His outburst seemed to have taken all thestuffing out of Broom. He slumped forward onto his hands againstthe railing. After a long pause, while the galleries and counselwaited, transfixed, he said, “Just once.”
“How can you be in love just once?”
“It was six months ago. We went for a walk.In the spring. Down by the creek. We . . . kissed.”
“You both liked stories and flights of fancy,didn’t you?”
“Yes. But she was terrified her father wouldfind out. I was fond of her, but she forbade me to see her aloneany more. I never approached her in that way again. Even when shebrung Burton’s lunch to the mill, I didn’t tease her the way theother fellas did.”
“Milord, this testimony is goingnowhere.”
“I agree, Mr. Cambridge. Mr. Edwards, get tosome point or move on.”
“The point is this,” Marc said, standing onhis toes and trying his best to teeter the way he had seen DoubtfulDick do it. “Mr. Broom, you have admitted you like to make upstories. You have admitted you were in love with Betsy Thurgood. Isuggest you have fabricated the entire story of the rape in thestall. I submit that you yearned for your forbidden love, that youknew Betsy would be alone in the barn, that you accosted her, andwhen she resisted you, you forced yourself upon her. Terrified andashamed, the girl went back to Spadina and kept quiet. Meanwhile,Mr. Broom, you went blithely home that evening, and the nextmorning fled to Port Talbot, where your father is likely alive andthriving. Having learned by letter that Betsy did not tell on you,you returned here two months later. I submit, sir, that youraped Betsy Thurgood.!”
There was sensation everywhere in thecourtroom. The judge banged his gavel and had to threaten to clearthe room to regain a semblance of order. Marc sat down amid theclamour, shaking but satisfied. He had done his duty. That was allhe could say for himself.
When Neville Cambridge was finally able toreconfigure his aplomb, he said to the pale and trembling witness,“Let us now, Mr. Broom, return from flights of fancy to reality. Iwant you to go back and tell the jury the plain and simple truth. Ipromise not to interrupt you, badger you, or put words into yourmouth.”
Slowly but with increasing confidence, Broomwas able to retell his original story. But the doubts that Marc hadsown hung heavily over his every word. Cambridge had one trump cardleft, however.
“If you had done the deed yourself, sir, tellme: would you have returned to Toronto and, finding no charges hadbeen laid against you, would you have gone to the police andreported an incident that everybody had forgotten?”
The answer was obvious: to the jury andeveryone else in the chamber.
At this point the judge adjourned the trialuntil Wednesday morning.
***
When Marc stepped into the wig-room, the smallenrobing area for attorneys, he was surprised to see Cobb sittingon one of the stools, his helmet at his feet. His face was rigidwith anger, the dark eyes ablaze on either side of the alarminglyscarlet nostrils.
“Cobb, old friend, you shouldn’t be in here,”Marc said quietly.
“I got as much right in here as you’ve got ina court of law!” Cobb stood up, fists clenched.
“I take it from your look that you do notapprove of my conduct this afternoon?”
“That’s right. And you c’n throw in thismornin’ and yesterday, too!”
“I’m a barrister, Cobb. I have a duty toperform, and it often is not a pleasant one.”
“Ya mean pullin’ fancy tricks to let a guiltyman go free!”
“My client insists he is innocent, and I amhonour bound to believe him unless I know otherwise forcertain.”
“And we ain’t given you enough to be certain,is that it?”
“That’s going to be for the jury to decide,not you or me.”
“I give the prosecutor more than enough toconvict Seamus Baldwin, and you ripped it apart piece bypiece.”
Marc tried to be patient. He understoodCobb’s anger and disappointment, and it was never easy explaininghow a barrister’s obligations worked or what tactics wereconsidered fair play. “I repeat: I was doing my job.”
“So you really think that old goat isinnocent?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“But you don’t believe Jake Broom raped thatyoung girl, do you?” Cobb stared Marc down, daring him toequivocate.
“It’s not likely, no. But it is possible, andit’s my task to let the jury know of that possibility, howeverremote.”
Cobb’s red face grew redder. His eyebrowssprung forward as if to give extra weight to his words. “You ruinedthat young man’s life out there. He was an honest, innocent boy andyou took advantage of him. How is that different from what Baldwindid to Betsy?”
Marc was fast losing patience. “All right,you’ve made your point. Now please let me get out of this wig andgown.”
“I ain’t finished yet!” Cobb yelled.
Marc went over and quietly shut the door.“Okay, go on, if you must.”
“What I’m thinkin’, and I never figured I’dever say this, is that you don’t care whether Seamus Baldwin isguilty or innocent. You’re doin’ what you’re doin’ to please theBaldwins, to save their political necks. ‘Cause you and I both knowthat unless you get the old bugger off – however you do it – theBaldwins are finished as politicians. You’re all in this to savethe Reform party!”
Marc’s patience had worn itself out. “And whoare you to talk, eh?”
“Whaddya mean? I done my job right andproper.”
“Because you want the law upheld? Or is itrather because you’re hoping to impress the Chief and have himrecommend you for the new detective’s position?”
“How in blazes did you know about that?”
“Easily. Wilf came to ask my advice and pickmy brain.”
“Well, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree. Iwas asked to carry out a fair and objective investigation – likeyou taught me – and I did just that.”
“Well, then, why can’t you accept that I’mdoing my duty in the same way?”
“’Cause I didn’t set out to destroy people’slives on the witness-stand.”
Marc paused, lowered his voice, and said,“Your incomplete investigation has resulted in the ruin of agentleman’s health and will in all probability lead to hispremature death.”
“What are you talkin’ about -incomplete?”
“I meant what I said. You did an incomplete,flawed investigation.”
“What didn’t I do?” This conversation was notgoing the way Cobb had envisioned it.
“For starters, you failed to realize thatBetsy’s two-month pregnancy was merely an estimate. Did it notoccur to you that Betsy could have been pregnant before shearrived at Spadina in late July? If so, then a dozen young ladsfrom that neighbourhood could have been her beau or become obsessedwith her. And anyone could have reached that barn unnoticed fromthe path along the creek, a creek that runs all the way past theworkers’ houses. And you forgot your own wife’s testimony about thetone of Betsy’s dying statement. In short, you failed tokeep going in your investigation because you accepted SeamusBaldwin as your prime suspect from the beginning, and then lookedat all subsequent evidence in that light.”
“What about the bushy hair?” Cobbspluttered.
“I demonstrated that a few minutes ago: atrick of light and shadow. We both have stood in that barn doorwayand gazed into that stall. So you know perfectly well what I’mtalking about. Is it not possible that there was no rape, butmerely a sexual liaison between Betsy and some local with lots ofbrown or blond hair? I hate to say it, Cobb, but you simply did notdo your job.”
“I don’t have to stand here and listen to yerlawyer’s double-talk!” Cobb cried.
“It was you who came steaming in here,” Marcsaid, steaming himself.
“Well, I’m steamin’ out now!”
With that, Cobb marched to the door, openedit, and slammed it shut. Then, aware that he had left his helmetinside, he slipped back in, avoided Marc’s eyes, scooped up thehelmet, strode to the door and slammed it even harder. Then hestomped off, Marc’s taunting phrase “didn’t do your job” abuzz inhis head. He had not been this angry in his entire life.