The Three-Body Problem Page 17

  I dearly hoped he would refuse, but of course, the question was a mere formality, and he had no real possibility of doing so. He acquiesced as graciously as possible, and Mr Bexheath said, ‘Then I would like to request Miss Pamela Simpson to take the stand!’

  A door opened, and the bailiff ushered a young lady into the courtroom, and guided her to the witness stand, where she stood, her head thrown back, an air of frank curiosity and amusement upon her face.

  Dora, dear, I really do not know how to describe such a person! If I dared, I would imagine that she is the exact type of what certain ladies of our acquaintance would have termed ‘a creature’. Bold, brazen, laughing, daring, hard, devil-may-care, every word and every movement betraying a conscious desire to produce a specific effect – she seemed as out of place in the solemn courtroom as a brilliant bird of paradise. She stood, half-smiling, in a position of insolent ease, in her bright clothes, and waited. The court clerk appeared with his Bible and swore her in. Her hand upon the Bible, she took the oath with clear, ringing tones, so that it did not seem that the suspicion of incorrectness naturally aroused by her appearance need necessarily apply to her veracity.

  Direct examination of Miss Pamela Simpson,

  by Mr Bexheath

  Mr Bexheath: Tell us your name, please.

  Miss Simpson: Pamela Simpson.

  Mr Bexheath: Your age?

  Miss Simpson: Twenty-two last January.

  Mr Bexheath: Where do you reside, Miss Simpson?

  Miss Simpson: In London, just behind King’s Cross.

  Mr Bexheath: Miss Simpson, were you acquainted with the late Mr Jeremy Crawford, Lecturer in Mathematics at the University of Cambridge?

  Miss Simpson: Yes, I was acquainted with him. He was a nice man. I’m very sorry he’s dead.

  Mr Bexheath: Can you tell us if you saw Mr Crawford on February 14th last?

  Miss Simpson: Yes, I did.

  Mr Bexheath: Are you aware that that was the day of the murder of the mathematician Mr Geoffrey Akers?

  Miss Simpson: Well, I wasn’t then, but I know it now.

  Commotion and murmuring in the court. The judge banged his gavel until silence was restored.

  Mr Bexheath: Can you tell us what part of the day of February the 14th you spent with Mr Crawford?

  Miss Simpson: The whole evening, from eight o’clock, and the whole night, until the next morning.

  Commotion and murmuring in the court. The judge banged his gavel and said ‘If silence is not kept I will clear the court!’

  Mr Bexheath: Where did you spend those hours with Mr Crawford, Miss Simpson?

  Miss Simpson: Well, in my rooms, except when we dined.

  Mr Bexheath: You are referring to your rooms in London, behind King’s Cross Station?

  Miss Simpson: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: And where did you dine?

  Miss Simpson: We dined at Jenny’s Corner, a small restaurant situated near to my rooms.

  Mr Bexheath: Jenny’s Corner is run by a Miss Jenny Pease?

  Miss Simpson: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: She is a friend of yours?

  Miss Simpson: Yes.

  Mr Bexheath: You are aware that Miss Pease is present today, and will be examined with a view to confirming, for the benefit of the jury, the veracity of your statements?

  Miss Simpson: What, sir? Excuse me?

  Mr Bexheath: You know that Miss Pease is here, and that she will be questioned as to your dinner of February 14th?

  Miss Simpson: Oh! Yes, I know that, of course. We came up here together.

  Mr Bexheath: Now, Miss Simpson, do you know how Mr Crawford came from Cambridge to London?

  Miss Simpson: Yes, I know that. He came down by the train, for I fetched him myself at the station at about seven-thirty, and we came home together.

  Mr Bexheath: And did you and Mr Crawford separate for any length of time during the evening of February 14th?

  Miss Simpson: No, sir, absolutely not. We were stuck together like two peas in a pod the whole livelong evening, and the night, too.

  Mr Bexheath: So there is no possibility whatsoever that Mr Crawford could have been assassinating a man, in Cambridge, on the evening of February the 14th.

  Miss Simpson: Absolutely not!

  Mr Bexheath: Remember now, Miss Simpson, that your testimony is of vital importance, and you are on oath. You are absolutely certain of what you are saying?

  Miss Simpson: Oh, yes. I realise that what I’m saying shows that Mr Crawford did not kill that Mr Akers, and that makes it seem like it must be the poor young man in the dock over there that did it. I feel very sorry for him and hope it wasn’t him, but I can’t help what I’m saying, as it is true.

  Mr Bexheath: Thank you very much, Miss Simpson.

  Mr Justice Penrose: Mr Haversham, would you like to cross-examine this witness?

  Mr Haversham: Most certainly, my Lord.

  Cross-examination of Miss Pamela Simpson,

  by Mr Haversham

  Mr Haversham: Miss Simpson, may I enquire what your profession is?

  Miss Simpson: (absolutely composed) I’m afraid I’ve got none, Mr Barrister.

  Mr Haversham: But you must have money to live on, don’t you? How do you pay for your rent, and your meals?

  Miss Simpson: Oh, I get money where I can, as gifts, often enough.

  Mr Haversham: And who gives you such kind gifts?

  Miss Simpson: Friends.

  Mr Haversham: And what service do you render these friends, that they are so kindly disposed towards you?

  Miss Simpson: Mr Barrister, if you’re trying to shame me, it won’t work. For I’m ready to say right out that I take good care of my gentlemen friends, and they takes good care of me.

  Mr Haversham: Oh! I see. So you have come to a satisfactory arrangement with your gentlemen friends?

  Miss Simpson: You’re right I have.

  Mr Haversham: And how many of these friends do you have?

  Miss Simpson: I’ve never counted them!

  Mr Haversham: So there are too many to estimate, say, on the fingers of one hand.

  Miss Simpson: Oh Lord, yes.

  Mr Haversham: Quite. Now, let us discuss your acquaintance with Mr Crawford.

  Miss Simpson: I’m ready to when you are.

  Mr Haversham: Can you tell us when and how you first met Mr Crawford?

  Miss Simpson: I met him in London, some years ago. It’s hard for me to remember exactly when – probably three or four years ago.

  Mr Haversham: And where did you meet him?

  Miss Simpson: In the train station.

  Mr Haversham: Would you like to tell us the circumstances of that meeting?

  Miss Simpson: Well – he come out of the train, with his bags, and I see he looks like a nice kind of man, so I goes up to him and says ‘Hello, sir, looking for a nice place to stay while you visit London?’ and he smiles at me and says ‘Well, that might be, my dear, it might be.’ So he did.

  Mr Haversham: So he did what?

  Miss Simpson: Stay at my place. It’s a nice place, isn’t it?

  Mr Haversham: And at that time, you already had a number of friends, as you call them?

  Miss Simpson: Not as many as now.

  Mr Haversham: Yes. And was that your regular method for making new friends?

  Miss Simpson: Well, I’ve never been shy about speaking to people I see that look nice.

  Mr Haversham: And how often did you see Mr Jeremy Crawford?

  Miss Simpson: Oh, he’d come down to London and see me fairly regularly.

  Mr Haversham: How regularly?

  Miss Simpson: Maybe every month or so. Pretty much every month. It’s hard for a man to be alone all the time, they risks turning into dry sticks. You ought to know that, by the look of you.

  Laughter in the court. The judge banged his gavel.

  Mr Haversham: Miss Simpson, did Mr Crawford have a regular date or day of the week on which he would come down to see you?


  Miss Simpson: No.

  Mr Haversham: So how can you be so sure that the day he came to see you last February was exactly the 14th?

  Miss Simpson: Oh, that’s easy. For one thing, it was Saint Valentine’s day. That’s a romantic day, you know. We joked about it. But anyway, I have his letter.

  Mr Haversham: What letter is that?

  Miss Simpson: Well, when he thought he had a free day to come down, you know, he’d simply write me, and I’d write back, if it was all right.

  Mr Haversham: You mean, if you were not busy with another friend on that day?

  Miss Simpson: You’ve hit it on the nose, Mr Barrister. So he wrote me about the 14th of February, and I wrote back it was all right, and here is the letter.

  Mr Haversham: This is the letter he wrote to you?

  Miss Simpson: Yes.

  Mr Haversham: But we do not appear to be in possession of your affirmative answer, so this does not really constitute a proof that he came on that day.

  Miss Simpson: No, I doubt he kept my notes, but there’s this letter, and there’s what I remember and have sworn to, and Jenny remembers too.

  Mr Haversham: So our establishment of the date depends essentially on your memory and your ability to distinguish between your different friends, and the different days upon which you received them.

  Miss Simpson: Oh, no, Mr Barrister. Don’t try to make out that I’m all confused. I remember rightly about the 14th, and this letter says so too, and Jenny will as well.

  Mr Haversham: Very well. You may stand down.

  Then Mr Bexheath called Miss Jenny Pease to the stand. She was a buxom lady, quite a bit older than Miss Simpson, and not so garish, but equally sure of herself. She was sworn in by the Clerk, and her direct examination began.

  Direct examination of Miss Jenny Pease, by Mr Bexheath

  Mr Bexheath: What is your name?

  Miss Pease: Jenny Pease, sir.

  Mr Bexheath: Please state your profession.

  Miss Pease: I have a little restaurant nearby King’s Cross, sir, down in London.

  Mr Bexheath: You are acquainted with Miss Pamela Simpson?

  Miss Pease: Oh yes.

  Mr Bexheath: For how long have you known her?

  Miss Pease: Oh, she comes to the restaurant regular, sir, been coming for the last couple of years, or thereabouts.

  Mr Bexheath: Does she come alone?

  Miss Pease: Sometimes alone, sometimes with friends.

  Mr Bexheath: Do you clearly remember whether Miss Simpson came to eat in your restaurant on the 14th of February last?

  Miss Pease: Yes, sir.

  Mr Bexheath: She did come?

  Miss Pease: Yes, sir.

  Mr Bexheath: Did she come alone?

  Miss Pease: No, sir. She came accompanied by a gentleman friend, Mr Crawford.

  Mr Bexheath: You were previously acquainted with Mr Crawford?

  Miss Pease: Oh, yes, sir. He and Pam had come to the restaurant any number of times already, before then.

  Mr Bexheath: Now, Miss Pease, can you tell me how you can be absolutely certain that the day Miss Simpson and Mr Crawford had dinner in your restaurant was precisely the 14th of February, and no other day?

  Miss Pease: Oh, I remember well enough. We joked back and forth about its being Saint Valentine’s day, like, and so Mr Crawford must be Pam’s real sweetheart. Also, it was a Tuesday, that’s my mutton chop day, and they had it.

  Mr Bexheath: Your mutton chop day?

  Miss Pease: The dish of the day, sir. There’s one for every day of the week: Monday liver, Tuesday mutton chop, Wednesday T-bone, Thursday fowl, Friday fish …

  Mr Bexheath: Yes, yes, Miss Pease, we understand. And the order of the dish of the day never varies? It is the same from week to week?

  Miss Pease: Has been for years. The regulars likes things regular, if you know what I mean, sir. They likes to know what to expect.

  Mr Bexheath: Of course. Well, this concludes my examination.

  Cross-examination of Miss Jenny Pease, by Mr Haversham

  Mr Haversham: Now, Miss Pease, I have heard your testimony, and there is really only one thing in it I would like to ask you about.

  Miss Pease: What’s that, then?

  Mr Haversham: Your memory. You claim that you remember the exact day upon which Miss Simpson and Mr Crawford came to your restaurant, three and a half months ago.

  Miss Pease: Well, I do, then.

  Mr Haversham: May I conclude that you remember every day that every single one of your clients came to the restaurant?

  Miss Pease: No. But I’m specially friends with Pam.

  Mr Haversham: Oh, I see. So then, you are simply able to remember each and every day upon which Miss Simpson came to dine in the restaurant, and whom she was with each time. Could you please give me a complete list of those dates, going back over the last four months?

  Miss Pease: No, you know right well I can’t do anything of the kind!

  Mr Haversham: Oh, really? No, I am quite surprised. So, after all, your memory of Miss Simpson’s various visits is not so perfectly clear.

  Miss Pease: Not every one of her visits, but the one on the February 14th is pretty clear.

  Mr Haversham: Pretty clear? But not completely clear?

  Miss Pease: Well, it’s completely clear that she was there, and that she was with Mr Crawford, that I already was acquainted with, and that they ate mutton chops and we chaffed about Saint Valentine’s day. Those things are clear.

  Mr Haversham: Miss Pease, may I ask you who first questioned you about this important date of February 14th, and then brought you to this court?

  Miss Pease: It was police, sir. What with Pam seeing that her friend Mr Crawford had died, she was talking to her friends and all about how she knew him, and it got to police, and they came and questioned her about these two dates: February 14th and April 30th. Pam didn’t know anything about April 30th; she hadn’t seen anything of Mr Crawford on that day. But she remembered about being with him on February 14th, and remembered about coming to the restaurant that day. So then they came to ask me about it.

  Mr Haversham: And how did they ask you about it? Was the date of February 14th suggested to you? Or were you asked to recall it yourself?

  Miss Pease: They reminded me back in February, and said had I seen Miss Simpson and her Mr Crawford, and I really couldn’t bring it to mind at first, as I sees her so often. Then they had us together, and she reminded me about Saint Valentine’s day, and I remembered.

  Mr Haversham: I see. That is very helpful. They reminded you about what to remember, and then you remembered it.

  Miss Pease: I see what you’re saying, sir, but it isn’t that way. I really remembered it, they just jogged my memory, like.

  Mr Haversham: Very well, they jogged your memory, and then you remembered the date of February 14th which previously you had not remembered. You may stand down.

  Mr Haversham certainly tried everything he could to shed doubt upon the testimony of these two ladies, but I am afraid he did not succeed in convincing the jury. I must admit frankly that he did not even succeed in convincing me; the ladies’ statements really did ring simple and true. They may have been bribed or threatened or simply cajoled into inventing the story, but the police themselves would have no reason to do it … it would have to be the true murderer himself. But why should he care whether Arthur or Mr Crawford was convicted for his own crimes – OH – unless … oh! What if Arthur himself was the intended next victim, and this is the murderer’s cunning way of disposing of him? What a horrible idea! But … it means that if Miss Simpson and Miss Pease are not telling the truth, then they must know who the murderer is. I must try to meet them. Perhaps, after lessons, I could catch a train to London and eat at Jenny’s Corner.

  Late at night

  I have done it. The two ladies were sent back to London by train, as Miss Pease was very anxious about her restaurant being locked up unexpectedly even for a single evening. I myself h
astened home to teach my little class – how difficult it is becoming, now that my mind is so dreadfully elsewhere! The moment the last little pupil had disappeared around the corner, I put on my hat, snatched up a bag, put all my available money into it, and rushed to the railway station, where I purchased a ticket to London and found myself quite soon swept off by a rattling locomotive. It was not so difficult, really; I just did the same as the day we all went to the theatre. When the train pulled into London, I got out, and addressing the driver of a hansom waiting in the road, I asked him if he knew of a restaurant called Jenny’s Corner in the neighbourhood. He did not, but by dint of wandering about the streets and asking continually, I eventually discovered it. It was dinner time, and the restaurant was already quite full. It is a small, dingy hole, rather dirty, with little tables set close together, but it was warmly lit nonetheless, and the buxom Miss Pease with her apron, emerging frequently from her kitchen to banter with the customers, and aided by a scrap of a girl taken in off the streets, by the look of her, lent a welcoming atmosphere to the whole.

  I was quite out of place in the restaurant, my dear; I was most unlike anybody else there, and felt that they looked at me with some hostility. However, I entered, and the scrap of a girl showed me to a tiny corner table. There was no menu; she simply stopped in front of me and breathlessly recited a list of dishes, ending with ‘dish-of-the-day’s-fish-mum, if you please, a nice baked haddock it is’. I said I would have baked haddock please, and could I speak with Miss Pease.

  The girl went into the kitchen through the swinging baize door, and came out carrying plates and mugs. She was followed by Miss Pease, who looked suspiciously over at me. She stared for a moment, and then her face broke into a smile.

  ‘Oh, I recognise you,’ she said. ‘You was at the trial this morning, up on the witness bench, along of us.’

  ‘Yes, I was,’ I told her. ‘I have come to see you because of the trial.’ My voice became unsteady, and Miss Pease waxed motherly.