Nothing Ventured(86)

“How many years were you a serving police officer, Mr. Stern?”

“Twenty-eight. Best years of my life.”

“Is that right?” said Sir Julian. “So why did you take early retirement, when you would have been entitled to a full pension after just another two years’ service?”

“Wanted to go out at the top, didn’t I?”

“By ending your career with a murder conviction? But before I come to that, I have to ask you, during the best years of your life, Mr. Stern, how many times were you suspended?”

“Is this line of questioning relevant, Sir Julian?” asked Lord Justice Arnott.

“It goes to the heart of the case, m’lud,” said Sir Julian as he picked up the first of the two personnel files that William had come across. He ostentatiously opened the first to a page marked with a large red tab. “How many times?” he repeated.

“Three,” said Stern, not looking quite as confident.

“And was the first offense for being drunk on duty?”

“I might have occasionally downed a couple of pints on a Friday night,” admitted Stern.

“While you were on duty?”

“Only after we’d banged up a villain.”

“And exactly how many times were you disciplined for being drunk on duty, having banged up a villain on a Friday night?”

“I think it was twice.”

“Think again, Mr. Stern,” said Sir Julian, giving the witness time to reconsider.

“It might have been three times.”

“I think you’ll find it was four, Mr. Stern. And how many other times were you drunk on duty, but not disciplined?”

“Never,” said Stern, his voice rising. “Just those four times in twenty-eight years.”

“And always on a Friday night?”

Stern looked puzzled.

“And the second time you were disciplined, could you tell the court what you were charged with on that occasion?”

“I don’t recall. It was such a long time ago.”

“Then let me remind you, Mr. Stern. You were caught having sexual intercourse with a prostitute while she was in a cell. Now do you remember?”

“I do. But she was—”

“She was what, Mr. Stern?”

Stern didn’t respond.

“Then perhaps I should remind you what you said on that occasion.” Sir Julian looked down at the file, while Stern remained silent. “‘She was a right little scrubber, who got no more and certainly no less than she deserved.’”

A sudden burst of chattering followed, and Lord Justice Arnott waited for it to subside before asking, “Is that not hear-say, Sir Julian?”

“No, m’lud, I was simply reading Mr. Stern’s testimony from the tribunal report.”

The judge nodded gravely.

“Mr. Stern, you told the court just a few moments ago that you were only disciplined on three occasions, but that was the fifth occasion, and I haven’t finished yet.”

All three judges had their eyes fixed on the witness.

“I meant for three different offenses.”

“So you don’t always say what you mean.”

Stern looked as if he was about to respond, but just clenched his fists.

“Then let’s move on to the sixth incident, after which a full inquiry took place, and you were suspended for six months.”

“On full pay, after which the charges were dropped.”

“That’s not entirely accurate, is it, Mr. Stern? You actually took early retirement only weeks before the inquiry was completed. And on that occasion, you were charged with stealing four thousand pounds from a prisoner while he was in custody.”

“He was a drug dealer.”

“Was he indeed?” said Sir Julian. “So you consider it’s acceptable for a police officer to steal from a drug dealer?”

“I didn’t say that. You’re putting words in my mouth. In any case, he withdrew the allegation the following day.”

“I’m sure he did. However—”

“I think we should move on, Sir Julian,” interrupted Lord Justice Arnott, “to the role this officer played at Mr. Rainsford’s trial.”

“As you wish, m’lud,” said Sir Julian, nodding to Grace, who handed him the second file. “At Mr. Rainsford’s trial, Mr. Stern, would I be right in thinking you were the senior officer investigating the crime?”

“Yes, I was,” said Stern, looking as if he thought he was back on safer ground.

“Did you, in the course of your investigations, ever consider trying to find the short, heavily built man my client repeatedly told you ran past him in the corridor of his office, on the night of the murder?”

“The mystery man, you mean?” said Stern. “Why bother, when he was nothing more than a figment of Rainsford’s imagination.”

“And you also made no attempt to trace the anonymous caller who reported Mr. Kirkland’s death to the police.”

“Isn’t that what anonymous means?” said Stern, who laughed, but no one else did.

“Didn’t it occur to you, Mr. Stern, that the anonymous call could only have come from someone who had actually witnessed the crime?”