Free Gallowglass by Gordon Ferris

the prosecution – leading up to the kidnap, the imprisonment and the murder of Sir Fraser Gibson. Alexandre Dumas might have made better use of such a plot, but it sounded pretty damning.
    The prosecutor was drawing to a close.
    ‘We therefore petition the court’s approval to take the next steps in investigating this crime. This will involve gathering all evidence, interviewing all witnesses and arranging for written reports on the accused’s background and character…’
    The prosecutor stood back and left the field to Dalziel. Normally at this point – as I recalled it – the accused’s solicitor makes no plea or declaration about innocence. But thistime Dalziel – prompted telepathically by Samantha Campbell, silent advocate – was all set to get the case thrown out.
    ‘If it please, my lord, we have just listened to the charges by the prosecution. We submit that these charges are without foundation.’
    The Sheriff leaned over. ‘I’m sure you think that, Mr Dalziel, but the charges have been made and must be examined. Such examination cannot happen in this court, can it?’ He smiled indulgently.
    ‘My lord, we well understand that, but this case is exceptional. The accused is the chief crime reporter for the Glasgow Gazette . His involvement in the tragic case was purely tangential in the course of his investigative duties. There appears to be a fundamental error in this petition. The charges claim that Mr Brodie was the chief instigator of this dreadful crime when in fact he was acting on behalf of Lady Gibson in trying to resolve the kidnap without loss of life. A simple question to the tragic widow of Sir Fraser Gibson would elicit this fact and we are sure his lordship would immediately set aside the whole case against my client. This is something we have been actively pursuing with the Procurator Fiscal.’
    The prosecutor got to his feet. ‘My lord—’
    ‘No need, just give me a moment,’ said the Sheriff, peering at the sheaf of papers in front of him. He picked one up and brandished it at the prosecutor. ‘Is this properly signed and witnessed?’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    He then waved it at Dalziel. ‘Have you seen this, Mr Dalziel?’
    Dalziel stepped forward, took the single page and read it slowly once and then again. His jaw muscles tightened under his jowls. He swallowed.
    The Sheriff asked, ‘This is the sworn testimony of whom, Mr Dalziel?’
    ‘It purports to be from Lady Gibson, my lord.’
    ‘And what does the good lady say?’
    Dalziel coughed and glanced round at me before replying.
    ‘Lady Gibson claims that she has never met the accused and did not appoint him to help her. She states that she knows only of Mr Brodie through his work as a reporter, but has never communicated with him either by telephone or in writing.’
    I heard Sam make a stifled no . My world dropped away. The bitch!

THIRTEEN
    D alziel returned the letter to the Sheriff and turned to go back to his bench. He took off his glasses and his big unfocused eyes turned my way. He raised an eyebrow as if to say: We’re stuffed. But he turned to face the Sheriff and had another crack at it.
    ‘Clearly there is some confusion here, my lord, and we are sure it will be easily cleared up. I imagine Lady Gibson is distraught at this time and naturally will not be quite herself. But while accepting that the petition might indeed contain sufficient weight for you to send my client to trial, we would in the meantime request bail for the defendant. We would remind the court that Mr Brodie is a former detective sergeant in the Glasgow police and served with distinction until called to the colours. During the war he rose through the ranks to became a decorated officer who fought valiantly for his country. Furthermore, in the first quarter of this year, Mr Brodie worked closely with the police in the successful disruption and capture of escaped war criminals hiding in this very city.’
    The Sheriff was nodding, apparently