A Certain Justice Read Free Page A

not.”
    “How often did you see him leaving by the front door?”
    “I can’t remember. Once when he had a taxi call for him. He left by the front door then.”
    “As one would expect. But did you often see him use the front door? You see, what I’m trying to find out here, because I think it will help the jury, is whether Garry normally used the front door or the back door when he left the house.”
    “I think they mostly used the back door, both of them.”
    “I see. They mostly used the back door.” Then, still quietly, still in the same interested, sympathetic voice: “The spectacles you are wearing today, Mrs. Scully, are they new?”
    The woman put up her hands to the frames as if uncertain that she was still wearing them. “Quite new. I got them on my birthday.”
    “Which was?”
    “February 16th. That’s how I remember.”
    “And you are quite sure about the date?”
    “Oh yes.” She turned to the judge as if anxious to explain. “I was going to have tea with my sister and I went into the shop to collect them on the way. I wanted to know what she thought about the new frames.”
    “And you are quite sure of the date, February 16th — five weeks after the murder of Mrs. O’Keefe?”
    “Yes, quite sure.”
    “Did your sister think that the new glasses suited you?”
    “She thought they were a bit fancy, but I wanted a change. You get tired of the same old frames. I thought I’d try something different.”
    And now the dangerous question, but Venetia knew what the answer would be. Women who are struggling on a low income don’t pay for an eye test unnecessarily or see their spectacles as a fashion accessory.
    She asked: “Is that why you changed the spectacles, Mrs. Scully? Because you wanted to try different frames?”
    “No, it wasn’t. I couldn’t see properly with the old spectacles. That’s why I went to the oculist.”
    “What couldn’t you see specifically?”
    “Well, the television really. It was getting so that I couldn’t see the faces.”
    “Where do you watch the television, Mrs. Scully?”
    “In the front sitting-room.”
    “Which is the same size as the one next door?”
    “It must be. The houses are all alike.”
    “Not a large room, then. The jury have seen photographs of Mrs. O’Keefe’s front room. About twelve feet square, would you say?”
    “Yes, I suppose so. About that.”
    “And how far do you sit from the screen?”
    The first sign of slight distress, an anxious look at the judge, then she said: “Well, I sit by the gas fire, and the telly’s in the opposite corner, by the door.”
    “It’s never comfortable to have the screen too close, is it? But let’s see if we can be more definite.” She looked at the judge, “If I may, my Lord,” and received his confirming nod. Then she leaned forward to Ashe’s solicitor, Neville Saunders. “If I ask this gentleman to move slowly towards his Lordship, will you tell me when the distance between them is roughly the same as the distance between you and the set?”
    Neville Saunders, a little surprised but setting his features into the gravity appropriate to taking a more active part in the proceedings, got up from his seat and began his slow game of grandmother’s footsteps. When he was ten feet from the bench, Mrs. Scully nodded. “About there.”
    “Ten feet or a little less.”
    She turned again to the witness. “Mrs. Scully, I know that you are an honest witness. You are trying to tell the truth to help the court and you know how important that truth is. The freedom, the whole future of a young life depends on it. You have told the court that you couldn’t comfortably see your television set at ten feet. You have stated on oath that you recognized the defendant at twenty feet on a dark night and by the light of overhead street lighting. Can you be absolutely sure that you weren’t mistaken? Can you be confident that it wasn’t some other young man leaving the house that night, someone of