, not the master.”
