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Graves turned to look at him. ‘I thought you were here as an assistant.’
Kitteridge drew in his breath to speak, and let it out silently. It was a mark of his anxiety that he let Daniel get away with the interruption.
‘I am,’ Daniel replied. ‘I am trying to assist you to understand that your life depends on the twelve men of the jury being willing to believe that in spite of the evidence, there is reasonable doubt that you are responsible for your wife’s death. Whatever the truth is, all the facts shown so far are against you. We’ve got this morning to convince them to look beyond those facts, and see a decent man, not unlike themselves, who’s caught up in a tragedy not of his making. We have to persuade them that they do not want to convict you – they would much rather find a reason to acquit – so they will look for a reason.’
Graves raised his eyebrows, but his face was very white. ‘Are they really so . . . guided by their emotions, rather than their reason?’ There was a certain contempt in his tone. ‘I did not kill her! Do you not believe in the justice system you serve, Mr . . .? I’m sorry, I forget your name.’
‘Pitt. And no, I do not believe it is infallible. Nobody who has studied the law could believe anything so – so fanciful. It is run by men. It is subject to all misconceptions and weaknesses that men have,’ Daniel replied.
Graves looked at Kitteridge. ‘Have you also such a jaundiced view of the law, Mr Kitteridge?’
Kitteridge did not look at Daniel. ‘We are dealing with people, Mr Graves. People make mistakes.’
Graves looked back at Daniel. ‘And where did you study law, young man?’
Daniel looked back at him without blinking. ‘Cambridge, sir.’
‘Really . . .?’ Graves was taken by surprise. ‘And just what is it you suggest I do to get these twelve very ordinary men to believe that I am innocent? I did not kill my wife, and I have absolutely no idea who did. I am a very busy man, a leader in my field. I have no idea with whom my wife consorted, who might have wished her harm. Perhaps I am guilty of pursuing my career to a degree that I did not go to parties, and local events, of such like with her. They bore me stiff, and I cannot afford the time. But I quite saw how she might enjoy them, and I gave her an ample budget, and the freedom to do as she chose. Perhaps that is something they would not understand?’
One thing Daniel did understand, and that was why they would dislike Graves’ arrogance to the point where they would find it a pleasure to return a verdict of guilty. ‘The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker,’ he said aloud. ‘No, perhaps they would not, you being a man whose time is too important to attend their events.’
‘Whatever you think of them, Mr Graves,’ said Kitteridge, ‘they have your life in their hands. If you don’t want to hang, you’d be wise not to treat them so condescendingly. Their revenge will be all too easy. One word will do it . . .’
Graves look startled. ‘One word? I . . .’
Kitteridge spoke it for him. ‘Guilty.’
‘But I’m not guilty!’ Desperation raised Graves’ voice almost an octave.
‘Convince me,’ Daniel said.
Graves looked at Daniel as if he were a rather tedious child who needed even the simplest things explaining.
‘I wasn’t even at home! I have no idea who her close friends were. I don’t know whether she was having an affair, or even half a dozen. I don’t know if she offended someone. She was outspoken, even rude. She had unconventional ideas, unsuitable and eccentric friends. She gave her opinions far too freely, regardless of whom she offended. She was a beautiful woman, and dressed to show it off far too frequently. God knows how many enemies she may have made. I didn’t restrain her activities at all.’
Graves’ face was sad, and twisted with outrage at the injustice of the situation.
Daniel looked at Kitteridge. Oddly enough, it was not exasperation he felt, or even anger at the man’s arrogance. It was something of the same feeling as he thought Kitteridge had: a genuine concern that the man might be speaking the truth. And, the moment after, the near certainty that the jury would be only too happy to convict him.
He glanced at Kitteridge and saw that same conclusion in his eyes. He also saw that Kitteridge had an idea, albeit a faint one.
Kitteridge rose to his feet. ‘We will see you shortly, in court, Mr Graves. We will do our best for you, whether you assist us or not. That is our job.’ And he walked past Daniel and went to the door.
Daniel stood also, but still looking at Graves. Whatever he felt, it was his duty to defend him. And it was very much in his interest to please Marcus fford Croft, whatever his reason for taking Graves’ case. His feelings for Kitteridge were more mixed than before. He did not dislike him so wholeheartedly. It had been a very good dinner last night, and there was a pleasure in working with someone as clever as Kitteridge was.
The trial reopened exactly on time. The judge presiding was an elderly man with a thin ascetic face and a reputation for surprisi
ng wit. Daniel fancied he could see traces of it in the deep lines around his mouth. His face might look quite different if he smiled.
For the prosecution was Alister Tranmere, KC. It was a title any lawyer would aspire to: KC stood for King’s Counsel. He was a formidable opponent for Kitteridge to face. Daniel wished he had taken the time to look him up. Not that he was going to do anything but assist Kitteridge in finding the right references at the right times. And it would take a lot more than that to keep Russell Graves from the gallows.
In a hushed court, Kitteridge stood and called Graves to the stand. Daniel could not help but contrast this with yesterday. Was it only twenty-four hours ago that he had been in Kitteridge’s position, standing in a far lower court, with a gallery full of a noisy, jostling crowd, trying to save Blackwell’s life? But then he had had a plan, and Ottershaw on his side.
Kitteridge, with his odd face, his well-cut suit, and his bony hands, looked far more afraid than Daniel had felt. He was facing a pillar of the establishment in Alister Tranmere, and Daniel would bet a week’s rent that every one of the sober, well-fed jury already believed Graves to be guilty.
Graves crossed the body of the court, and walked with shoulders back and head high across to the steps to the witness stand. He climbed up with only one slight stumbling step when he was almost at the top. Daniel saw his muscles clench as he grasped the rail.
Would the jurors take his attitude as arrogance, or courage? What did Daniel himself take it for?
