A Case in Question

by Herb Hamlet

  A Case in Question

  Herb Hamlet

  First published in 2017 by

  House of Romance

  www.houseofromancebooks.com

  Digital edition converted and distributed by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  © Copyright 2017 Herb Hamlet

  The right of Herb Hamlet to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  “You hired a private detective to have me followed?” Keith’s scowl deepened. “Why the hell would you do that, Elaine?”

  “The way you treat me, I suspected there may be someone else, another woman.”

  He brutally gripped her arm. “How dare you! And what did this so-called detective have to say?”

  Elaine swallowed, ignoring the pain from his vice-like grip, and pressed on. She was still shocked to the core. “He said you’re visiting prostitutes where you play out your power fantasies with them.”

  Keith’s temper was close to the surface now. She saw it burning in his eyes. “Why you...if this got out...” He pushed her back onto the divan, towering over her. He raised his hand and slapped her back and forth across the face until she tasted blood. Her senses reeled as she watched him stand back to sneer down at her. She knew he was an egomaniac. The sense of power he held over her, and the hapless individuals forced to confront him in court, were his lifeblood. But she was determined this time. She lifted a hand to her mouth as she rose to her feet.

  “That’s the last time you’ll ever hit me, Keith, you cowardly mongrel.”

  “And what are you going to do about it Elaine, you stupid bitch? You brought this upon yourself, hiring that detective.” He lifted his hand again as if to strike her, then let it drop to his side. “And you’ll never learn to shut your mouth, will you?”

  “You are a senior judge, you sentence wrongdoers. Yet you’ve assaulted me for years.” She stood her ground.

  “I thought I told you to shut the hell up.”

  Her normally soft features set as hard as stone. “I’m leaving you, Keith. After all these years of abuse, I’ve had enough.” Disgust flickered over her face. “To think I once loved you.”

  She watched his teeth clench in rage. “If you ever leave, I’ll track you down and drag you back screaming if I have to. This is no idle threat. I can use the resources of the Queensland Police Department. I am the chief justice of this state, and you know what power that gives me.” His visage turned ice cold. “No one else will ever have you, do you understand? I am the law in Queensland. You have nowhere to go.” He removed his briefcase from the table and strode to the front door. “Remember what I said.”

  Elaine winced at the sound of the door slamming. She’d sworn to leave him on numerous occasions but this time she meant it. Intent on escaping a tyrannical husband obsessed with his own importance, she went upstairs and packed her belongings. A couple of days before, she had made inquiries at a women’s refuge and now called a taxi to take her. He won’t be able to hurt me there.

  ***

  The shelter manager, Sharon, handed Elaine a cup of coffee. “We have a solicitor who volunteers her time. She’ll help you through the divorce. It won’t matter that your husband is a judge. If he makes trouble, we’ll threaten to expose him to the media.”

  The divorce went through easier than Elaine had expected. She never sought maintenance payments. She wanted nothing whatsoever more to do with him. Her twenty year marriage to Keith had been a nightmare. Oh, it had been blissful at the start. The first few years he had been loving, kind and attentive. As his career blossomed, scaling the ladder from solicitor to barrister, and finally a controversial appointment by the State Government to judge, the violence escalated. Her marriage, apart from the first few years, was a sham, and Elaine found it difficult to cope, feeling guilt and shame, even though she could not see what she could have done to make things better. The time had now arrived for her to get on with her life. She had very little savings, thanks to Keith. He’d made sure she was completely dependent on him. She would have to get a job. And I’ll resume my law degree, she vowed to herself.

  With the help of Sharon from the refuge, she moved into a cheap unit. True to his word, Justice K. Slater did track her, and even tried to break down the security door of her apartment. The matter was reported to the police, however, no action was taken.

  ***

  The last day of Henry Flanagan’s five year suspension finally arrived - so long. Reinstated as a member of the Bar at the age of fifty-one, he was once again able to practice law in his own right. With limited resources, he set up his barrister’s practice in a small two room office on the third floor of a run-down inner Brisbane office building. He needed someone to carry out the administrative functions of the practice, so he advertised for a senior legal office assistant. The day after the vacancy closed, he found there were twenty-one applicants. He began wading his way through them, taking notes as he proceeded. I hate this. By the interview date, he’d narrowed it down to four and he called the potential assistants and set up appointments.

  In spite of her claims, Henry was quickly able to determine the first applicant didn’t have sufficient legal experience to carry out the complex duties of the position. The middle-aged woman bluffed her way through the entire interview. The next girl giggled loudly at every question he asked, while the young applicant following seemed too immature, and was poorly groomed. Henry was also less than impressed with the metal stud in her nose. That would make a nice impression on my older clients, he thought. He was ready to tear his hair out. Although a top barrister, he felt out of his depth conducting job interviews. At noon, he heard the expected knock at his door. Probably another waste of bloody time

  He lifted his head and his mouth hung open in genuine surprise. He riveted his eyes on the beautiful, well groomed woman who’d entered his office. In her youth, he thought she must have been a sensational looking woman. In fact, her loveliness still blossomed in the approach of middle age. Of average height, small boned, and extremely graceful, she walked toward his desk. He liked everything about her, her walk, her carriage, the friendly quizzical look she carried in her eyes, sent out a message of intelligence, competence and self-assurance. Her lovely face was a combination of striking features, blended into a wonderfully soft whole; open and guileless; wide alive grey eyes, a small sharply etched nose and full lips set in a warm smile. Her thick honey blonde hair hung below her shoulders, full and casual. She was smartly dressed in a light grey, long-sleeved business jacket , crisp white blouse beneath the jacket and matching knee length skirt. His eyes traveled down her shapely legs to the black high heel pumps. A black leather handbag hung from the crook of her arm, and she carried her matching kid gloves in her hand. The moment he set eyes on her, Henry experienced an instant urge to reach out and touch her. “Elaine Slater?” He almost spluttered as he rose, pointing to a straight backed chair in front of his desk. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m Henry Flanag
an.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Flanagan?” She offered her hand.

  Taking her warm, but firm handshake, Henry felt a charge of electricity surge through him. It shook him to his core. She gracefully positioned herself in the chair, placing her briefcase on the carpeted floor at her feet. “Right,” he stammered, thoroughly flummoxed. Gazing into her eyes, for a long moment, he found himself lost for words, a new experience for him. “I have your application and you appear to have the necessary qualifications for the position.” He cleared his throat. “I assume you’re computer literate and you possess the necessary keyboard skills?”

  “Of course, Mr. Flanagan.” The answer was cool and self-assured.

  “Let’s concentrate on your legal experience first. Fill me in.” He looked up expectantly.

  She took a deep delicate breath. “I studied law at the University of Queensland for almost three years before leaving my course to get married. My ex-husband was a barrister before being appointed to the judiciary.” Bitterness tinged her voice. “So I have considerable experience where the law is concerned.”

  The words almost sent him reeling backward. His eyes narrowed. “You were married to Chief Justice Slater?”

  “Yes.” She looked away guiltily before quietly adding, “I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

  “No, of course not.” He shook his head, still feeling a little awkward. “But I must inform you I intensely dislike Keith Slater. He nearly ruined my career.”

  “Yes, I’m fully aware of your unfortunate disbarment.” Her full lips quivered. “My ex-husband is an ambitious, unscrupulous mongrel who’d stop at nothing to further his career.”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but how long have you been divorced?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Two years.”

  “Any children?”

  “No!” She turned her head so he would not notice the hurt in her eyes. “He didn’t want any.”

  “Oh.” Henry returned to her application. “I see here you’ve been employed until recently.”

  “I was working for an accountant, a really nice man, but he retired, so I had to find another job. He gave me a lovely reference.” Elaine reached for her briefcase

  “Don’t bother, I believe you.” He grinned. “What are your ambitions?”

  “I’ve returned to my law degree.” She exhaled slowly. “In the meantime, I’m looking for a position such as the one you have advertised.”

  “Well, you’ve found one.” Henry rose and leaned across the desk to offer his hand.

  “When do you wish me to start, Mr. Flanagan?” She smiled gratefully, taking his hand in a firm grip, completely unaware of the effect she had on him when their hands met.

  “How about right now? And please, call me Henry” He gave her his most charming smile, the one he usually reserved for jury members.

  “Fine with me, I’ll get settled.” The grey eyes met his and held. “And thanks, Henry.”

  Chapter One

  It had been an exceedingly good year for Jim Rankin’s small dealership, ‘Downs Toyota’. Indeed, sales had reached an all-time high and the vehicle service centre almost always fully booked. Jim even considered an expansion of his operations to a nearby town and had signed a contract with Darling Downs Television for a number of commercials to be shown each week during prime time programs. The success of his motoring business was especially gratifying because he and his wife, Judy, had mortgaged their home to the hilt just to get the company up and running.

  Everything had turned out much better than expected, he thought to himself as he leaned back in his leather swivel chair behind his Australian oak desk. He acknowledged he’d been a little lucky, because the retail motor industry had always been a cut throat one. Judy had given up virtually everything to support him in the pursuit of his dream. And now after all the hard work, their future looked rosy. If their good fortune continued, his wife might be able to vacate her present position as the company’s credit manager and stay home to care for their two teenage children. Jim often felt a little guilty when he thought about Brett and Susan getting off to school alone every day and coming home to an empty house. Saturdays and holidays also demanded their presence at the dealership.

  Jim frowned at the Taxation Office stamp in the left hand corner of the manila envelope that landed on his desk with the rest of the mail. Extracting a headed document, his brow furrowed into a deep frown. Jim’s eyes scrolled down the page and his stomach churned. The letter advised him his firm was to be subjected to an in-depth taxation audit. A shaft of gloom darkened his good spirits. That was all he needed at the moment. He reached for the telephone and dialed his accountant, impatiently drumming his fingers on the surface of the desk.

  “Putting you through now, Mr. Rankin,” the young voice told him.

  The familiar voice came on the line. “Noel Johnson speaking.”

  “Noel, it’s Jim Rankin.” He felt a sudden surge of uneasiness. “I’ve just received a bloody letter from the Department of Taxation. They’re going to conduct an in-depth audit of the firm. Whatever the bloody hell that means.”

  “I see.” His tone wary. “When is it scheduled?”

  “They’ll be here first thing Monday morning. I want you here for it, Noel,” he said firmly.

  “Yes, of course, Jim. I’ll, er, be there at eight.”

  The hesitancy in his accountant’s voice caused a knot to tighten in Jim’s stomach.

  “Everything is okay isn’t it, mate? I mean, there’s nothing for us to worry about, is there?”

  “No, of course not, Jim.” His tone came with a hint of impatience. “Don’t you worry. Everything’ll be fine.”

  “That’s good to hear, Noel.” Jim gave a grim sigh. “I didn’t think there would be any problems. See you first thing Monday morning.” He hung up and allowed himself a small smile. For the first time since receiving the taxation letter, he felt an easing of his nervous tension.

  Picking at his roast beef and vegetables that same evening, he raised the subject with Judy. “What a time to have to undergo a bloody taxation audit. That’ll tie us up for days I suppose. The last thing we need.” He licked his lips. “But Noel said he’ll be there to act as a go between for the firm and the taxation people.” Jim tried to keep his tone light. He didn’t want to worry her. “Things have really picked up since we changed to Noel’s accountancy firm. I just hope and pray he knows what the hell he’s doing.”

  Judy lowered her coffee cup to her saucer and lifted her eyes to give him a reassuring smile. “Of course he does, Jim, darling. Even though he’s only been in town for a couple of years, I know of a number of local firms who are glowing in their praise of Noel and his staff. In fact, his business seems to be going from strength to strength.”

  “Yes, he does appear to be switched on and very capable. I just hope he’s dotted his Is and crossed his Ts where he’s supposed to. You know what these bloody taxation people are like, Jude.” His lip curled. “They’ll hone in on anything they can find, just to suck one extra lousy dollar out of us. The thing is, their penalties are damn harsh and so is the interest they charge if they find any mistakes.” He took a deep breath to calm an inexplicable uneasiness.

  “Don’t worry, love.” She patted his hand. “I’m sure it’s just a storm in a tea cup. It will soon go away. Go on, finish your dinner.”

  Brett, their seventeen year old son, had been busy demolishing his roast dinner, but had been listening to his parents’ conversation. “I hope so dad, I don’t want to have to visit you in jail,” he joked.

  Jim chuckled and lightly punched his son in the shoulder, the tension relieved.

  ***

  On the dot of nine am. the following Monday morning, a Commonwealth vehicle with Z plates drew to a halt in the parking area of Downs Toyota. Three men an
d one woman, all dressed in business suits and carrying dark leather briefcases emerged. They were shown into his private office where Jim offered a friendly welcoming smile and shook hands with the bureaucrats. Noel Johnson stood beside him. “This is our accountant, Noel Johnson.”

  After again shaking hands, the leader of the taxation team raised his eyebrows. “Excellent, Mr. Rankin. Having your accountant here will be of valuable assistance to us.” His eyes met Jim’s. “In spite of him being here though, I must strongly emphasise that this audit concerns you and your company, Downs Toyota, not your accountant, his methods or his practices. After all, it’s you who have signed the relevant documents and claims as being true and accurate. Therefore, it’s you who is directly responsible. You do understand what I am saying?”

  Jim swallowed his nervousness. “Yes, of course.” He hesitated. “What do you want to see first?”

  “Every document relating to your taxation claim, of course.” The eyes of the only female in the room narrowed.

  Jim turned to his accountant. “You know where everything is, Noel. Will you show them?”

  Johnson turned away apparently unable to meet the intensity of Jim Rankin’s gaze. “Follow me, please. Mrs. Rankin is in charge of the small office team here at Down’s Toyota. She has the necessary documentation in her filing cabinet.”

  After Johnson led the team from his office, Jim slumped into his chair. What a mob of arrogant arseholes For the next harrowing four days, he went about his business as if the taxation auditors weren’t there, going out of his way to give them a wide berth. He’d given instructions to his staff they should be fully cooperative where the audit was concerned. From time to time, one of the inspectors would appear at his office door to ask a question or two relating to a specific part of the business that Noel Johnson was not conversant with.

  On the morning of the fifth day, the four taxation inspectors gathered outside his door, indicating their job was finished. Jim beckoned them inside - his nerves frayed. “Take a seat.” He pointed to straight-backed armchairs in front of his desk.