Convicted Innocent(38)

“He said he was sprung from prison and brought here against his will,” David murmured.

His friend looked at him sharply, eyebrows shooting upward.

“You understand him?”

The priest nodded.

“He understands me, my questions?”

Innocent, who had sat up cautiously, and David both nodded at the same time.

Lewis frowned, coughed, and then said, “Then I want to know everything about why you’re here, Mr. Harker, why we’re here, and what’s to be done with us. And don’t test me. I shan’t restrain you – what would be the point in here? – but if you threaten me or my friend in any way I will incapacitate you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the priest said quickly.

“I mean it nonetheless,” the sergeant returned, the steel in his voice directed as much toward David as Innocent.

The young man nodded once but hesitated. Cocking his head to one side, the Innocent studied the policeman for a moment and then thrust a hand into a pocket in his trousers. He freed his handkerchief and offered it to the sergeant.

“F-f-f-f-or ‘at.”

Lew raised an eyebrow; Innocent pointed; David interceded.

“You tore a stitch or two throwing the boy about,” the priest explained as he sat down stiffly next to the pair. “He’s trying to help.”

The stoniness of the policeman’s expression melted a touch, and he accepted the handkerchief with a nod. Mopping up the red trickle on his side undammed by his exertions, Lewis gestured for Innocent to speak.

For the next hour or more, David translated. Though Innocent at first only repeated the brief tale of how he’d been taken from prison and locked up there, Sergeant Todd soon began asking questions.

“On your behalf, the family lawyers pled innocence to the murder charge, yet you signed a confession to the opposite. Why?”

(I wouldn’t have signed it if I’d known what ‘murder’ meant.)

“What did you do when you finally understood the charge?”

(Frank had explained the situation to me – he understands me like Father David does – but not until I was already in jail. Frank helped me write a letter to you then, a sort of revised confession.)

“He didn’t kill anyone,” David reiterated. He was sure of it. “Ever.”

Lewis glanced at the priest curiously, and then spent a good deal of time questioning Innocent about the most recent murder, as well as several others connected to the case. Though the young man’s memory of details was poor and understanding of things simplistic, he said something every now and again that made the sergeant’s eyes flash. Someone who didn’t know the policeman as well as David mightn’t have noticed the flares of interest, but since the bobby didn’t explain what peaked it so, the priest continued his interpretations without further comment.

“Why did you send me the letter?” the policeman asked after he’d finished going over the case’s details to his satisfaction. “You could’ve posted it to the police station, or to Inspector Tipple who has charge of the investigation, or any number of people.”

(I remembered your name and face best, and Frank had recommended it since you have a reputation for fairness and seem more inclined to listen than Inspector Tipple.)

Hearing this, Lewis’s ears tinted a faint red, but he went on with his queries.

“None of us policemen could understand you. When that became clear, why did no one come forward to speak for you?”

(Frank said he tried, but no one let him. A few others could understand and speak for me, but didn’t. Then the lawyers told me to say nothing more.)