Sentence The Fivehundredandseventyseventh

 

"Ah, the Boys in Blue – better than the Bhoys in Green onywey – collecting for the Police Benevolent Fund again, let me see, how much do I usually give . . . . . ?" but Inspector Ferguson was in no mood for games: "good evening. Mr MacDonald, I have come to ask you a few questions about your late wife's death," the man shook his head, "oh, a tragic accident, such a shock, it fair broke ma heart," and the Inspector consulted his notes: "and it remained broken for two months, was it. no. no. six weeks, well rather less, for that was the date of your wedding to the Second Mrs MacDonald and you presumably met her some time before, because there would be the Posting of the Banns not to mention the acquaintanceship, forming a friendship, the courtship, the proposal, engagement, and you managed all that in less than three weeks, why you must give some young men of the city the benefit of your experience," MacDonald's face reddened and he was about to remonstrate, but MacPherson continued, "no, you are right, I must apologise, it wasn't really such a rush, was it? because Miss Jessie Cathcart was already known to you, indeed had been working for you in your business for two years, so you had plenty of time to go through all that relationship stuff and prepare yourself for the practical steps needed to turn it into marriage, beginning with the fenestration of the only obstacle – the then Mrs MacDonald!" and he was ready for the older man: as MacDonald let out a ripsnorter of protest, and would have jumped to his feet, the Inspector had stepped forward and was now towering over him, his feet in their size 13 boots, standard issue to members of the City of Glasgow Police, pressing MacDonald's slippered feet to the carpet: "don't come the innocent with me, MacDonald – or perhaps Goering would be more correct?" and the tailor's face turned puce and he remained silent as MacPherson let him know what he though of the cowering figure, which, for the sake of anyone of a sensitive disposition could be reduced to "turd-faced meshuggener," for remember that we are some thirty or more years before the "Police and Criminal Evidence Act" which will rather restrict the way Officers may speak to, and even handle, suspects, and MacPherson leaned over, his face now inches away from the other's: "don't worry, Reichsmarshall, I'm not bothered, for it's no odds to me either way – if you are the genuine MacDonald, I'll see you swing for your wife, and if you are actually the Reichsmarshall, then I'll see you swing for MacDonald, so let's get you down to Maryhill Nick and book you in to your new lodgings!" and surprisingly, the man put up no resistance – he was handcuffed and led from the house, taken to the Maryhill Road station where he was advised of his few rights and then transferred in a Black Maria to the Gorbals Cop-Shop where, joined by the Duty

Solicitor, Danny Cohen, he was questioned: "on the morning of Wednesday 16th October 1946 you entered the flat of the O'Hare Family here, in The Gorbals, 12 witnesses have identified you as The Intruder and Mr Connor O'Hare has given a statement that he ejected you from the flat; on or around the 30th of October Mrs Jessie MacDonald of Wilton Street, Maryhill, had her first suspicions that while purporting to be her husband, Mr Hamish MacDonald, you were in fact The Imposter previously identified as The Intruder in The Gorbals a fortnight earlier; at around the same date, employees of Mr MacDonald at his business premises MacDonald Gentlemen's Outfitters, were surprised that you were suddenly no longer able to carry out Mr MacDonald's regular work as a Cutter and Sewer and immediately changed to name of the business to MacDonald Ladies Wear and employed new staff to replace you as the Cutter and Master Sewer; Mrs MacDonald has given a statement that there are intimate details of your body which do not match those of her husband and – at an unusual and intimate Identification Parade she was able to positively identify you as The

Impersonator who had been passing himself off as her husband; as you deny all of these Identifications the Procurator Fiscal has, this morning, decide to charge you in the following terms: 1: that you, former Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering as The Intruder at the O'Hare Apartment did enter that place for the purpose of Burglary, 2: in a hiding place not yet discovered you countrified yourself to the extent that you would be able to murder Mr Hamish MacDonald and subsequently as The Impersonator of Mr MacDonald pass yourself off as him at home, work, in The Clansman Bar and at Firhill where you used Mr MacDonald's Season Ticket to attend the Partick Thistle vs Celtic Match where you were identified by Masters Thomas and Robert O'Hare and their father, Mr Connor O'Hare, 3: should a jury find these charges 'Not Proven' or 'Not Guilty' you will then be charged as Mr Hamish MacDonald with the Wilful Homicide of Mrs Agatha MacDonald by defenestration for monetary gain and to enable you to marry your long-term paramour, Miss Jessie Cathcart; do you have anything to say? and I must caution you that anything you do say will be taken down and may

used in evidence against you in Court?" and MacPherson suddenly noticed that the man was nictitating – the evil bastard was winking at him as much as to say: "if I can be acquitted of the first charge, and the second, I'll damn well get off the third!" and an incipient doubt began to worm it's way through his brain – if this turly was Goering, though how that was possible he did not know, then he would be the most wily and difficult murderer to convict!