‘I took a call at my home from Mrs Elliot in the early hours of May 12th.’
‘She called you at home? Is she a personal acquaintance?’
‘No, but all candidates for public office are able to get in touch with me directly. They are often the subject of threats, real or imagined, and it was no secret that Mr Elliot had received several death threats since he’d declared for governor.’
‘When Mrs Elliot called you, did you record her exact words?’
‘You bet I did,’ said the chief. ‘She sounded hysterical, and was shouting. I remember I had to hold the phone away from my ear, in fact she woke my wife.’ A little laughter broke out in the court for a second time, and Culver waited until it had died down before he added, ‘I wrote down her exact words on a pad I keep next to the phone.’ He opened a notebook.
Fletcher was on his feet. ‘Is this admissible?’ he asked.
‘It was on the agreed list of prosecutions documents, your honour,’ Ebden intervened, ‘as I feel sure Mr Davenport is aware. He’s had weeks to consider its relevance, not to mention importance.’
The judge nodded to the chief. ‘Carry on,’ he said as Fletcher resumed his seat.
‘ “My husband has been shot in his study, please come as quickly as possible”,’ said the chief, reading from his notebook.
‘What did you say?’
‘I told her not to touch anything, and I’d be with her just as soon as I could get there.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Two twenty-six,’ the chief replied after rechecking his notebook.
‘And when did you arrive at the Elliots’ home?’
‘Not until three nineteen. First I had to call the station and tell them to send the most senior detective available to the Elliots’ residence. I then got dressed, so that when I eventually made it, I found two of my patrolmen had already arrived — but then they didn’t have to get dressed.’ Once again laughter broke out around the courtroom.
‘Please describe to the jury exactly what you saw when you first arrived.’
‘The front door was open, and Mrs Elliot was sitting on the floor in the hallway, her knees hunched up under her chin. I let her know I was there, and then joined Detective Petrowski in Mr Elliot’s study. Mr Petrowski,’ the chief added, ‘is one of the most respected detectives on my force, with a great deal of experience of homicide, and as he seemed to have the investigation well under way I left him to get on with his job, while I returned to Mrs Elliot.’
‘Did you then question her?’
‘Yes, I did,’ replied the chief.
‘But wouldn’t Detective Petrowski already have done that?’
‘Yes, but it’s often useful to get two statements so that one can compare them later and see if they differ on any essential points.’
‘Your honour, these statements are hearsay,’ Fletcher interjected.
‘And did they?’ Ebden hurriedly asked.
‘No, they did not.’
‘Objection,’ Fletcher emphasized.
‘Overruled Mr Davenport. As has already been pointed out, you have had access to these documents for several weeks.’
‘Thank you, your honour,’ said Ebden. ‘I would like you to tell the court what you did next, chief.’
‘I suggested that we go and sit in the front room, so that Mrs Elliot would be more comfortable. I then asked her to take me slowly through what had happened that evening. I didn’t hurry her, as witnesses are quite often resentful of being asked exactly the same questions a second or third time. After she’d finished her cup of coffee, Mrs Elliot eventually told me that she had been asleep in bed when she heard the first shot. She switched on the light, put on her robe and went to the top of the stairs and that was when she heard the second shot. She then watched as Mr Cartwright ran out of the study towards the open door. He turned to look back, but couldn’t have seen her in the darkness at the top of the stairs, although she recognized him immediately. She then ran downstairs and into the study where she found her husband lying on the floor in a pool of blood. She immediately called me at home.’
‘Did you continue to question her?’
‘No, I left a female officer with Mrs Elliot while I checked over her original statement. After a further consultation with Detective Petrowski, I drove to Mr Cartwright’s home accompanied by two other officers, arrested the defendant and charged him with the murder of Ralph Elliot.’
‘Had he gone to bed?’
‘No, he was still in the clothes he had been wearing on the television programme that night.’
‘No more questions, your honour.’
‘Your witness, Mr Davenport.’
Fletcher walked across to the witness stand with a smile on his face. ‘Good afternoon, chief. I won’t detain you for long, as I’m only too aware how busy you are, but I do nevertheless have three or four questions that need answering.’ The chief didn’t return Fletcher’s smile. ‘To begin with, I would like to know what period of time passed between your receiving the phone call at your home from Mrs Elliot, and when you placed Mr Cartwright under arrest.’
The chief’s fingers twitched again while he considered the question. ‘Two hours, two and a half at the most,’ he eventually said.
‘And when you arrived at Mr Cartwright’s house, how was he dressed?’
‘I’ve already told the court that — in exactly the same clothes as he was wearing on television that night.’
‘So he didn’t open the door in his pyjamas and dressing gown looking as if he had just got out of bed?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said the chief, puzzled.
‘Don’t you think that a man who had just committed a murder might want to get undressed and into bed at two o’clock in the morning, so that should the police suddenly turn up on his doorstep, he could at least give an impression of having been asleep?’
The chief frowned. ‘He was comforting his wife.’
‘I see,’ said Fletcher. ‘The murderer was comforting his wife, so let me ask you, chief, when you arrested Mr Cartwright, did he make a statement?’
‘No,’ the chief replied, ‘he said he wanted to speak to his lawyer first.’
‘But did he say anything at all that you might have recorded in your trusty notebook?’
‘Yes,’ said the chief, and flipped back some pages of the notebook before carefully studying an entry. ‘Yes,’ he repeated with a smile, ‘Cartwright said, “but he was still alive when I left him”.’
‘But he was still alive when I left him,’ repeated Fletcher. ‘Hardly the words of a man who is trying to hide the fact that he had been there at all. He doesn’t get undressed, he doesn’t go to bed, and he openly admits he was at Elliot’s house earlier that evening.’ The chief remained silent. ‘When he accompanied you to the police station, did you take his fingerprints?’
‘Yes of course.’
‘Did you carry out any other tests?’ asked Fletcher.
‘What did you have in mind?’ asked the chief.
‘Don’t play games with me,’ said Fletcher, his voice revealing a slight edge. ‘Did you carry out any other tests?’
‘Yes,’ said the chief. ‘We checked under his fingernails to see if there was any sign that he had fired a gun.’
‘And was there any indication that Mr Cartwright had fired a gun?’ asked Fletcher returning to his more conciliatory tone.
The chief hesitated. ‘We could find no powder residue on his hands or under his fingernails.’
‘There was no powder residue on his hands or under his fingernails,’ said Fletcher, facing the jury.
‘Yes, but he’d had a couple of hours to wash his hands and scrub his nails.’