Fletcher turned his attention back to the defense witness. "Mrs. Elliot, I had enough time to leave the courthouse, walk to the public library on the other side of the street, locate the Hemingway shelf, check out a book with my library card, and still be back in the courtroom with eleven seconds to spare. But you didn't have enough time to walk across your bedroom, dial 911 and ask for assistance when you believed your husband might have been in mortal danger. And the reason you didn't is because you knew your husband had fired the first shot, and you were fearful of what he might have done."

"But even if I did think that," said Rebecca, losing her composure, "it's only the second bullet that matters, the one that killed Ralph.

Perhaps you've forgotten that the first bullet ended up in the ceiling, or are you now suggesting that my husband killed himself?"

"No, I am not," said Fletcher, "so why don't you now tell the court exactly what you did when you heard the second shot."

"I went to the top of the stairs and saw Mr.

Cartwright running out of the house."

"But he didn't see you?"

"No, he only glanced back in my direction."

"I don't think so, Mrs. Elliot. I think you saw him very clearly when he calmly walked past you in the corridor."

"He couldn't have walked past me in the corridor because I was at the top of the stairs."

"I agree that he couldn't have seen you if you had been at the top of the stairs," said Fletcher as he returned to the table and selected a photograph, before walking back across to the witnessstand. He passed the photograph over to her. "As you will see from this picture, Mrs. Elliot, anyone who left your husband's study, walked into the corridor and then out of the front door could not have been observed from the top of the stairs." He paused so that the jury could take in the significance of his statement, before continuing, "No, the truth is, Mrs.

Elliot, that you were not standing at the top of the stairs, but in the hallway when Mr. Cartwright came out of your husband's study, and if you would like me to ask the judge to adjourn so that the jury can visit your home and check on the veracity of your statement, I would be quite happy to do so."

"Well, I might have been halfway down the stairs."

"You weren't even on the stairs, Mrs. Elliot, you were in the hallway, and you were not, as you also claimed, in your robe, but in a blue dress that you had worn to a cocktail party earlier that evening, which is why you didn't see the television debate!"

"I was in a robe and there's a picture of me to prove it."

"Indeed there is," said Fletcher, once again returning to the table and extracting another photograph, "which I am happy to enter as evidence-item 122, your honor."

The judge, prosecution team and the jury began to rummage through their files as Fletcher handed over his copy to Mrs. Elliot.

"There you are," she said, "it's just as I told you, I'm sitting in the hallway in my robe."

"You are indeed, Mrs. Elliot, and that photograph was taken by the police photographer, and we've since had it enlarged so we can consider all the details more clearly. Your honor, I would like to submit this enlarged photograph as evidence."

"Objection, your honor," said Ebden, leaping up from his place. "We have not been given an opportunity to study this photograph.""It's state's evidence, Mr. Ebden, and has been in your possession for weeks," the judge reminded him. "Your objection is overruled."

"Please study the photograph carefully," said Fletcher as he walked away from Mrs. Elliot and passed the state's attorney a copy of the enlarged photo. A clerk handed one to each member of the jury. Fletcher then turned back to face Rebecca. "And do tell the court what you see."

"It's a photograph of me sitting in the hallway in my robe."

"It is indeed, but what are you wearing on your left wrist and around your neck?" Fletcher asked, before turning to face the jury, all of whom were now studying the photograph intently.

The blood drained from Rebecca's face.

"I do believe they're your wristwatch and your pearl necklace," said Fletcher answering his own question. "Do you remember?" He paused. "The ones you always locked away in your safe just before going to bed because there had been several burglaries in the area recently?" Fletcher turned to face Chief Culver and Detective Petrowski, who were seated in the front row. "It is, as Detective Petrowski reminded us, the little mistakes that always reveal the amateur." Fletcher turned back and looked directly at Rebecca, before adding, "You may have forgotten to take off your watch and necklace, Mrs. Elliot, but I can tell you something you didn't forget to take off, your dress."

Fletcher placed his hands on the jury box rail before saying slowly and without expression. "Because you didn't do that until after you'd killed your husband."

Several people rose at once, and the judge carried on banging his gavel before it was quiet enough for the state's attorney to say in a loud voice, "Objection. How can wearing a wristwatch prove that Mrs. Elliot murdered her husband?"

"I agree with you, Mr. Ebden," said the judge and turning to Fletcher suggested, "That's quite a quantum leap, counselor.""Then I will be happy to take the state's attorney through it step by step, your honor." The judge nodded. "When Mr. Cartwright arrived at the house, he overheard an argument going on between Mr.

and Mrs. Elliot, and after he'd knocked on the door, it was Mr. Elliot who answered it, while Mrs. Elliot was nowhere to be seen. I'm willing to accept that she did run up to the top of the stairs so that she could overhear what was going on while not being observed, but the moment the first shot was fired, she came back down into the corridor and listened to the quarrel taking place between her husband and my client. Three or four minutes later, Mr. Cartwright walked calmly out of the study and passed Mrs.

Elliot in the corridor, before opening the front door. He looked back at Mrs. Elliot, which is why he was able to tell the police questioning him later that night that she was wearing a low-cut blue dress and a string of pearls. If the jury studies the photograph of Mrs. Elliot, if I'm not mistaken, she is wearing the same string of pearls as the ones she has on today." Rebecca touched her necklace as Fletcher continued. "But let's not rely on my client's word, but on your own statement, Mrs. Elliot." He turned another page of the state's evidence, before he began reading.

"I ran into the study, saw my husband's body slumped on the floor and then called the police."

"That's right, I did ring Chief Culver at home, he's already confirmed that," interjected Rebecca.

"But why did you call the chief of police first?"

"Because my husband had been murdered."

"But in your evidence, Mrs. Elliot, given to Detective Petrowski only moments after your husband's death, you stated that you saw Ralph slumped in the corner of his study, blood coming from his mouth, and immediately called the chief of police."

"Yes, that's exactly what I did," shouted Rebecca.

Fletcher paused before turning to face the jury."If I saw my wife slumped in a corner with blood coming from her mouth, the first thing I would do is to check to see if she was still alive and, if she was, I wouldn't call for the police, I'd call for an ambulance. And at no time did you call for an ambulance, Mrs. Elliot. Why? Because you already knew that your husband was dead."

Once again there was uproar in the body of the court, and the reporters who weren't old-fashioned enough to take shorthand struggled to get down every word.

"Mrs. Elliot," continued Fletcher, once the judge had stopped banging his gavel, "allow me to repeat the words you said only a few moments ago when questioned by the state's attorney." Fletcher picked up one of the yellow pads from his desk and began reading. was I suddenly felt cold and sick to my stomach, and I thought I was going to faint. I staggered back out into the corridor and collapsed on the floor."" Fletcher threw the notepad down on his desk, stared at Mrs. Elliot and said, "You still haven't even bothered to check if your husband is alive, but you didn't need to, did you, because you knew he was dead; after all, it was you who had killed him."

"Then why didn't they find any traces of gunpowder residue on my robe?" Rebecca shouted above the banging of the judge's gavel.

"Because when you shot your husband, you weren't in your robe, Mrs. Elliot, but still in the blue dress you'd been wearing that evening. It was only after you had killed Ralph that you ran upstairs to change into your nightgown and robe. But unfortunately Detective Petrowski switched on his car siren, broke the speed limit, and managed to be with you six minutes later, which is why you had to rush back downstairs, forgetting to take off your watch or pearls. And even more damning, not leaving yourself enough time to close the front door. If, as you have claimed, Mr. Cartwright had killed your husband, and then run out of the door, the first thing you would have done would be to make sure that it was closed so he couldn'tget back in to harm you. But Detective Petrowski, conscientious man that he is, arrived a little too quickly for you, and even remarked how surprised he was to find the front door open.

Amateurs often panic, and that's when they make simple mistakes," he repeated almost in a whisper. "Because the truth is that once Mr.

Cartwright had walked past you in the hallway, you then ran into the study, picked up the gun and realized this was a perfect opportunity to be rid of a husband you'd despised for years. The shot Mr. Cartwright heard as he was driving away from the house was indeed the bullet that killed your husband, but it wasn't Mr.

Cartwright who pulled the trigger, it was you. What Mr. Cartwright did do was give you the perfect alibi, and a solution to all your problems." He paused and, turning away from the jury, added, "If only you had remembered to remove your wristwatch and pearls before you came downstairs, closed the front door and then phoned for an ambulance, rather than the chief of police, you would have committed the perfect murder, and my client would be facing the death penalty."

"I didn't kill him."

"Then who did? Because it can't have been Mr.

Cartwright, as he left some time before the second shot was fired. I feel sure you recall his words when confronted by the chief-"he was still alive when I left him," and by the way, Mr. Cartwright didn't find it necessary to change out of the suit he'd been wearing earlier that evening."

Once again Fletcher turned to face the jury, but they were now all staring at Mrs. Elliot.

She buried her head in her hands and whispered, "Ralph's the one who should be on trial. He was responsible for his own death."

However firmly Judge Kravats called the court to order, it was still some time before he was able to restore calm. Fletcher waited until he had complete silence, before he delivered his next sentence.

"But how is that possible, Mrs. Elliot?" heasked. "After all, it was Detective Petrowski who pointed out that it's quite difficult to shoot yourself from four feet away."

"He made me do it."

Ebden leaped to his feet as the public began repeating the sentence to each other.

"Objection, your honor, the witness is being. ."

"Overruled," said Judge Kravats firmly.

"Sit down, Mr. Ebden, and remain seated." The judge turned his attention back to the witness.

"What did you mean, Mrs. Elliot, by "he made me do it"?"

Rebecca turned to the judge, who looked down at her with concern. "You honor, Ralph was desperate to win the election at any cost, and after Nat told him that Luke had committed suicide, he HSF knew he no longer had any hope of becoming governor. He kept pacing around the room repeating the words, "I will still kill you," if then he snapped his fingers and said, "I've got the solution, you're ." going to have to do it.""

"What did he mean by that?" asked the judge.

"To begin with I didn't understand myself, your honor, then he started shouting at me. He said, There's no time to argue, otherwise he'll get away, and then we'll never be able to pin it on him, so I'll tell you exactly what you're going to do. First, you'll shoot me in the shoulder, and then you'll call the chief at home and tell him that you were in the bedroom when you heard the first shot. You came rushing downstairs when you heard the second shot, and that's when you saw Cartwright running out of the front door.""

"But why did you agree to go along with this outrageous suggestion?" asked the judge.

"I didn't," said Rebecca. "I told him if there was any shooting to be done, he could do it himself, because I wasn't going to get involved."

"And what did he say to that?" asked the judge.

"That he couldn't shoot himself because the police wouldbe able to work that out, but if I did it, they would never know."

"But that still doesn't explain why you agreed to go through with it?"

"I didn't," repeated Rebecca quietly.

"I told him I would have nothing to do with it, Nat had never done me any harm. But then Ralph grabbed the gun and said, 'If you're not willing to go through with it, then there's only one alternative, I'll have to shoot you." I was terrified, but all he said was, I'll tell everyone that it was Nat Cartwright who killed my wife when she tried to come to my rescue, then they'll be even more sympathetic when I play the part of the grieving widower." He laughed, and added, 'Don't think I wouldn't do it." He then took a handkerchief out of his pocket and said, "Wrap this around your hand, so your fingerprints won't be on the gun."" Rebecca was silent for some time before she whispered, "I remember picking up the gun and pointing it at Ralph's shoulder, but I closed my eyes just as I pulled the trigger. When I opened them, Ralph was slumped in the corner.

I didn't need to check to know that he was dead. I panicked, dropped the gun, ran upstairs and called the chief at home just as Ralph had told me to. Then I started to undress. I'd just put on my robe when I heard the siren. I looked through the curtains and saw a police car turning into the driveway. I ran back downstairs as the car was pulling up outside the house, which didn't leave me enough time to close the front door. I slumped down in the hallway just before Detective Petrowski came rushing in." She bowed her head and this time the weeping was genuine and unrehearsed. Whispering turned to chattering as everyone in the courtroom began to discuss Rebecca's testimony.

Fletcher turned to face the state's attorney, who was in a huddle, consulting his team. He made no attempt to hurry them, and returned to take his seat next to Nat. It was some time before Ebden eventually rose from his place. "Your honor.""Yes, Mr. Ebden?" said the judge.

"The state withdraws all charges against the defendant." He paused for some time. "On a personal note," he added as he turned to face Nat and Fletcher, "having watched you as a team, I can't wait to see what will happen when you're up against each other."

Spontaneous applause broke out from the public benches, and the noise was such that they did not hear the judge release the prisoner, dismiss the jury, and declare the case closed.

Nat leaned across and almost had to shout, "Thank you," before adding, "two inadequate words as I'll spend the rest of my life in your debt without ever being able to properly repay you. But nevertheless, thank you."

Fletcher smiled. "Clients," he said, "fall into two categories: those you hope never to see again, and just occasionally those who you know will be friends for the rest..."

Su Ling suddenly appeared by her husband's side and threw her arms around him.

"Thank God," she said.

"Governor will do," said Fletcher, as Nat and Su Ling laughed for the first time in weeks. Before Nat could respond, Lucy came bursting through the barrier and greeted her father with the words, "Well done, Dad, I'm very proud of you."

"Praise indeed," said Fletcher. "Nat, this is my daughter Lucy, who fortunately isn't yet old enough to vote for you, but if she were ..." Fletcher looked around, "so where's the woman who caused all this trouble in the first place?"

"Mom's at home," replied Lucy. "After all, you did tell her it would be at least another week before Mr. Cartwright would be on the stand."

"True," said Fletcher.

"And please pass on my thanks to your wife,"

said Su Ling. "We will always remember that it was Annie who persuaded you to rep resent my husband. Perhaps we can all get together in the near future, and. ."

"Not until after the election," said Fletcher firmly, "as I'm still hoping that at least one memberof my family will be voting for me." He paused, and turning to Nat said, "Do you know the real reason I worked so hard on this case?"

"You couldn't face the thought of having to spend the next few weeks with Barbara Hunter," said Nat.

"Something like that," he said, with a smile.

Fletcher was about to go across and shake hands with the state's team, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Rebecca Elliot still sitting in the witness stand waiting for the court to clear. Her head was bowed, and she looked forlorn and lonely.

"I know it's hard to believe," said Fletcher, "but I actually feel sorry for her."

"You should," said Nat, "because one thing's for certain, Ralph Elliot would have murdered his wife if he had thought it would win him the election."

BOOK SIX

REVELATION

fletcher sat in his Senate office reading the morning papers the day after the trial.

"What an ungrateful lot," he said, passing the Hartford Courant across to his daughter.

"You should have left him to fry," said Lucy as she glanced at the latest opinion poll figures.

"Expressed with your usual elegance and charm,"

said Fletcher. "It does make me wonder if all the money I've spent sending you to Hotchkiss has been worthwhile, not to mention what Vassar is going to cost me."