Free A Prisoner of Birth by Jeffrey Archer Page A

proudly.
    "How long do those visits last?"
    "About two hours."
    Pearson looked up at the ceiling. "So you've spent roughly," he calculated, "fifty hours together during the past six months."
    "I've never thought of it that way," said Beth.
    "But now you have, wouldn't you agree that would it be quite long enough for the two of you to go over your story again and again, making sure that it was word-perfect by the time you appeared in court."
    "No, that's not true."
    "Miss Wilson, when you visited Mr. Cartwright in prison"—he paused—"for fifty hours, did you ever discuss this case?"
    Beth hesitated. "I suppose we must have."
    "Of course you did," said Pearson. "Because if you didn't, perhaps you can explain how you recall every detail of what happened that night, and every sentence delivered by anyone involved, while you can't remember what you had for breakfast this morning."
    "Of course I remember what happened on the night my brother was murdered, Mr. Pearson. How could I ever forget? In any case, Craig and his friends would have had even more time to prepare their stories because they had no visiting hours or any restrictions on when or where they could meet."
    "Bravo," said Alex, loud enough for Pearson to hear.
    "Let us return to the alley and test your memory one more time, Miss Wilson," said Pearson, quickly changing the subject. "Mr. Craig and Mr. Payne, having arrived in the alley in under a minute, began walking towards your brother, and without any provocation started a fight."
    "Yes, they did," said Beth.
    "With two men they'd never seen before that night."
    "Yes."
    "And when things began to go badly, Mr. Craig pulls a knife out of thin air and stabs your brother in the chest."
    "It wasn't out of thin air. He must have picked it up from the bar."
    "So it wasn't Danny who picked up the knife from the bar?"
    "No, I would have seen it, if it had been Danny."
    "But you didn't see Mr. Craig pick up the knife from the bar?"
    "No, I didn't."
    "But you did see him, one minute later, standing at the other end of the alley."
    "Yes, I did."
    "Did he have a knife in his hand at that time?" Pearson leaned back and waited for Beth to reply.
    "I don't remember."
    "Then perhaps you can remember who had the knife in his hand when you ran back to join your brother."
    "Yes, it was Danny, but he explained that he had to get hold of it when Craig was stabbing my brother."
    "But you didn't witness that either."
    "No, I didn't."
    "And your fiancé was covered in blood?"
    "Of course he was," said Beth. "Danny was holding my brother in his arms."
    "So if it was Mr. Craig who stabbed your brother, he must also have been covered in blood."
    "How could I know? He'd disappeared by then."
    "Into thin air?" said Pearson. "So how do you explain that when the police arrived a few minutes later, Mr. Craig was sitting at the bar, waiting for the detective, and there was not a sign of blood anywhere." This time Beth didn't have a reply. "And may I remind you," continued Pearson, "who it was that called for the police in the first place? Not you, Miss Wilson, but Mr. Craig. A strange thing to do moments after you've stabbed someone, and your clothes are covered in blood." He paused to allow the image to settle in the jury's mind, and waited for some time before he asked his next question.
    "Miss Wilson, was this the first time your fiancé had been involved in a knife fight and you had come to his rescue?"
    "What are you getting at?" said Beth.
    Redmayne stared at Beth, wondering if there was something she hadn't told him.
    "Perhaps the time has come to test your remarkable memory once again," said Pearson.
    The judge, the jury and Redmayne were now all staring at Pearson, who didn't seem to be in any hurry to reveal his trump card.
    "Miss Wilson, do you by any chance recall what took place in the playground of the Clement Attlee Comprehensive School on February twelfth 1986?"
    "But that's nearly fifteen years ago," protested Beth.
    "Indeed it is,