The sun rose as a jewel over the Milton horizon that morning, but one man did not notice, striding in all black and black spirits towards the courthouse. John kept his head low, checking his pocket watch as he picked his way through the cluster of gravestones and brambles, mind far away but body trapped inexplicably in some earthly place. He was to meet Slater that day, and with him he brought the bribes that could be carried; the necklace and the money. As for the piano, he would have several constables over to pick it up and bring it as evidence.
Slater had agreed to meet him and had also invited a man that could serve as the prosecution should the case be pursued, and both men awaited him the stoic birdcage courthouse. Upon arriving at its lofty oak doors he paused a moment mentally taking stock of his situation. They were gathered to discuss legal action against Slickson and his son, but only if the letter came from Margaret, whom he had tasked in procuring a willing subject. If all went accordingly, they would soon be receiving her confirmation, and the case could proceed. Normally badgering the witness into a statement was extremely unethical and unorthodox, but Slater wished to push the Slickson's into action, and on the back of multiple bribes seeming to profess their guilt, the business was in his eyes a necessary evil.
The tall, straight backed magistrate was already within the meeting room when John pushed the door, turning his tawny eyes and sharp nose, almost too long for his face, towards John. His face was not handsome but keen; his expression like some hawk in long-sighted wisdom. Opposite him sat a man he had seen before; an old acquaintance from London. This man could not be said to have the same severe countenance as his partner, but his smooth skin and bright eyes were shaded dark with concern and his usually bonny face appeared older and lined. Even his beard seemed in worried consternation, its brown ends turned down as if in disappointment. Mr. Garrett would be Mary's attorney should she oblige him and the court.
Upon seeing John the men settled in more comfortably, and Slater spread several papers out in front of him, his mouth a determined line.
"Have you got the bribes with you Thornton?" he asked, sniffing slightly in the cold, stale air.
"Indeed," John passed the items across the table and heard Garrett's sharp intake of breath when Slater opened the bracelet box. Casting an annoyed glance sideways, Slater took out the glittering present and turned it over, as one might appraise a rare gem or fine cloth.
"One hundred pounds—or abouts," he said matter-of-factly, "and these," he fingered the notes, "fifteen pounds. A strange sum wouldn't you agree?"
The men nodded their agreement and after placing the bracelet down, he pulled another large, rather bulky item from his carpetbag. It was another bribe, this time a set of dueling pistols, and John could not contain his astonishment. Laughing in a rather brash manner, he leaned in for a moment noticing the pistols were American in make and very old.
"They must have discovered your joy in antiquated guns," he said.
"Five hundred pounds at least," Slater ignored him. "If I was not a better man I would have taken this—and you, Thornton, the piano forte. You are not considering keeping it are you?"
"Lands no," John shook his head vehemently, "we could never possess what has been bought with silence."
"I agree," Garrett said, "now, I must know, does the lady wish to testify? I remind you that we do not have a case unless she does."
"That or if one of the Slickson lot slips up," Slater reminded them bitterly. "My constables are doing their best, but this is a tight lipped lot, and no one's been murdered, so there can be no serious prosecution without at least one willing witness."
"My wife is speaking to the girl now," John replied, "her response will be here posthaste."
"I hope it is," Garrett said lowly, "then we can work on a case to bring James Slickson back to Milton for the trial. Is there any other evidence I should be aware of?"
"Our leads have us pointed at Kal Painter," Slater said, "thought they all seem to blame each other."
"How do you know he is a lead then? Do you have any evidence?" Garrett scribbled furiously on a pad he had set on the table.
"The other ringleader is said to be Sydney Hamper, the Hamper Cotton boy," Slater replied, "but my evidence has it that Painter was somewhat of a lackey to the boys and I am sure that once he is threatened with years in the workhouse he will comply."
"When I was a boy they beat confessions out of scum like him," John shook his head.
"Yes, but they happened to be rather inaccurate confessions," Garrett stared at him across the table, "and in this case we need nothing that will give the aggressors the upper hand. They have hired Jack Farighty, the defense lawyer from London."
There was a collective expression of dread from both John and Slater at this announcement, and Garrett continued, not feeling or hiding his own concerns. "As we all have been made aware, Farighty is a formidable man; one with such a reputation I am surprised he bothered to council in our ugly backwater affair."
"If his son is innocent, why is Slickson doing this," Slater commented blandly, "I suppose he must be guilty as sin, and we must have not only Mary's testimony but also Georgia Richard's if we are to win."
"Suspicious behavior indeed," Garrett said, "and we have noted this. I have a man going to Miss Richard's home now for a statement. If she refuses to give it we must find another avenue to prosecute. Will we be receiving the letter from your wife soon, Mr. Thornton?"
"Oh, yes," John stood and opened the door a crack to inspect for mail carriers, "any time."
"Well, I have more to discuss with you, Garrett," Slater said, turning away from John, "and some pertinent facts I must divulge before a potential trial. I cannot tell you now, however—I am sorry Thornton, but it may help us and point the proverbial finger in the right direction."
"I understand," John replied, at long last glimpsing a harried looking boy, a heavy mail pouch slung across his chest. Paying the boy, John was handed not one but two letters. One was of course addressed to him, and the other to Slater. Upon confirming the correct recipients they boy took his payment and scurried off, evidently uncomfortable in the company of three serious and formidable looking gentlemen.
John opened the first letter without a penknife and handed the other to Slater, who, with a slightly confused frown that lengthened his nose over his thin upper lip took it.
The first note was a confirmation of Mary's willingness to stand, and her statement taken by the visiting constable that day. Within her account was detailed and though there was nothing untoward, John had the distinct feeling something had been omitted. The account and agreement by Mary seemed odd; something or someone must have given her extreme reason to provide the constable with such detailed and graphic imagery of the night in question. Kal Painter was insinuated within, as was James Slickson, but she must have known her father would soon be made aware of her testimony and John wondered at her pluck. There was no reason to suggest her denouncement of Painter's character, unless… John shook his head and handed the letter to Garrett.
Garrett smiled dryly at receiving it, but his face grew firm again upon reading the testimony.
"Painter's the rapist?" Garrett looked incredulous. John shrugged and Slater's frown deepened.
"She said it was Slickson at first, that's why she stabbed him," John responded, a little light headed.
"I hear that, but this says otherwise. Why would she lie? Is she protecting the boy?"
"Painter's no victim," Slater said darkly, "I have his arrest record here. I think this case might turn on him after all."
"Why?" John nearly shouted his outrage, "he is a plant! Slickson planned this."
"Maybe," Slater pursed his lips and glanced down at the table.
"He'll be hung if found guilty," Garrett's face hardened. "We must be sure this is the truth. I will visit Mary and council her."
"You need to," John said, suddenly feeling rather sick, "I know Painter isn't involved like this."
"How?" Slater said sharply, turning to John.
"I know what she told my wife," John sat a little straighter, defending his argument. "The child was almost in vapors; I doubt she had the capacity to lie."
"Many can," Slater shook his head, "especially when defending theirs or others honor."
"At any rate," Garrett shuffled his papers, "I will need a copy of that record, Mr. Slater and will be in touch with you both before the week is out. I am confident we can get to the bottom of this and will meet again to discuss the evidence closer to the trial." Garrett stood up and slid his papers away, his eyes on Slater, then John. "I assume we will be in the utmost privacy. Nothing must be said to your wife or the girl." John, a little insulted, nodded, and Garrett left the room to allow John and Slater to pack their own things.
"Don't look so downtrodden Thornton," Slater grumbled, "we still have Slater on bribing officers of the court and the cult involvement. We'll know who started this at least."
"At whose expense?" John asked, and the question echoed in his head even as he collapsed beside Margaret that night, too exhausted to speak. At whose expense?
AN: The trial is brewing and I have a plan! What did everyone think of this chapter, does anyone want more? R&R as always and I hope this chapter helped clear up Slater's character a bit. I know he's been a murky figure so far!