‘Well, I might have been half-way down the stairs.’
‘You weren’t even on the stairs Mrs Elliot, you were in the hallway, and you were not, as you also claimed, in your robe, but in a blue dress that you had worn to a cocktail party earlier that evening, which is why you didn’t see the television debate!’
‘I was in a robe and there’s a picture of me to prove it.’
‘Indeed there is,’ said Fletcher, once again returning to the table and extracting another photograph, ‘which I am happy to enter as evidence — item 122, your honour.’
The judge, prosecution team and the jury began to rummage through their files as Fletcher handed over his copy to Mrs Elliot.
‘There you are,’ she said, ‘it’s just as I told you, I’m sitting in the hallway in my robe.’
‘You are indeed, Mrs Elliot, and that photograph was taken by the police photographer, and we’ve since had it enlarged so we can consider all the details more clearly. Your honour, I would like to submit this enlarged photograph as evidence.’
‘Objection, your honour,’ said Ebden leaping up from his place. ‘We have not been given an opportunity to study this photograph.’
‘It’s state’s evidence, Mr Ebden, and has been in your possession for weeks,’ the judge reminded him. ‘Your objection is overruled.’
‘Please study the photograph carefully,’ said Fletcher as he walked away from Mrs Elliot and passed the state’s attorney a copy of the enlarged photo. A clerk handed one to each member of the jury. Fletcher then turned back to face Rebecca. ‘And do tell the court what you see.’
‘It’s a photograph of me sitting in the hallway in my robe.’
‘It is indeed, but what are your wearing on your left wrist and round your neck?’ Fletcher asked, before turning to face the jury, all of whom were now studying the photograph intently.
The blood drained from Rebecca’s face.
‘I do believe they’re your wristwatch and your pearl necklace,’ said Fletcher answering his own question. ‘Do you remember?’ He paused. ‘The ones you always locked away in your safe just before going to bed because there had been several burglaries in the area recently?’ Fletcher turned to face Chief Culver and Detective Petrowski, who were seated in the front row. ‘It is, as Detective Petrowski reminded us, the little mistakes that always reveal the amateur.’ Fletcher turned back, and looked directly at Rebecca, before adding, ‘You may have forgotten to take off your watch and necklace, Mrs Elliot, but I can tell you something you didn’t forget to take off, your dress.’ Fletcher placed his hands on the jury box rail before saying slowly and without expression. ‘Because you didn’t do that until after you’d killed your husband.’
Several people rose at once, and the judge carried on banging his gavel before it was quiet enough for the state’s attorney to say in a loud voice, ‘Objection. How can wearing a wristwatch prove that Mrs Elliot murdered her husband?’
‘I agree with you, Mr Ebden,’ said the judge and turning to Fletcher suggested, ‘That’s quite a quantum leap, counsellor.’
‘Then I will be happy to take the state’s attorney through it step by step, your honour.’ The judge nodded. ‘When Mr Cartwright arrived at the house, he overheard an argument going on between Mr and Mrs Elliot, and after he’d knocked on the door, it was Mr Elliot who answered it, while Mrs Elliot was nowhere to be seen. I’m willing to accept that she did run up to the top of the stairs so that she could overhear what was going on while not being observed, but the moment the first shot was fired, she came back down into the corridor and listened to the quarrel taking place between her husband and my client. Three or four minutes later, Mr Cartwright walked calmly out of the study and passed Mrs Elliot in the corridor, before opening the front door. He looked back at Mrs Elliot, which is why he was able to tell the police questioning him later that night that she was wearing a low-cut blue dress and a string of pearls. If the jury study the photograph of Mrs Elliot, if I’m not mistaken, she is wearing the same string of pearls as the ones she has on today.’ Rebecca touched her necklace as Fletcher continued. ‘But don’t let’s rely on my client’s word, but on your own statement, Mrs Elliot.’ He turned another page of the state’s evidence, before he began reading. ‘I ran into the study, saw my husband’s body slumped on the floor and then called the police.’
‘That’s right, I did ring Chief Culver at home, he’s already confirmed that,’ interjected Rebecca.
‘But why did you call the chief of police first?’
‘Because my husband had been murdered.’
‘But in your evidence, Mrs Elliot, given to Detective Petrowski only moments after your husband’s death, you stated that you saw Ralph slumped in the corner of his study, blood coming from his mouth, and immediately called the chief of police.’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I did,’ shouted Rebecca.
Fletcher paused before turning to face the jury. ‘If I saw my wife slumped in a corner with blood coming from her mouth, the first thing I would do is to check to see if she was still alive and, if she was, I wouldn’t call for the police, I’d call for an ambulance. And at no time did you call for an ambulance, Mrs Elliot. Why? Because you already knew that your husband was dead.’
Once again there was uproar in the body of the court, and the reporters who weren’t old-fashioned enough to take shorthand struggled to get down every word.
‘Mrs Elliot,’ continued Fletcher, once the judge had stopped banging his gavel, ‘allow me to repeat the words you said only a few moments ago when questioned by the state’s attorney.’ Fletcher picked up one of the yellow pads from his desk and began reading. ‘ “I suddenly felt cold and sick in the stomach, and I thought I was going to faint. I staggered back out into the corridor and collapsed on the floor.” ’ Fletcher threw the notepad down on his desk, stared at Mrs Elliot and said, ‘You still haven’t even bothered to check if your husband is alive, but you didn’t need to, did you, because you knew he was dead; after all, it was you who had killed him.’
‘Then why didn’t they find any traces of gunpowder residue on my robe?’ Rebecca shouted above the banging of the judge’s gavel.
‘Because when you shot your husband, you weren’t in your robe, Mrs Elliot, but still in the blue dress you’d been wearing that evening. It was only after you had killed Ralph that you ran upstairs to change into your nightgown and robe. But unfortunately Detective Petrowski switched on his car siren, broke the speed limit, and managed to be with you six minutes later, which is why you had to rush back downstairs, forgetting to take off your watch or pearls. And even more damning, not leaving yourself enough time to close the front door. If, as you have claimed, Mr Cartwright had killed your husband, and then run out of the door, the first thing you would have done would be to make sure that it was closed so he couldn’t get back in to harm you. But Detective Petrowski, conscientious man that he is, arrived a little too quickly for you, and even remarked how surprised he was to find the front door open. Amateurs often panic, and that’s when they make simple mistakes,’ he repeated almost in a whisper. ‘Because the truth is that once Mr Cartwright had walked past you in the hallway, you then ran into the study, picked up the gun and realized this was a perfect opportunity to be rid of a husband you’d despised for years. The shot Mr Cartwright heard as he was driving away from the house was indeed the bullet that killed your husband, but it wasn’t Mr Cartwright who pulled the trigger, it was you. What Mr Cartwright did do was give you the perfect alibi, and a solution to all your problems.’ He paused and, turning away from the jury, added, ‘If only you had remembered to remove your wristwatch and pearls before you came downstairs, closed the front door and then phoned for an ambulance, rather than the chief of police, you would have committed the perfect murder, and my client would be facing the death penalty.’