The Queen v. Karl Mullen (31 page)

“Well – I knew that Katanga was a witness in that shoplifting case—”

“Which has, in fact, been dismissed. You know that?”

“Yes.”

“Then what has the bookshop case to do with it?”

“Nothing, really, I suppose.”

“Then might I suggest that your suspicions were aroused
because the accused was a South African
?”

“Certainly not. I have no prejudice against South Africans.”

“I expect you will tell us that many of your best friends are South Africans,” said de Morgan and resumed his seat before Dr. Thorn could say anything.

The judge looked at the clock and at the usher, who intoned, “Be upstanding.”

On his way home from Court that evening Dr. Moy-Williams called at the Homestead. He found Dorothy on the sofa with an untouched cup of tea beside her.

He said, “Judging from the way things are going, you will be called by the Crown to give evidence some time tomorrow. Probably not until the afternoon. I understand they are going to deal with the doctors first. Now – the one essential thing is for you to get a proper night’s rest. I have brought you some pills. They are only obtainable on prescription and I should warn you that they are more powerful than the ones you have been using. You must stick exactly to the prescribed dose.”

Dorothy smiled faintly. She said, “Aren’t you forgetting, doctor, that I was once a nurse? I understand what pills will and won’t do.”

The papers next morning were muted. They were marking time. The
Sentinel
said that the interest of the defence seemed to be concentrated, for some inexplicable reason, on the garden.
The Times
, which had christened the proceedings ‘The Battle of the Attorney Generals’, said, ‘We have had suggestions of prejudice against South Africa, but we must wait for some real indication of the line the defence proposes to take.’

They were not kept waiting long.

Inspector Blanchard of the Putney subdivision of the Metropolitan Police opened the proceedings on the following morning. He explained the very detailed search which he had made of the Homestead, its dustbins and its garden, and a later search which his men had made of the surrounding land. Searches which had not discovered anything significant.

Martin Bull said, “I imagine that your earlier search included the garden shed of which we have been told.”

“Certainly. I searched it most carefully.”

“What, exactly, were you looking for on that occasion?”

The Inspector was ready for this. He said, “One of my sergeants, who had come to us from Hammersmith, happened to remember the previous accident—”

“The one Dr. Moy-Williams has told us about when disinfectant was mistaken for whisky.”

“Yes.”

“Then you were looking for disinfectant?”

“I was looking for any dangerous substance that might have been left lying about.”

“But not, specifically, for weedkiller.”

“Certainly not.”

“Tell me, Inspector, when did you first hear that weedkiller was suspected?”

Blanchard thought about this. He said, “I knew of it, or certainly guessed it, when I was ordered to institute a search for a certain type of tin or container.”

“But that knowledge was personal to you. And, no doubt, confidential.”

“Certainly. In fact I would say that there had been no public statement of any sort about weedkiller until the proceedings at the Mansion House.”

“Thank you, Inspector. That was my impression, too.”

Dr. Summerson, who followed, did not occupy the Court for long. He explained that he had carried out an autopsy, which confirmed Dr. Thorn’s observations, that he had made sections of the oesophagus, larynx, trachea and stomach and had decided that these, with the glass jar and bougie, should be despatched at once to the Home Office Laboratory. In fact, he took them up himself that evening by car.

De Morgan said, “I should be rash, indeed, doctor, to ask any questions of a man of your national – indeed international – reputation. One small point only. When you took the jar and bougie to Aldermaston you were, I imagine, very careful how you packed them?”

“As careful as I could be.”

“I had in mind that you would not have wished to obliterate any fingerprints which might be on them.”

“I considered it safer to make an immediate test for prints in my own laboratory.”

“Of course. Much better. And you discovered—?”

“There were several examples of the same print on the handle of the bougie. And one, very clear example of that print on the jar.”

The Attorney General said, “I can, if you wish, my Lord, now call the fingerprint expert from Scotland Yard to confirm that both sets of prints came from the deceased.”

“The defence concedes the point,” said de Morgan.

“To be quite accurate,” said Summerson, “the prints on the handle of the bougie could hardly be described as a set. There were a number of superimposed impressions. On the jar, on the other hand, there was this one set. The thumb in front and the fingers behind.”

“Thank you,” said the judge. “It is always well to be precise about fingerprints.”

“Then I will now call Dr. Gadney.”

“My name,” said the black-haired man with the build of a rugby forward, “is William Gadney. I am, and have been for the last eight years, in charge of the Government Laboratory at Aldermaston. On the evening of Friday, November 2nd, certain articles were handed to me by Dr. Summerson . . .”

He explained, using a minimum of technical language, the tests he had made. He said, “I should add that it was fortunate indeed that the authorities moved so speedily, since the liquid which I was testing had already started to become colloidal.”

Everyone tried to look as though they grasped the significance of this. Dr. Gadney said, “I mean, of course, that as it absorbed the globules of the olive oil in which it had been mixed, it became increasingly difficult to isolate the smaller components. There was, however, no doubt that one of them was paraquat.”

The judge said, “We have heard a great deal about paraquat. Could you tell us what it is?”

“Certainly, my Lord. It is dimethyl sulphate of bipyridylium.”

“Thank you,” said the judge faintly.

“It is highly poisonous and used nowadays in many agricultural weedkillers.”

“A dangerous substance to be on public sale.”

“It is true, my Lord, that it is classified as dangerous in the Poisons Rules and in the Control of Pesticides Regulations. But under the Agricultural Chemicals Approval Scheme—”

“Slowly, please. I am trying to get this down. Yes. Under that scheme?”

“It could be sold across the counter provided that the seller knew that the purchaser was a farmer or that he needed it for his garden.”

“You set my mind at rest. I apologise, Mr. Attorney. I interrupted you.”

“Did you, Dr. Gadney, finally succeed in isolating any other substances?”

“After certain elimination tests we located chlordane. In rather smaller quantities than the paraquat. It is a liquid insecticide often found in garden weedkillers.”

“And taking these facts into account, what was your conclusion?”

“I concluded that the most probable additive was Paradol.”

“Which contains five per cent paraquat and three per cent chlordane?”

“Yes.”

De Morgan said, “Dr. Gadney, would you first be good enough to explain exactly what you mean by elimination tests?”

“Certainly. When a liquid is subjected to chromatography the instrument produces its result in the form of a graph, running roughly level, but with distinct peaks. It is these peaks which indicate the presence of different substances. We identify them by the size of the peak and its relative position in the graph. The larger ones can be identified easily. The presence of five per cent of paraquat was unquestionable. In the case of smaller peaks what we had to do – speaking roughly – was to surmise what they
might
be and then to rule out possible competitors by a series of elimination tests.”

“Thank you, doctor. Might I put what you have told us even more crudely? You had to guess what these other components might be and then prove most of your guesses wrong.”

“If you wish to put it that way.”

“Then suppose that there was an even smaller peak – as you call it – or a number of peaks, am I right in thinking that it would have become increasingly difficult to identify them?”

“By now, almost impossible.”

“So if I suggested that one of them might be parathion – a phosphorous insecticide, my Lord, often added to garden sprays – you would not regard this as impossible?”

“No. Not impossible.”

“So that the added liquid might – just as an example – have been Killblane which contains five per cent paraquat, three per cent chlordane and two per cent parathion?”

“Killblane could not be ruled out. Others, too.”

“But equally,” said the Attorney General in re-examination, “there was nothing in your tests to show that it was not Paradol?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then I think,” said the judge, “that this would be a suitable moment to adjourn for lunch. And might I urge the jury to be very careful in crossing the streets.”

First after lunch came Lionel Luck. He took the oath perkily, introduced himself and identified a tin of Paradol.

“Exhibit P.1,” said Wyvil. “Not the one that was sold, but an identical one from Mr. Luck’s shop.”

Mr. Luck said that he had recognised Mullen, from numerous photographs in the press, and had thought it his duty to report immediately to the police his purchase of a tin of Paradol garden weedkiller.

Martin Bull, rising slowly, said, “I understand that you might well recognise the accused from pictures you had seen. These would mostly, I think, have been in connection with an alleged charge of shop-lifting, which has now been dropped.”

“That sort of thing.”

“My first question is why you should have sold a tin of Paradol to the accused at all. Did you know him as a gardener?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Then under the Poisons Rules you should not have sold it to him.”

“I’m afraid we shopkeepers don’t take those rules very seriously.”

“Then I advise you to change your habits,” said the judge sharply.

“Yes, sir. I mean, my Lord.”

“My next point, Mr. Luck, is this. Why should the purchase have excited you? If the accused had purchased a tin of washing-powder, would you have hurried round to the police station?”

“Of course not. But it wasn’t washing-powder, was it? It was weedkiller.”

“And what was so suspicious about that?”

“Well, I’d heard that he might be accused of poisoning Mr. Katanga—”

“What!” Bull barked this out so sharply that everyone jumped. He said, “This purchase in your shop was made on Wednesday, October 31st.”

“Well—”

“Inspector Blanchard also told us, this morning, that so far as he knew there had been
no
public statement about this matter until the hearing at the Mansion House.”

“Well,” said Luck, who had got his breath back, “someone must have come into the shop and told me.”

“His name, please.”

“I can’t exactly remember. And if I did happen to remember, I wouldn’t want to involve anyone else.”

“Mr. Luck,” said the judge, “please understand this. There is no question of
you
involving anyone. If this person has evidence to give, he can be brought here, subpoenaed to give that evidence.”

“I am sorry, my Lord. But I can’t remember who it was who told me. Not exactly. I have so many customers. And I’ve got no help. I’m at my wits’ end sometimes—”

“I see,” said the judge. There was silence while he made a lengthy note. “Yes, Mr. Bull.”

“I suggested, Mr. Luck, that you
hurried
round to the police station. You did not contradict me. Of course, as an old enthusiast for anti-apartheid activity, you had every reason to get Mullen into trouble, had you not?”

“Who says I’m keen on – what did you call it – anti-apartheid activity? I don’t take any interest in things like that. None at all.”

“Then why did you rush out of your shop, leaving it unattended, and join the gang who were mobbing Mullen?”

“I didn’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about—I can’t remember—”

“Of course you remember. It happened within fifty yards of your shop.”

“Oh, that time. Yes. Now you mention it, I do recall the incident.”

“I didn’t ask whether you recalled it. I asked why you joined in.”

As Bull spoke he seemed to be examining a number of photographs. Luck watched him nervously for a moment. Then said, “I might have come down to the end of Pipe Street to see what was going on.”

“Further than that, surely. Didn’t you cross Cheapside and push into the crowd in Axe Lane?”

“I—well—no. I don’t think I did anything like that.”

“I have here, my Lord, certain photographs: Exhibits M.l-4. We shall be calling the photographer in due course. But in view of the answer given by this witness I think you should see them now. Two of them were taken, as you will see, on the occasion of the riot. Two were taken at a later date, from a point opposite Mr. Luck’s shop.”

The judge studied the photographs, looked at the witness and then back at the photographs again. He said, “I take it you are aware, Mr. Luck, that telling a lie, when you are on oath, constitutes the crime of perjury and can be visited by severe penalties. Let me, therefore, put to you once again the question you have already been asked. Did you thrust yourself into the crowd that was harassing the accused?”

“I may have done, my Lord. I am so confused these days with worries about my business that my memory lets me down.”

The judge looked at Bull, who said, “We must, I suppose, accept that very qualified explanation.”

The judge made a further note in a silence that had become embarrassing.

“No further questions,” said the Attorney General. He seemed as keen to get Mr. Luck out of the box as Mr. Luck was to leave it. He said, “My witnesses have been dealing, so far, with the questions of opportunity and means. We now have to consider motive. As my Lord will instruct you, it is not strictly necessary, in a charge of murder, to prove motive. But where motive clearly exists, it is our duty to bring it to your attention.”