Maureen then used a rubber band to secure the bundles of notes and placed them in their respective money bags. She then put the money in a white bag and placed it in her handbag. She wished me a good night and left. It was 5 pm exactly. I recall the time as there were no customers left in the store. The store closes at 5 pm.
I was in the stockroom for about the next half an hour and did not hear Maureen’s attack. Had I been at the front desk or out on the floor I might have heard something but it’s unlikely given that the attack occurred in the car park and I was in the stockroom until I left . . .
‘He can’t be lying, like Bernie says he is,’ I said to Amit. ‘Why would somebody who’s lying give that kind of detail?’
‘Because they’re lying? The bigger the lie, the better the details.’
‘But you can easily check on that kind of detail. Casey just needs to find out what gym Maureen joined and whether there was a Body Pump class that night. If there was, then he’s telling the truth. How is he supposed to know those kinds of details unless she told him?’
‘I guess you’re right. Okay, so she’s partly to blame. That seems really evil. Partially blaming her for getting murdered.’
‘Yeah I know. But I don’t think she’s being blamed for getting murdered. I think they mean that she helped put herself into that kind of dangerous situation.’
‘Well I think it sucks. It’s just not fair.’
‘It’s pretty twisted, huh?’
I kept reading.
I locked the store at approximately 5.20 pm. I was tired and decided to continue my work the following day. I went out the front door, on High Street, and caught a bus home. I had no idea about what was going on in the car park.
Webb’s statement ended there. It was pretty convincing. I couldn’t see how Bernie would be able to beat it. I kept on looking through the file. It was then that I noticed a letter with that day’s date filed in the front of the correspondence section of the file. The letter was from Rodney’s solicitor, Jeff Humphries, to Casey.
Dear Ms Williams,
Please find enclosed by way of service a copy of contemporaneous original notes of WorkSafe meetings that took place on 21 May 2008 and 18 June 2008. The notes, which are contained in JSW’s WorkSafe Minutes of Meetings notebook, were inadvertently omitted from the bundle of discovery served on you in August.
Yours sincerely,
Jeff Humphries.
I scanned the notes and was surprised to find that they were seriously bad news for Jenkins Storage World.
• Complaint about water on tiles in staff toilet. Floors are too slippery. Investigate whether tiles can be treated or need replacement.
• Complaint also made about hot water being too hot. Check thermostat.
• Question: Should we hire security guards re transfer of money?
The June meeting notes went on about the dangers associated with transferring money as well.
• WorkCover requires us to implement its cash-in-transit guidelines. We need to look into this urgently to avoid audit or incidents.
• Hiring of security guards still has not been investigated. Attend to this task urgently. Also consider whether cash transit between stores should be done by one staff member or in pairs. But this would be expensive, extra time equals extra wages. Cheaper alternative?
Didn’t all of this prove that Jenkins Storage World knew about the dangers but that they didn’t get their shit together and do something about it? I thought about Maureen again and felt bad. She didn’t have to die. As angry as I was with Bernie for not being the person I thought he was, I felt even more sympathy for him now. Or maybe I didn’t. I just felt angrier with Rodney and Jenkins Storage World for knowing what they needed to do to make it safe to transport cash but being too lazy to actually do it. Bernie was right. They were pigs! They should pay. And to hell with Webb’s statement.
Now I understood Bernie’s fury about the contributory negligence defence. Who cared if Maureen refused Webb’s offer? She should never have had to make that decision about how to transport the cash. Security guards should have been there.
I wondered why Humphries had served something that made his client look bad.
‘Because he’s an idiot,’ Amit offered.
‘Yeah, there’s that, but there must be another reason. I need to ask Dad.’
Well aware that I rarely give my dad the satisfaction of asking him questions about law, Amit raised his eyebrows.
Dad was in the study, reading.
‘Hey, Dad?’
Without lifting his eyes from the page, he said, ‘Noah, you would not believe the audacity of the defendant’s submissions. They actually believe their title to the property has priority over all other encumbrances. Twisting the equitable doctrine of indefeasibility of title! The arrogance!’
‘That’s fascinating,’ I said. ‘Dad, Amit’s reading a John Grisham book,’ I began, before he had time to launch into a lecture.
‘Grisham? Insolent man! Popularising law for the masses who are willing to feed off his commercialisation of the most sacred institution of society – and all for the sake of profits.’
I recognised a potential meltdown here and quickly cut him off.
‘Actually, Dad, Amit’s finding some parts of the book interesting and since you’re a lawyer, he has a question.’
Dad cleared his throat. I knew he’d tried murderers and fraudsters and had one of the most sophisticated bullshit detectors humankind had ever known. Although I was a pretty good bullshit artist, I had to admit it was difficult to outsmart him. But we understood each other, which meant that I could continue this ridiculous act and he wouldn’t confront me. Of course, I could always tell him that working at Aunt Nirvine’s firm had got me interested in a case but there would have been a higher probability of Casey winning the Best Personality award at the Logies.
‘He’s wondering why a defendant would give a plaintiff documents that make the defendant look bad?’
‘Simple,’ he said, leaning back in his black leather chair. ‘The process of discovery requires parties to exchange documents relevant to the case, whether those documents incriminate the party or not, and even after discovery orders have expired. If a party fails to discover documents, even the most damaging ones, they are in contempt of court orders. So they have an obligation, notwithstanding the potentially damaging impact it may have on their case.’
I maintained a neutral expression although my brain was working overtime. Even if Jenkins Storage World had until the end of the case to give up its documents there was still something suspicious about the way these documents suddenly appeared. Or was I blowing things out of proportion just to keep myself from dying of boredom while photocopying another brief?
When I returned to my room Amit challenged me to a game on the Xbox. For the next couple of hours Bernie and Jenkins Storage World were banished from my mind.
The last day of the year started with an argument with my dad.
‘Why can’t you back down just once?’ I yelled. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve!’
Dad calmly placed his mug on the table. ‘Eve being the operative word. There is no reason why you should have to skip work today. You can still celebrate tonight.’
‘Everybody I know is going to set up a spot close to the Harbour Bridge and Opera House. Meanwhile I’ll be stuck like a nerd in a photocopying dungeon!’
He took a sip of coffee. His face didn’t even twitch. He was as composed and stubborn as ever. I would have bet that barristers up against him in court would have struggled not to clobber him with a folder.
‘Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences of your appalling behaviour at school this past year. Letting the mouse loose in the library. Hacking into the principal’s email account and sending a fake email to the staff offering them a pupil-free curriculum day. Changing the exam timetables. I could go on and on. Perhaps if you had amended your behaviour you would have enjoyed the final day of the year in better style.’
‘This is the last holiday I have before my final year! You’re being sadistic.’
‘I’ve cross-examined my fair share of sadistic psychopaths. Trust me when I tell you that I don’t come close to meeting the criteria.’
‘The criteria is open to interpretation and as far as I’m concerned you are being a sadist.’
Dad smiled and I wanted to scream. ‘The theory of moral relativity has no place in this particular argument, Noah. You accrued more detentions in the past year than a student can be expected to accrue over the course of their entire high school education. We’ve already gone through this. You’re serving your sentence now and I’m the judge, jury and parole board and there’s no light at the end of this tunnel until you’ve proven yourself.’
‘Why don’t you lead a coup in some South American country and become a dictator?! You’ve got all the qualifications.’
‘I quite like my job here, thank you very much. It’s far more intellectually stimulating than running a totalitarian regime.’
‘Oh really? I could have sworn that’s what you were doing here!’
I couldn’t believe he was smiling again.
‘You’re not skipping work today.’ He stood up, took a final sip of his coffee and walked to the door. ‘Welcome to the adult world of action and consequences, Noah. I’ll see you tonight.’
Needless to say I arrived at work in a bad mood.
‘Bernie will be here in fifteen minutes,’ Casey told me as she passed me in the corridor. ‘I need you to take notes.’
I ignored her assumption that I was free (I was; I’d spent the morning hiding in the spare office pretending to be busy with filing when I’d really been on the email with Amit complaining about my dad) and grabbed a notebook.
When Bernie arrived, Casey ushered him into the conference room. I joined them and when Bernie saw me he rushed over and shook my hand enthusiastically.
‘How are you, mate?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘It’s good to see ya again.’
‘How are you?’ I asked tersely. ‘Coping okay?’
Bernie took a seat, oblivious to my tone. ‘Mate, it’s terrible. The nights are a real struggle, ya know what I’m saying? That’s when I miss her the most. The worst part is that I’m gonna have to sell the house. I can’t afford the repayments.’
‘We’ll bring that up if you testify,’ Casey said. ‘It will be strong evidence of your financial hardship.’
I couldn’t stand this crap any longer. Before I could stop myself I blurted out: ‘I saw you.’
Bernie gave me a funny look. ‘Huh?’
‘I saw you at Darling Harbour with Rodney Marks. You were talking at a café.’
‘Excuse me?’ Casey cut in.
Bernie’s face flushed red. He paused, looking down at his hands. Then he looked up and said in an angry tone, ‘So what? I made plans to meet the guy away from the lawyers. No offence, but you mob complicate everything. I wanted to size the guy up myself. Talk to him one on one. We’ve never had that chance with you lot breathing down our necks with your legal talk.’
‘You met Rodney Marks without me? Without consulting me?’
‘I wanted to see what he thought about the insurer’s defence. He didn’t seem too happy with all that blaming Maureen nonsense.’
‘Bernie, are you completely mad?’ Casey jumped up out of her seat and paced the conference room. ‘Plaintiffs and defendants don’t go out to cafés to discuss the case. If you want to represent yourself, fine, I’ll back out now, but I won’t have a client running around behind my back sabotaging my efforts to win his case!’
Bernie looked flustered. ‘I still want you on this case. I didn’t realise talking to Marks alone would be such a drama.’
‘What did you discuss? Tell me everything.’
‘It was a really short meeting. Fifteen minutes tops. Basically I wanted to see what he thought about Webb’s statement. He’s worried the case is getting bogged down and legal fees are climbing. That’s why he admitted things early on, to get this case settled and move on. But with the insurer chucking a spanner in the works, there’s no chance this is gonna end quickly and cheaply.’
Casey rolled her eyes and moved to the window, standing with her back to us. ‘I’ve applied to the court to list the matter for an earlier directions hearing,’ she said. ‘It’s been listed next week.’
‘Why?’ Bernie asked.
Casey turned around. ‘For a new timetable regarding the service of lay evidence in reply.’
‘What’s that mean?’ Bernie said. He sounded frustrated.
‘Witness evidence. I don’t know if we can get a statement to refute Webb’s, but we should be given a chance to try. Can you think of anybody we can call who is able to contradict Webb’s claim that he offered to walk Maureen to her car?’
‘How the hell would I know who to call? I wasn’t there. I didn’t work with her. The only person who knows what really happened is Maureen. And she can’t bloody well come back from the grave to testify.’
‘Well I recommend that we still get a new timetable, just in case something arises. At the very least, we can scare the other side into thinking we might have a witness to challenge Webb’s testimony.’
‘Fine,’ Bernie said with a dismissive wave of the hand. ‘So much for this being a simple case.’
‘I should think meeting up with the other side has done more to complicate matters than anything else.’
‘Thanks for snitching,’ Bernie whispered to me with a sneer.
For a moment, I felt bad. But I didn’t see it as snitching. I was doing him a favour. ‘If you want to win,’ I said, ‘you’ve got to be totally upfront.’
‘Mate, why don’t you go read a comic book and leave this stuff to the adults?’
I was about to snap back with a comment about his girlfriend, but something stopped me. I decided to keep that card up my sleeve. Before I could come up with a good retort, Casey started rambling on about her strategy, advising Bernie to settle, taking into account the risk that Webb’s evidence would be accepted. Bernie flipped out.
‘You’ll be able to tear him apart in the witness box. They need to know we think that statement is crap. Even Rodney admitted that to me off the record. I don’t wanna go to trial but I’m not gonna settle for a lesser amount than we first talked about! It’s me wife’s body rotting in the cemetery. Her life wasn’t cheap.’
‘Yes, yes, I understand, Bernie,’ Casey said in an unsympathetic tone, ‘but litigation is never predictable. Things come up and it’s a balancing exercise between the risk you will lose and the chance you will win. There is a possibility a judge will accept Webb’s evidence, so you need to consider that.’
‘No. I refuse to accept it. Let’s go to trial then. I’m willing to get in the stand. Hell, even Marks has accepted they stuffed up. This Webb guy is probably being paid off by the insurer. Yeah! That’s the only explanation for it. He just suddenly shows up with this statement against Maureen, just when the insurer is looking for ways to bring this case down.’
‘Bernie, I’m not interested in conspiracy theories.’
‘He has a point,’ I interrupted.
Casey glared at me and Bernie looked up, surprised by my support.
‘Well, those safety meeting notes also appeared suddenly,’ I continued. ‘Don’t you think that’s a little strange? I mean—’ I flipped through the first volume in the correspondence files and pulled out a letter I had tagged, ‘discovery was supposed to have been completed five months ago according to this letter.’
Casey stared at me with narrowed eyes. ‘If you had a law degree – I’d settle for a higher school certificate – you would know that discovery is an ongoing obligation. We don’t need a high school student jumping on the conspiracy theory bandwagon.’
I was so worked up about my theory that I ignored the insult. ‘But why did those notes suddenly appear right after they sent us Webb’s statement? There’s something fishy about the whol
e—’
‘Noah, step out of the office NOW. I need a word.’
I strode out of the office, Casey on my heels.
‘How DARE you!’ she yelled, as we stood face to face in the corridor. ‘Don’t you EVER interfere in my case like that again. Addressing my client! Putting ideas in his head! Who do you think you are? Just because your father is Queen’s Counsel does not make you a lawyer!’
‘This has nothing to do with my dad,’ I said, my face turning red. ‘I saw Bernie. He has a girlfriend. So much for his grief-stricken act. And then there’s his meeting with Rodney Marks. And these notes that suddenly appear. Doesn’t it seem weird?’
Casey drew in a sharp breath. ‘Have you been spying on my client?’
‘I just happened to see him in my mum’s neighbourhood.’
She leaned closer to me, fixing me with a deadly stare. ‘You’re off this case, Noah. Go back to photocopying and ordering the wrong coffee.’
She spun on her heels and stormed back into the office.
‘These people are idiots,’ I muttered, slamming the door to the photocopying room behind me.
Jacinta stopped what she was doing. ‘What are you on about?’
I filled her in. She was quiet for a few moments.
‘It’s all a little strange, I admit,’ she said. ‘But there could be perfectly reasonable explanations for everything that’s happened. Don’t you think you’re being a bit melodramatic?’
‘Explain the girlfriend,’ I demanded.
‘Obviously Bernie has to play the part of the grieving widower. Maybe he’s found true love sooner than you’d expect. But so what? It happens. He might just be too ashamed to admit it to you all because you’ll judge him as a gold-digger. He could genuinely still love and miss his wife and mourn her loss. He’s just lucky enough to have fallen in love again.’
In an act of maturity, I stuck my finger down my mouth and pretended to gag.
She chuckled. ‘Hey, it’s a reasonable theory.’
‘Look, this guy is a liar. I just know it.’
Noah's Law Page 8