Chapter 7: A Man of Many Parts

Judge Embert Wimple was not amused. Normally, he looked forward to his day in court, especially now that all his cases were heard in camera, a stage which gave him latitude for the odd quip which might have been misinterpreted in an open forum. Today was different, for the judge had become immersed in space travel, and was resentful of matters which interfered with his studies in that field. He was heading toward the conclusion that, desirable though interplanetary missions were, there was no good reason why the astronauts involved should undergo unnecessary hardships. Why not, he reasoned, wait until people could be sent to Mars and beyond in reasonable comfort? The direct route was the thing. None of this intolerably lengthy sling-shot stuff. What was needed was an improved propulsion system. So the judge was mired in questions of plasma rockets, nuclear pulses and the like. This would be suitable fodder for the long winter evenings, which were far off, this being July. Small wonder that the legal luminary was more than usually detached from mundane matters.

From what little Embert Wimple knew of it, today’s case was all too earthly, its only somewhat unusual feature being that one of the litigants was not an individual, but a bank. Reluctantly putting aside his joust with celestial mechanics, the judge girded his loins to address the troubles of his fellows. There would be compensation later, in the form of an evening with an audio-tape of ‘The Mikado’. For a devoted Savoyard, what could be better?

Ritual being what it is, Embert Wimple was pleased to note that the contestants in the case were represented by two familiar faces, Rodney Melliflewes appearing for the prosecuting bank and Daniel Pettigrew for the defendant, Malcolm Bentley. The advocates had no doubt that the judge would fail to match their faces with their names and as ever, no-one would be disturbed. The only exception had occurred four years earlier, when Judge Wimple had got the two counsels’ names right, but had repeatedly misapplied them. That had caused some confusion until the learned gentlemen had got the hang of it.

Having established that all was as it should be, the judge nodded at Melliflewes. “Perhaps you would make a start, Mr Brewster,” he said.

“Thank you, Your Honour.” That wasn’t too bad, thought Melliflewes. After all, though he rarely appeared nowadays, Brewster was a pretty senior chap, so there was obviously nothing derogatory here. “The incident with which we are concerned occurred on the ninth of March. At about one-thirty in the afternoon of that day, the defendant entered my client’s High Street premises in this city. The branch is a relatively small one, with four cash desks, two of which were closed at the time. Mr Bentley approached one of the open counters, depositing upon it a shopping bag and producing with his left hand a note, demanding money and indicating that he was armed. In his right hand, Mr Bentley had a large manila envelope, deformed in such a way that the cashier was convinced that it concealed a gun. The cashier fainted, causing her colleague, who had no customer at the time, to spring into the breach. This second lady immediately grasped the position and emptied the cash drawer into Mr Bentley’s bag.”

“Was there no resistance?” said the judge.

“No, Your Honour. The standing instructions to the bank’s staff are that none should be offered.”

“Not even a token gesture?”

“No, Your Honour.”

“I see. What happened then?”

“The defendant left the premises with the money, which amounted to six hundred and eighty pounds. It was only afterwards that matters became somewhat bizarre.”

“Did they indeed? How?”

“Mr Bentley returned to the bank at 2.45 p.m., seeking to rent a safe-deposit box. By that time, the police had visited the premises, done what they had to do and left. Normal business had been restored and even the young lady who had earlier collapsed was back at her post – as it happened, the very one at which the defendant again appeared. Mr Bentley duly completed the formalities and deposited the stolen money in his newly-acquired box.”

“Astounding,” said the judge. “So, you are saying that Mr Bentley robbed the bank, then almost immediately rented a safe-deposit box in the same branch, in order to secure the proceeds of his activity. Was he not recognised?”

“He was, Your Honour. That is how we come to the present position.”

Melliflewes offered a ‘digestive’ pause, but overdid it and the judge was not disposed to tolerate histrionics. He leaned forwards. “Surely you do not wish to keep us in suspense, Mr Medlicott? Our task here is to resolve cases, not prolong them. Please enlarge.”

Being an old campaigner, Melliflewes was unruffled. “I was about to, Your Honour. When he first appeared, Mr Bentley was in disguise, wearing contact lenses, a black wig and a very striking black suit, with a chalk-stripe motif. On the second occasion, his appearance was his natural one, as you see him now.” The judge noted that defendant had close-cropped blond hair and wore a blue denim jacket, plaid shirt, faded blue jeans and steel-rimmed glasses. “Yet you say that he was spotted. How?”

“It was fortuitous, Your Honour. Mr Bentley, who was – and still is – unemployed, was attending a course on computer literacy, his intention being to find work commensurate with the training provided. As is common in such circumstances, he had been given an identifying cardboard lapel tag, bearing his forename. He wore that item when he carried out the raid and again when he returned.”

“Good gracious,” the judge exclaimed. “This is like reading a book of jokes. So, Mr Bentley not only robbed the bank branch, then promptly used the same place to put away his booty, but advertised himself while so doing?”

Melliflewes bowed. “That is more or less the case, Your Honour.”

“How was he apprehended?”

“It was not the name in itself that betrayed him. The tag merely identified its wearer as ‘Malcolm’. The real revelation came in that the defendant, being of a nervous disposition, had at some point handled the item and while doing so, had torn it before first visiting the bank and had repaired it with clear adhesive tape. When he first appeared, the cashier was not able to read the name, but noted the tape. When Mr Bentley returned to rent the safe-deposit box, the young lady he accosted for the second time was in a state of heightened alertness. She contacted the branch manager while Mr Bentley was dealing with the paperwork. The manager informed the police, who detained the defendant when he sought to leave the bank. Under questioning, Mr Bentley confessed, albeit on a qualified basis. The bank felt obliged, in the wider public interest, to initiate the proceedings which have led us here.”