MURDER BRIEF

by Mark Dryden

  She removed her bra. "Of course I do."

  What Robyn didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her. He dispatched her from his mind and kicked off his shoes. Then he pulled off his pants and tossed them over the back of an armchair.

  To promote trust and camaraderie, barristers had always had an open-door policy. However, that evening he’d taken the precaution of locking his door. So he got a big shock when he heard the familiar squeak of his door-handle turning. He’d never imagined it could sound so loud.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Brian Davis, clad in only a singlet, underpants and socks, fearfully watched the door swing open. He prayed the visitor was a cleaner, a security guard or even a colleague wanting to borrow a law report. As long as it wasn’t Robyn. He would happily suffer the most hideous embarrassment if it wasn’t her.

  No such luck. Robyn - the woman he loved - stepped into the room, holding a key. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Her eyes immediately fell on his trousers which, instead of clothing his legs, were draped over the back of an armchair. He desperately wanted to jump into them. But even if he did, he couldn’t just hide Patricia in one of the pockets.

  Next, Robyn’s eyes oscillated between the two scantily clad barristers. Her face went white, then red. She yelled at Brian, "you fucking, fucking bastard", spun around and stormed out of the room.

  Patricia yelped and reached for her bra.

  Brian felt a strange combination of shock, fear, guilt and embarrassment. But one thought reigned supreme: he had to catch Robyn before she disappeared.

  Heart pounding, he grabbed his pants and almost vaulted into them. No time for shoes. Buckling his belt, he raced across the deserted floor towards the lifts, where Robyn maniacally jabbed the down button. At some point, his penis had cancelled his erection.

  He said: "Stop Robyn. Stop. Let me explain. Stop."

  Robyn kept punching the button. "Leave me alone."

  Brian’s occupation was to think up excuses for the most atrocious conduct. Now, in his own defence, he was bereft. He just started talking, hoping for a flash of inspiration. "Look, umm, I know that looked bad. I know you must be very angry. But, ah, nothing happened - nothing." Yes, he’d claim there was no actus reus.

  She turned and glared. "Nothing happened? You had your fucking pants off."

  "Yeah. But we didn’t do anything. There was no sex."

  She grimaced. "Oh, I see. You were going to fuck her, but didn’t get the chance. So everything’s Okay-Dokay. Is that what you’re saying?"

  His defence stunk, but he couldn’t think of a better one. "Well, yeah, I suppose so."

  "If I hadn’t turned up, you’d be fucking her right now, wouldn’t you?"

  "Not necessarily."

  She snarled and roared. "Not necessarily? You had your pants off. Do you think I’m a moron?"

  "No. But I was having doubts about going ahead."

  She looked sardonic. "Yeah, I could see that."

  "But you don’t understand about Patricia and me: we’re not in a relationship; we’ve never had a relationship - we’re just friends. So you’ve got nothing to worry about."

  Robyn grimaced. "You kidding? You were going to shag her."

  "Yeah, but she doesn’t mean anything to me. Nothing. In fact, I’ll never see her again, I promise."

  "Look, as far as I’m concerned, you can shag her for all eternity. I don’t care, because I’m finished with you, understand? Finished."

  Brian knew his blathering had stripped him of dignity without improving his position one iota. He should shut up. But his mouth was in overdrive. "I love you. You’re the woman I want."

  Robyn shook her head vehemently. "You should have thought of that before you tried to shag her. I just hope she’s worth it."

  A lift arrived. Robyn stepped inside and slapped the "down" button.

  He looked desperate. "Maybe we can talk about this tomorrow, when you’re calmer?"

  "Get fucked."

  The lift doors shut.

  Brian slouched back to his room, depressed and embarrassed. How the hell did he get into this situation? One possibility was that he fucked up. But he couldn’t accept that, because only fools fuck up, and he wasn’t a fool. No, this was a simple case of bad luck. For once, fate had dealt him a shitty hand.

  Patricia, now fully dressed, looked concerned. "Was that your girlfriend?"

  "Ex-girlfriend," he said glumly.

  "Oh. Sorry to hear that."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Robyn had plenty of time to prepare herself for the scene in Brian’s room. But the reality was a lot uglier and more distressing than she expected. She’d never felt so angry and humiliated.

  Still trembling, she left the building and stopped a passing taxi. As it took her home, she slowly regained her composure and wondered what to tell people about their break-up. Should she reveal Brian cheated on her? If she did, people would laugh at her for trusting such a notorious skirt-chaser and then letting him wander. Better to say they were incompatible and separated amicably? Yes, she’d bury the messy details; just say the chemistry was wrong.

  She trotted up the front steps. The hallway light was on. Veronica. Shit. Robyn didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She’d just exchange a few pleasantries and retreat to her room.

  As she opened the front door, Veronica called from the lounge room. "Hey, I’m in here."

  She stepped into the lounge room and saw her friend sitting on the couch in a grey track-suit, holding a bowl of cherries, watching a cooking show noted for ritually humiliating contestants.

  Robyn thought she had her emotions under control. But Veronica immediately looked concerned. "Hi there. You OK?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Well, you look a bit, umm, upset."

  Veronica’s concern unbalanced Robyn. Her raw emotions welled up and she burst into tears: "No, no, I’m not OK."

  Veronica jumped up and threw her arms around Robyn. "Christ. What’s wrong?"

  Robyn had vowed not to reveal that Brian cheated on her. But now, tasting salty tears, she desperately needed some sympathy, even though that was not usually Veronica’s strong suit. "It’s Brian. He’s…he’s been seeing someone else."

  Robyn dropped her head onto Veronica’s shoulder and sobbed loudly. Veronica patted her on the back. "There, there. That’s terrible. Terrible. When did you find out?"

  Robyn stepped back and brushed away her tears. "Tonight. I caught him in his room with another woman."

  Veronica frowned. "Really? Maybe you misinterpreted what you saw."

  "No. They were both nearly naked."

  "Mmm, I see what you mean."

  Robyn’s crying slackened and her legs grew heavy. She slumped onto the couch.

  Veronica sat beside her and took her hand. "God, men are so stupid, aren’t they? Did you recognize the woman?"

  "Yes. Her name’s Patricia Lenehan. It seems they’ve been bonking for a long time. He said they’re just friends and weren’t serious."

  "You think that’s true?"

  Robyn shrugged. "Probably. But so what? I don’t care why they were shagging. I’m finished with him. I won’t take him back. Never."

  Veronica frowned. "You sure about that? I mean, I know he did cheat - which is wrong, of course. But we all make mistakes and he’s still got a lot to offer. Don’t burn all your bridges."

  Typical of Veronica to adopt such a cold-blooded attitude. Robyn shook her head. "No, it's over, totally."

  "But maybe, after a while, you’ll calm down?"

  "No chance."

  Veronica shrugged. "Fair enough. You want a cup of tea?"

  "No. I’ll go to bed, if that’s OK? But thanks for your support."

  "Don’t mention it. And if you want that cup of tea, let me know."

  Robyn rose and headed, unsteadily, for the door.

  Veronica said: "Hey, I know something that might cheer you up."

  Robyn turned. "What?"

  "The Shy
Boys are coming to town. Three gigs next month."

  The Shy Boys were Robyn’s favourite band. From New York, they played a musical brew called hillbilly punk. She’d seen them the last two times they toured Australia.

  "That’s good news. But who’m I supposed to go with?"

  "Oh, don’t worry, you’ll find someone," Veronica said with little conviction.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Brian Davis woke the next morning in the grip of two novel emotions: guilt and remorse. He hadn’t cried since he was a kid, but almost did now.

  God. What had happened to him? He usually didn’t care about losing a woman. He’d dumped and been dumped many times without giving a shit. But Robyn was the most exciting woman he’d dated and, having passed forty, he finally wanted to settle down and have kids.

  He felt a huge tug of self-pity. Jesus. He’d cheated on plenty of women and got away with it. So why now, when he really cared about one, did he get caught? So unfair. In a way, he was a victim of his attractiveness. Women like Patricia kept throwing themselves at him. So what was he supposed to do? Say no? What sane man would do that?

  He spent his days representing murderers, rapists and drug dealers. Compared with their crimes, cheating on Robyn was a tiny moral lapse. Yet she’d treated it like a major criminal offence.

  However, there was no point bemoaning his bad luck. He had to decide his next move.

  A loud inner voice told him to forget about Robyn and move on. She’d never take him back. Why subject himself to more pain and embarrassment?

  But a shrill heckler in the back of his head yelled that he should, at least, try to win her back. He wouldn’t offer any excuses: just accept his guilt, apologise and ask for clemency.

  Brian’s natural optimism reasserted itself. Robyn was angry right now. That was understandable. But she was too smart to dump him permanently. He had too much to offer. She’d eventually forgive him.

  Even so, maybe he should back off for a while and let her cool down. No. The sooner he put his charm to work - showed her what she was losing - the better. So when he got to work, he dropped his briefcase on his desk and caught a lift up to Fisher Chambers. If he announced his presence, she might refuse to see him. So he ignored the receptionist and headed for her room, nerves jangling worse than before his first murder trial.

  Her door was open. His doubts returned. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to talk to her. After a long hesitation, he stepped through the doorway, half hoping she wouldn’t be there. But she was, at her desk, reading a law report. Shit. His throat went dry.

  He coughed and shuffled towards her desk. "Umm, hi."

  She looked up and scowled. "You! What the hell do you want?"

  He expected a frosty reception, but not her gorgon expression; he talked quickly, like a salesman through a screen door. "Umm, I want to chat? I think we need to sort some things out."

  She glowered and spat out her words. "There’s nothing to sort out. Just leave me alone, OK. Get out, you cheating bastard."

  "Can’t we talk like adults?"

  "No, because you’re just a pathetic child."

  He spread his arms imploringly. "Look, I’m sorry about what happened. I really am. What I did was, well, wrong." Boy, that sounded weak. Maybe he should have thought more about what he was going to say. "No, no, unforgivable. But, believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. I really have."

  She leaned forward, still scowling. "Really? And so have I. I’ve learnt you’re a lousy cheating piece of shit. I’ll despise you until my dying day. Got that? Or do you want it in writing?"

  Hell. She definitely hadn’t calmed down since last night. Shit. Maybe she really wouldn’t take him back; maybe this approach was a huge mistake.

  "But Robyn …"

  She leaned forward. "In fact, if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll report you to the Bar Association."

  That shocked him. "Report me? For what?"

  "Sexual harassment."

  A shiver ran through his body. These days that was like being accused of murder or paedophilia. A definite career-wrecker. "You’re kidding?"

  "No. And believe me, if I do, you’ll be stuffed. The Ethics Committee will hang you out to dry. They’d love to nail a top silk for sexual harassment and look noble."

  Shit. Surely she was joking. "You’d do that to me?"

  "You bet. So leave me alone."

  He’d vowed not to get angry, no matter what. But he hadn’t expected such rudeness. Despite the offence he had caused, she should remember he was a silk and show him some respect. He considered telling her that, but sensed she would not understand. "You’re not being fair, you know. You should be grateful I got you the brief in the Markham matter."

  Her forehead buckled. "Listen, you miserable bastard. The only reason you got me that brief was because you wanted to sleep with me. And now you’re pissed off because your shabby little plan has backfired. You’re pathetic - truly pathetic."

  Brian realized he’d charged headlong into a cul de sac. He tried to back out. "I think we’re getting off track. Please just forgive me for what I did. I beg you. I mean, I made a mistake."

  She rose to her feet and screamed. "It was more than just a mistake, you fucking egomaniac. You cheated on me. Comprendre? So get out and leave me alone."

  If she owned a gun he’d obviously be dead right now. His natural optimism dried up. She wouldn’t take him back - not in this life anyway. The damage was irreparable. He showed his palms. "OK. OK. I’ll leave you alone."

  "Great."

  He wanted to say something dramatic and noble before leaving, but nothing suitable crossed his mind. "Well, ah, goodbye."

  He strode out the door, shoulders square to prove he was bloodied but unbowed. Yet his guts were churning. He’d never received such a savage emotional kicking. Finding love and losing it was fucking hard on the nerves. He vowed to never fall in love again.

  But what if he couldn’t honour that vow? What if, having sampled love, he was now addicted and would keep searching for another fix? A voice deep inside him said he wasn’t an addict. But it didn't sound very confident.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  As Brian departed, Robyn was incandescent with rage. The sleazy bastard had demanded that she be grateful to him. Jesus.

  She never wanted to see him again. Never. Nobody cheated on her and got away with it, particularly a repeat offender like him. He wasn’t the right man for her and never would be. Lucky she found out now.

  That night she slept surprisingly well and, the next morning, riding a train to work, felt strong enough to convene a Royal Commission into her love life. What lessons had she learnt from this latest debacle?

  The most obvious was that she kept going out with the wrong sort of guy. She seemed attracted to brash, ambitious types incapable of real commitment. Maybe she should stop dating good-looking bastards and find someone less exciting, but solid and dependable. Seemed worth a try.

  However, unfortunately, dependable types usually got snapped up fast and stayed off the market. The only man who sprung to mind was Gary Monaghan who, Silvia claimed, was keen on her. He was smart, polite, good-natured and very dull. But right now his dullness was a plus. And maybe there was more to him than met the eye. Surely there had to be.

  However, assessing Gary was pointless, because it was much too early to dive back into a relationship. She needed to lick her wounds for a while.

  When she reached Fisher Chambers, she saw that Silvia’s door was open. She stepped through it and found Silvia on the phone, talking in a low growl. "Listen Ted, I sent you my bill almost six months ago and I still haven’t been paid …Yeah? Well, we’ve all got financial problems and, quite frankly, I rank mine a lot higher than yours … Yeah, well, if I don’t get paid in the next few weeks I’ll sue you … Oh, yes, I will."

  Silvia slammed down the phone and saw Robyn. "Oh, hi."

  "Cripes. That sounded pretty heavy."

  Silvia waved dismissively. "Oh, that? Just doin
g some debt-collecting. Sometimes you’ve got to yell at solicitors or you never get paid."

  "Aren’t you worried he won’t brief you again?"

  "If he won’t pay me, I don’t want his briefs." Silvia leaned back. "What’s happening?"

  "I’ve got some bad news."

  "What?"

  Robyn dropped onto the chair facing Silvia. "I’ve broken up with Brian."

  Silvia’s eyes widened and she leaned forward. "Hell. That was quick. What happened?"

  Robyn desperately wanted to unburden herself to her good buddy, Silvia. "I found him in a compromising position with another woman." Why the circumlocutions?

  Silvia frowned. "Really?"

  "Yeah. They were both in his room, almost naked."

  "Shit," Silvia snickered.

  Robyn glared at her. "It’s not funny."

  "True. But what did you expect? That’s who he is, I’m afraid."

  "I thought he’d change; he said he'd change."

  "Ha. After he dies, he'll rise from the grave to chase women."

  "You did try to warn me."

  "Yep." Silvia’s tough features softened. "But we live and learn. How’re you coping?"

  "Still a bit shell-shocked. But I’ll be alright. In fact, I can see a silver lining to all this. He obviously wasn’t right for me, so it’s good we broke up before I got in too deep."

  "Yeah. Lucky you saw his black heart before marriage and kids." Silvia reached into her bottom drawer. "Anyway, let’s have a drink to drown your sorrows."

  Christ, it was still breakfast time. Silvia really had a problem.

  "Oh, no, not right now. Too early. I’ve got work to do."

  Silvia straightened up, without a bottle. "Fair enough. Drop back in after work. We’ll get plastered and bitch about men."

  "OK. You know, next time, I think I’ll go out with someone plain and boring."

  "Sounds like a good idea."

  For some reason, Gary popped into her head again. "Maybe someone like Gary Monaghan."

  A rueful smile. "Oh, so you’re interested in him now, are you?"