Mad Dog Moxley by Peter Corris

Author:Peter Corris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New South

LONG BAY GAOL, ENTRANCE TO THE METROPOLITAN TRAINING CENTRE

‘But not quite?’

‘No, there's something odd about him. It's partly his appearance. His eyes bulge and his ears jut out, giving him a comical look, but that's misleading. You wouldn't want to meet him in a lane on a dark night.’

Hungerford sports a bushy moustache, which he strokes while he's being spoken to. ‘Intelligent?’

‘Not very. Shrewd's more like it.’

‘How did he behave at the inquest? What was his demeanour?’

‘Oh, he's an old hand, Mr Hungerford. He's been in court plenty of times before. Not for anything this serious but he knows how to conduct himself. He was respectful of the coroner and the prosecutor. He became upset when he was shouted out from the body of the court and the police had to protect him from the crowd outside. Feeling ran very high.’

Hungerford nods. ‘It still does. I daresay the court'll be full and there'll be hysterical women. Some…accused persons like that, of course.’

‘Not him, but he'll cope. He seems to be able to sort of wrap himself in a protective coating and seal himself off.’

This strikes Hungerford as fanciful and he consults his watch with a disapproving air. He opens his briefcase and takes out some papers, which he shuffles.

‘At least the prosecution won't be allowed to read out the list of his convictions. He's been in trouble ever since he left the army. Any chance of doing something useful with his war record?’

‘No,’ Niland says. ‘From the dates, he joined up too late to see action.’

‘Pity. The coroner gave us little room for manoeuvre. Insanity looks like the only possible line. Will he accept it, d'you think?’

‘He claims not to be able to remember anything beyond a certain point.’

Loss of memory. That's no defence. That horse won't run. I fear we're in for a difficult time.’

The door opens and Moxley comes in escorted by a gaol official. He is handcuffed but not hobbled. He carries a Bible. He puts the Bible on the desk and returns Niland's nod.

‘Sit down, Moxley. This is Mr Hungerford. He's going to represent you at the trial.’

Moxley involuntarily makes as if to shake hands but the cuffs interrupt the movement.

He sits and nods again.

‘Thank you, sir. I'm glad of it. I wouldn't have wanted to have to defend myself.’

‘Couldn't have that,’ Hungerford says. ‘Now you say you can't remember anything after, let me see…’ He consults a document. ‘After a struggle with Mr Wilkinson.’

Moxley shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘When does your train of memory resume?’

‘Eh?’

‘From what point in time do you start to remember things again?’

Moxley has forgotten what he said in his initial statement about his memory returning when he was looking for petrol on his way back from Moorebank and the question confuses him.

‘I don't know.’

‘Come, come, that's not very helpful.’

A vein throbs in Moxley's forehead and he clenches his fists.

‘I tell you I don't know.’

‘Voice down, Moxley!’ the prison guard snaps from his position by the door.

Moxley half turns and shoots the guard a baleful look.

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