William Monk 17 - Acceptable Loss

Parfitt’s neck,” Monk answered.
    There was a sigh of breath and a buzz of movement around the court.
    “And did you trace its owner?” Winchester asked.
    “Yes, sir. It belonged to a Mr. Rupert Cardew …” Monk could not continue because of the uproar.
    When the judge had regained control, Winchester thanked him and invited Monk to proceed.
    “Mr. Cardew said that the item had been stolen from him the previous afternoon, and we later found evidence that that was indeed so.”
    “Did this evidence implicate Arthur Ballinger?”
    “No, sir.”
    “So what did, Mr. Monk? So far, as I’m sure Sir Oliver would be quick to point out, there is nothing in the course of your investigation to suggest his name to you, much less to imply his guilt in the matter at all!”
    “A short handwritten note inviting Parfitt to meet the accused at the boat, on the evening of his death,” Monk replied.
    Again there were gasps and cries in the body of the court, and it was several moments before the judge managed to restore order.
    “And where did you find this extraordinary document?” Winchester inquired.
    “Written above another note given to me, presumably without appreciating its importance, by Mr. Jones, one of Mr. Parfitt’s employees,” Monk told him. “Parfitt wrote down the time he wanted Jones to ferry him to his boat.”
    “Indeed. And was this note signed by the accused?”
    “No. It was written on the back of a piece of paper, on the front of which was a list of medicines to be purchased for the use of patients in the Portpool Lane Clinic.”
    Winchester’s black eyebrows shot up. “Good heavens! Are you certain?”
    “Yes. We took it to the clinic and asked those who work there to identify it.”
    “Just a moment! What made you consider the possibility that it had anything to do with them, Mr. Monk?”
    “I asked my wife, who is a nurse there, if she recognized the items on the list. She did. She also knew who had written the list and when, because of the writing and what was listed.”
    The silence in the courtroom was so thick, someone wheezing in the back row was momentarily audible.
    Thoughts raced through Rathbone’s mind as to what he could ask Monk, how he could tear this apart. And, looking at Monk’s face, heknew that he was already prepared, even waiting. Was it possible that this time he really was sure?
    “She wrote this list?” Winchester asked skeptically. “And you did not immediately recognize her hand, Mr. Monk? That strains credulity.”
    “No, she didn’t write it,” Monk replied with the vestige of a smile. “It was written by Mrs. Claudine Burroughs, a woman of good society who gives her time to helping the sick and the poor. I did not recognize her hand because I am not familiar with it, but my wife did.”
    “I see. And how did you deduce from this recognition that the subsequent note on the same piece of paper was written by Mr. Ballinger?”
    “Because Mrs. Burroughs said she gave the list to Lady Rathbone to purchase the—”
    There was another explosion of sound in the courtroom.
    The judge banged his gavel and commanded silence, on pain of people’s forcible removal from the room.
    Rathbone felt the heat sear up his face until he could hardly breathe. He did not dare look at Margaret, or her family, although he knew exactly to the inch how far he would have to turn his head to do so.
    “To purchase the medicines from the apothecary,” Monk continued. “Which Lady Rathbone did, for she gave the receipts to Mrs. Burroughs but did not return the original list. It seems reasonable, even inevitable, to assume that she discarded it where Mr. Ballinger, her father, found it and tore off a piece to use for this note to Parfitt, not knowing that what was on the back was so distinctive.”
    “I see,” Winchester said gravely. “And did you subsequently ask Mr. Ballinger to account for his whereabouts that evening?”
    “Yes, sir,” Monk replied. “He never pretended that he was not in the area, but he did say that he was in Mortlake, some short distance up the river from Corney Reach, where the body was found. He was in the company of a friend, which the friend verified. However, it is possible, if you are a strong rower, to take a boat from Mortlake to Corney Reach and come back again, then catch a hansom at the south side of the river to the ferry where Mr. Ballinger originally crossed, all in the time that he stated and his friend