by Anne Emery
“I did.”
“Good news for you guys, eh?”
“Well, we’ll talk about that. I assume you were waiting for me.”
“The girl said you were out for lunch.”
“The girl?”
“The one at the desk.”
“The receptionist.”
“Yeah, right. Who’s this?” He turned his attention to Brennan, who was dressed in a shirt and sports jacket. “Has Beau got a whole team of lawyers?”
“This is Father Burke. Corbett Reeves.”
They shook hands. Burke’s black eyes bored into the pale eyes of the young man. Reeves tried to pull his hand away but Burke had it in his grasp. They stood there for several seconds. Burke finally released the newcomer, never taking his gaze off him. Without turning to me, Burke said: “Call me if you need me for anything, Monty.”
When the priest had gone, Reeves said: “Let’s go in your office and get down to business.”
“Very well.”
He followed me inside, and we went up in the elevator to the offices of Stratton Sommers. Reeves plunked himself down in my client chair, and crossed his legs. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one up, and said: “Okay if I smoke?”
“No.”
He shrugged, wet the thumb and finger of his left hand and used them to extinguish the burning tip of the cigarette. He didn’t flinch. He blew the ash on the floor, and put the cigarettes away.
“I’m pretty famous around here today, right?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you have to say?”
“What’s Beau saying his alibi was that night?” He spoke lazily and his face was set in an expression of nonchalance, but I noticed that his left leg, crossed over the right, was jiggling non-stop.
“Never mind what my client told me. Let me hear your story.”
“I can get him off.”
I wasn’t going to bite on that. “Why wait so long to come forward?”
“I’ve been out of town.”
“Where?”
His face took on a cagey look, and he didn’t reply. A state secret, it must have been.
“And you’ve returned with the idea of testifying for Mr. Delaney?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Go on.”
“Me and Beau go way back. Maybe he didn’t tell you about it.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to admit he needs me.”
“Needs you how?”
The boy leaned forward. The shaking leg banged against my desk. “His life is in my hands!”
“Corbett, either tell me your story, or let me get on with my work.”
“You want the facts? I’ve got the facts. Put me on the stand!”
Corbett obviously had a limited understanding of what a defence lawyer wanted in a trial. Sometimes the facts were not on the wish list at all, or anywhere near it.
“Listen to me, Corbett. I’m not going to call you to testify.”
“What? Are you crazy? He needs me! He fucking needs me to get him off!”
“No, he doesn’t.” The last thing Delaney needed was this kid with his delusions that I would put him on the witness stand without knowing what his testimony would be. I suspected that if I knew what he was going to say, I’d have him kidnapped and bundled out of the country till the trial was over. I didn’t know what he was up to, but he wasn’t going to play out his drama on my time, in my trial, to the detriment of my client. “It’s not going to happen, Corbett.”
“Fuck you! I’m going in there!” Reeves erupted out of his seat and stood over me, trembling. His pale face had turned red with anger. “You can’t stop me, you fucking asshole!”
“I can, and I will. Now sit down and get yourself under control here. Where are you staying? I’ll drop you off —”
He came behind my desk and lunged at me, grabbing me around the throat. I bolted up, gripped his hands, and wrenched them off me. He tried to butt me with his head, and I wrestled him to the floor. I held him down with my hands on his shoulders. He raised his right foot to kick me, and I twisted out of reach.
“You get yourself under control right now, Corbett, or I’ll have you arrested. Got that? Now are you going to behave yourself if I let you up?”
“Let me go, for fuck’s sake. I want to get out of here! You’re some useless lawyer. I wouldn’t get you to defend me!”
“Just as well, considering that I’m the victim of your little outburst here. Now get up and get lost. And don’t let me see you around here or at the courthouse.”
I stepped back, and he stumbled towards the door, then ran away.
Brennan called me later that day to see what Reeves had to say. I filled him in, and said I was glad to see the back of the kid.
“That makes two of us. I looked into that young fellow’s eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw there. Or what I didn’t see.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something missing in him. It gave me a chill just looking at him and touching his hand.”
(Normie)
The mystery of the missing brother was solved without me figuring it out. Corbett was back, and he was even on TV. He said he knew Mr. Delaney didn’t do the killing because he was with him, Corbett with Mr. Delaney, that night. Wow! That was good news. Daddy was so happy about it, he gave Mummy a big hug. I drew a picture of them in my diary, smooching in front of the TV! And I couldn’t wait to see Jenny and Laurence. On the Friday before the holiday weekend, we were all going to the Commons for a Gaelic football game between our school and St. Kevin’s. Me and Jenny and Laurence and Kim were going to watch it together. So I would get a chance to ask about Corbett. The mysterious Corbett.
Kim and I were the first ones there, so we got to sit on the front bench to watch the game. We kind of spread out and saved room for Jenny and Laurence without looking like we were doing it.
It was really cool seeing our team in their uniforms. They are green and white with a little bit of gold on them, and a picture of a golden harp. So our team is called the Harps because of the picture. Father Burke got them sent over from Ireland, and also got the St. Kevin’s uniforms for them. Their colours are white and blue with no picture. They decided on the name “St. Ks.” Our team was all lined up on the field, so Monsignor O’Flaherty could take a picture of them. Everybody looked great except Richard Robertson. He had a big, lumpy, ugly brown sweater over his uniform. His mother made him wear it so he wouldn’t catch a chill. But it wasn’t even cold out. There was his mum gawking at the team and looking mad. Father Burke saw her, and then he went over to Monsignor and talked to him.
Monsignor said: “Good heavens, Father. I think I’m out of film here. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Go ahead and get warmed up.” So he left and went to his car.
Mrs. Robertson growled at Richard: “Richard. The time is three forty-five. I’ll be back here at five o’clock on the dot, and I’ll expect you to be ready to leave for Monsieur” — that’s his French tutor — “at that time. Be careful. If you fall ill, or if you so much as injure your little finger, as a result of this escapade, we’ll have to call a family meeting to rethink our decision to let you play.” She turned to leave, and gave Father Burke some kind of a look, which I couldn’t see. He just looked back at her, and went over and started talking to the team. As soon as Richard’s mum was out of sight, Richard took the sweater off. That’s when Monsignor O’Flaherty came back with the camera. He must have put film in it. Or maybe him and Father Burke made up the thing about the film, so Richard could be in the picture and not look like a dork.
The players for both sides had to warm up first, by running around and practising. I kept turning around and looking for Jenny and Laurence, but they weren’t there. Other people wanted to squeeze onto the bench w
ith me and Kim and some other kids, so I didn’t know how much longer we could save the seats. One little guy sat down beside us. He had dark curly hair and glasses and he was really cute. I thought I recognized him as being the little brother of one of the guys at school, Asher. I’m glad we made room for him. But then I finally saw Jenny and Laurence. And it wasn’t just them. Corbett was there too. He looked smaller than he did on TV, but it was him. I waved, and they came over.
“We saved your spots, but there may not be room now,” I told them.
“There’s room,” Corbett said. He had a weird voice, kind of high and painful. Or at least it sounded as if it was painful to talk. He sat down practically on top of Asher’s little brother, and ended up knocking him off the bench.
Jenny said we should find places at the back, but Corbett told her not to worry about it, just sit down. The little boy who fell off gave Corbett a dirty look and tried to get back on, but Corbett wouldn’t let him. He said: “Get out of my way, Joo-boy.” I don’t know why he called him that, but it sounded mean. Then Corbett didn’t pay any more attention to him, so he went and sat behind us.
“This is Corbett and that’s Normie,” Jenny said.
“Hi, Corbett.”
He kind of made a noise but didn’t really say hi.
“Normie’s dad is Mr. Collins, Dad’s lawyer for the trial.”
Then he turned sideways on the bench and looked at me. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell him I want to be in the trial.”
“Uh, how come? Was it what you said on TV? That you know Mr. Delaney didn’t do it?”
“Something like that. I want to get up there and tell the judge where Beau really was that night. He can thank me later.”
“Well, that sounds good. Right, Jenny? He should be up there on the witness stand, telling the truth.”
“Yeah. That’s what I should do,” Corbett said and then he gave this creepy laugh that sounded like his voice, painful.
Father Burke’s head whipped around, and he looked right at us. Right at Corbett. He glared at him for a good long time, before he turned back to the team, and told them the game was going to start.
The game was really exciting even if this was our first season for Gaelic football and the players were just learning, and dropping the ball a lot. But maybe they were supposed to. There were a bunch of rules saying what you could do with the ball and what you couldn’t. You could pick it up with your foot somehow and boot it into your hands, but then you had to do other things with it; you couldn’t just keep hold of it and go. There were two referees and they had to run up and down the field after the players. I remember Father Burke saying there was supposed to be a whole bunch of referees and other guys in charge of the game, but he could only find two. It was a great big deal when our guys, the Harps, made a goal. But then the St. Ks tied it up with a goal of their own. All the kids on the benches were cheering and whistling and clapping, except for Corbett. He must have thought the game wasn’t very good. It was weird; every once in while, Father Burke would look over at Corbett and fix him with a fierce look in his eyes. He probably thought Corbett was a stranger.
It was really fun having this new team to cheer for. We have basketball and volleyball, and I’m going to play on the volleyball team next year. But this was our only outdoor sport, and it was fun to watch it on a bright, sunny day. Even more fun when the Harps got another goal and won the match. I turned to Corbett to say: “See, we’re good!” But he was gone. I never even heard him leave.
Chapter 14
(Monty)
The courtroom was packed with reporters and spectators when Beau Delaney took the stand on Tuesday after the long weekend in May. He had cut his hair shorter, or slightly so, and wore a grey business suit with a soft blue shirt, and a blue and grey striped tie. His demeanour was humble as he stood and swore on the Bible that he would tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
I hovered over my notes at the defence table for a few seconds before we began, to make sure everything was in place for my carefully worked out direct examination of my client. With only an hour or two of leeway on the night of Peggy’s death, I wanted to bring out the evidence very precisely as to Beau’s whereabouts, his exact arrival time home, the weather he encountered on the drive, and the length of time between his discovery of Peggy and his call for the ambulance.
Beau had a present for me, just before he got up to testify. He dropped a piece of paper on the defence table. I picked it up and squinted at it. He couldn’t miss the surprise on my face. “They don’t call me a showboat for nothing!” he said, before he walked to the stand. It was a receipt for a fill-up at a gas station on the highway outside Halifax. It showed that, when the calendar turned over from January 15 to 16, 1992, Beau was still on the road. The time said twelve-fourteen a.m. I clutched it in my hand like a holy relic as I began questioning my client about the night of his wife’s death.
I asked him a few warm-up questions to get the jury familiar with him. He was calm and collected, mild and unassuming, as he told the court a little bit about his life with Peggy. He had been living with another woman, but that relationship foundered on the question of children. After going along for years without any desire for children, Beau began to have a change of heart: he wanted kids after all, and wanted them badly. His girlfriend did not. Things had been going downhill for a while anyway. So that was that. As for Peggy, she had been married to someone else. Children were a factor in the failure of that relationship as well, but in a much more tragic way. She and her husband had had a baby boy, Jonathan, who died of sudden infant death syndrome, known as crib death. The marriage could not survive the couple’s grief and loss.
“So after ending one relationship with a woman who didn’t want kids, I now fell in love with another who felt the same way, although for polar-opposite reasons. Peggy thought that if she had another baby, she would be guilty of trying to replace Jonathan. If she could feel joy with another child, that might mean she had forgotten him, or put him behind her. The thought of that was unbearable to her. Of course that’s not what happens. Each and every child is irreplaceable. By giving another child life, and giving a child a home, by giving herself to another child, how could that take anything away from Jonathan, or her love for Jonathan? Anyone who has more than one child knows what I mean: loving the next one doesn’t detract from the love of the one before. I should know — I have ten! Anyway, Peggy came around, and we were married, and we had Sarah the next year, and Derek came to us the year after that, and then Peggy gave birth to Connor, and then we got Ruth, and on it goes.
“Peggy and I were made for each other. We loved each other, we loved our children. Life was complicated at times, but life was sweet.”
I was vaguely aware of the courtroom door opening behind me, as someone made a noisy entrance and apparently clambered over other spectators to secure a seat. Delaney didn’t notice the commotion, so intent was he on telling the jury about his wife.
“Peggy was a social worker by profession and, not surprisingly, she did most of her work with children. By the time we had three kids in our own house, she quit her job to stay home with the family, but she still volunteered with kids, and became an advocate for children in trouble with the law. Understandably, given what had happened in her own life, and what she saw every day in her work, she tended to be a worrier! She knew about the mishaps and misfortunes and tragedies that could befall children at any minute, but she also knew enough to back off and not be overprotective even when she desperately wanted to. She had a finely tuned sense of humour, and could laugh at her own inclinations in this respect.”
“He didn’t kill, and I can prove it!” The strained, reedy voice of Corbett Reeves had everyone’s attention.
I whirled around and looked at him, sitting forward in his seat and peering intently at his sometime foster father on the
stand. I turned back to Delaney, who gave me a quick half shake of his head. Get the kid out of here, was the unmistakeable message. We were of one mind on that; I had no idea what the pale, strange young boy intended to say. But if Beau didn’t want it said in the courtroom, neither did I.
“My Lord,” I said, getting to my feet. “This is not a defence witness, and I respectfully ask either that he be escorted from the courtroom or that the jury be excused while we discuss the matter.”
Kenneth Palmer wasn’t about to take any chances of the trial tanking at this late stage. He turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would ask that you retire to the jury room for a few minutes. You’ll be called back shortly.”
But Corbett did not want to lose his few minutes of fame. He got up and shouted: “You don’t want them to —”
The sheriff had reached him by then, and told him not to say another word. The judge had the same instruction, backed up by the threat of contempt of court. That kept him quiet until the jurors were out of earshot.
But then he started again. “I want to be part of this trial. I want to get on the witness stand, and —”
Justice Palmer interrupted him in a booming voice: “I do not intend to hear another word from you! Understand? Now, Mr. Collins, what do you have to say about this?”
“My Lord, this person is not a witness. He is not a part of our case. And I would ask that, rather than risk any more outbursts and disruptions of the trial, he be removed from the courtroom, and in fact removed from the premises altogether.”
The judge gave a signal to the sheriff, who quickly hustled Corbett out of the courtroom. His final words were: “Nobody wants to hear the truth!”
Gail Kirk glared daggers at me, as if she thought I would stoop to engineering such a spectacle, or as if she might be able to plant that belief in the judge. But Ken Palmer knew otherwise, which was clear from the sympathetic look he gave me, and that was all that mattered. If I were going to engineer anything, it would have been a lot more clear on the subject of my client’s innocence. Corbett’s demeanour did not inspire any confidence in me that he was truly on Delaney’s side. Beau’s reaction said it all: the kid was bad news.