by Clare Revell
“Then push it,” Patrick said bluntly. “Wait a minute. You guys still sleep in separate rooms?”
Jared nodded. “Yes, we—”
Niamh cut him off. “We are until the wedding.” She moved into the kitchen, sitting on Jared’s lap and sliding an arm around his neck. “Hey, you.”
Jared hugged her tightly. “Patrick told me about your day.”
“Horrible. Majorly horrible. How was your day?”
“Oh, full of adoring little old ladies on zimmer frames and kids all wanting to be firefighters.”
She nestled against him. “How many of the kids called you Sam?”
“Most of them.” He kissed her cheek. “You sure you’re all right, baby?”
“Now you’re here,” she whispered, closing her eyes, humming Fireman Sam quietly to herself.
Jared held her, listening to her breathing slow. He looked at Patrick.
“She’s been dozing on and off since she came home. That doctor’s appointment is a good idea. What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I’ve got the morning off to take her.” He slid a hand through her hair. “It’s not like her to be sick. Even when she was pregnant with Dayna, she wasn’t sick at all. She was the envy of every woman in the ante-natal class. I’m hoping it’s just stress and nothing more serious.”
“Want to pray about it?”
“Please.”
Patrick sat beside him. Placing one hand on Jared and the other on his sister, he started to pray, handing the entire situation into the Lord’s hands.
****
Niamh came out of the ladies and crossed the doctor’s waiting room. She slumped back onto her seat between Jared and Patrick. “They didn’t call me, did they?”
“No.” Jared frowned, concern plastered all over him. “Look, maybe we ask for a home visit instead.”
“No, I’m here now.”
“Here in spirit perhaps,” he muttered. “You’ve spent more time in the loo than here in the waiting room with us.”
“On the floor next to the loo, not in it,” Niamh corrected.
He snorted. “You had to do that, didn’t you?”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, because you were expecting it, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”
“Love you back.” She paused. “And your front and your side and…” She broke off as the buzzer sounded. Her name flashed up on the screen. “That’s me.”
“Want me to come with you?”
Niamh shook her head. “I’m a big girl now. I won’t be long.”
“But—”
“No buts. You and Patrick can sit and talk while I’m gone.” She stood and headed through the door to the consulting rooms. She read the numbers on the doors and knocked on the one labeled six.
“Come in.”
Niamh opened the door and smiled. “Hello.”
Dr. Brown smiled at her. “Hello, Niamh. How are you doing?”
“Not great.” Niamh sat down and put her bag on the floor.
“You don’t look so good. How can I help?”
“I’m assuming its stomach flu, but it’s been going on for two weeks. I’m tired all the time, can’t keep anything down and my sense of smell is so heightened it’s untrue.”
“I see.” Dr. Brown reached out and took Niamh’s pulse. “How’s work going?”
“Stressful. Can’t say much, but yeah, lots and lots of stress.” She rolled up her sleeve and took a deep breath as the doctor did her blood pressure. “I haven’t eaten or drunk anything I’m allergic too. At least, I don’t think I have as Jared’s pretty good at stopping me.”
“Your blood pressure is up slightly, but if you’re stressed that would explain it. Let me run some blood tests. When was your last period?”
Niamh shrugged, wincing as the needle went into her arm. “Things haven’t been right since the car crash. Surgery, stuff going on at work, and I couldn’t tell you when the one before the car crash was.”
“Is there any chance you’re pregnant?”
Niamh shook her head. “No. I’m not married. Well, I am, but we’re not, we’re not sleeping together. And according to Jared, I wasn’t sick the last time.”
“OK. The blood tests should come back in about a week. I’ll ring you if there’s anything to be concerned about.”
“In the meantime what do I do? I can’t work like this, and I’m in the middle of a really big case.”
The doctor wrote a prescription. “This should help with the nausea. Rest as much as you can.”
Niamh took it and stood. “I will. Thanks.” She went back into the waiting room, stifling a smile as both men almost leapt from their seats. She waved the prescription. “He gave me something to help with the sickness, and I have to rest as much as I can.”
“But what’s wrong?” Jared asked.
“He’s running tests. Find out end of next week. Let’s go find a chemist.”
“I’ll buy you a coffee while we wait for it,” Jared said.
Niamh swallowed hard. “I thought I was the one with the dodgy memory. I don’t drink coffee anymore. Thanks anyway, but I’m due at work.”
Jared nodded, sliding a hand into hers. His skin was warm and her nerve endings started tingling.
Outside a fine rain began to fall and she leaned into him as they walked. Patrick walked in front and the two other officers behind her.
“Niamh, when’s your interview?” Jared asked.
“For the judgeship?”
Jared nodded.
“I decided not to go for it. I don’t know half of what I should any more, and I’m happy where I am. Well, most of the time.”
“Are you sure? You were so keen to start with and so happy when you got selected.”
“I’m sure.” Niamh looked at him. “Sides, I don’t think I’m cut out to make decisions like they have to every day. Can we go now? I have a pile of stuff to do at the office. Then I have a meeting at four.”
“I’ll take you,” Patrick said.
“I’m coming with,” Jared said at the same time.
“Actually neither of you,” she said firmly. “The two cops behind me are coming. You two are food shopping and cooking tonight. And don’t argue with me. I’m a lawyer so way better at it than either of you.”
****
Four o’clock on the dot, the CPS driver dropped her at the door of the haberdashery. The bell tinkled as Niamh opened the door.
Cassie beamed at her from behind the counter. “Hey, glad you made it. Can you manage alone for a bit, Danny?”
Danny grinned. “You’re hardly here anymore, and we’re not exactly busy. I’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, bro. Come out the back, Niamh. Danny will keep watch in case Jared or one of your brothers decides to drop by.”
Niamh followed Cassie into the small storeroom at the back of the shop.
Cassie reached up, pulling back the curtain revealing a dress cover. She unzipped it. “There you go.”
“Wow,” Niamh whispered. Tears stung her eyes. She’d never seen anything like that. Completely overwhelmed she just stood there.
Based on the shift dress Jared had said would do fine, Cassie had added sleeves and a slight train at the back. Understated beading lay around the square neck and around the high waist.
“Is it all right?” Cassie asked after a few minutes.
“It’s beautiful,” Niamh whispered. “It’s even prettier than it looks on paper.”
“Would you like to try it on?”
“Can I?”
“Of course.”
She took off her dress and let Cassie slide the dress over her head. She stood in front of the mirror as Cassie fastened it. “Wow.”
She turned first one way and then the other. The dress was a perfect fit, but given Cassie’s apparent expertise in this, she wasn’t surprised. “What do you think? Will Jarrie like it?”
“I’m biased. Do you want Danny’s opinion?”
“OK.”
Cassie smiled and stuck her head around the door. “Danny, we need a bloke’s opinion.”
“Nah, Jack’s just walked in. He’ll be better than me.”
Niamh shook her head. “He’s marrying us, so he can’t see it either.”
Cassie smiled at her. “Nope, she wants yours.”
After a moment, Danny’s head appeared around the door. His eyes widened and a huge smile lit his face. “That is amazing. Niamh, you look fantastic.”
“You think he’ll like it?”
“Yeah, I do. You look beautiful. He’ll be stoked. “
Niamh stood there while Cassie added a headdress and veil. “That’s incredible,” she whispered. “It’s much better than I imagined.”
Cassie smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it, thank you.” She changed out of it and let Cassie hang it back in the bag. “What do I owe you?”
“Just what we agreed at the beginning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And I promise, not a word to Jared. Do you want to leave it here while you go shoe shopping?”
Niamh shook her head. “I’ve got my footwear sorted,” she said.
Once she got home, she hung the dress in the wardrobe hiding it right at the back. The boxes containing veil and headdress went under the bed. She shut the door and by the time Jared got home, she sat innocently watching the TV.
Jared leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed her. “Hey, hon. How was your meeting?”
“OK. How was the shopping?”
“Busy.” He flopped beside her. “Patrick’s unpacking it now. Did you find anything to wear yet?”
Niamh leaned against him. “I don’t want to talk wedding dresses anymore. I found something to wear. Something old, new, borrowed and blue.”
“Fair enough.” He ran his fingers through her hair, sending ripples running through her. “Old blue jeans, Liam’s shirt and new socks?”
Niamh smiled. “Got it in one.”
“OK. I thought I might wear my uniform, the dress blues. If that’s all right with you?”
She nodded. “You can wear what you like, hon. It’s your wedding, too.” She saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes and for a moment was tempted to tell him the truth. “But you know what I think about men in uniform.”
He grinned. “You always did have a thing for them. Blue uniform it is. With the hat.”
She kissed his cheek. “Or just the white shirt and the hat.”
He looked at her, his eyes sparkling.
“What did I say?” she asked.
“The honeymoon,” he winked. “That’s what you asked me to wear.”
She closed her eyes, a sudden flash of memory hitting her. She grinned as she looked at him. “But I bet I look better in it than you do.”
His lips caught hers. “Definitely.”
19
Niamh walked down the halls with Toby, their footsteps echoing in the high vaulted chambers of the Crown Court. “Can we do that?”
“Alan seems to thinks so.”
“But if the judge rules it as inadmissible, then where does it leave us?”
“We’ve still got enough on DNA evidence alone.”
“So why risk using the note at all? Surely proving he was paid to do this is only going to play into the defense’s hands?”
“Not if we do it right. It makes him a coldblooded killer. Not a heat of the moment thing.”
Niamh tucked her hair behind her ears. “Killing someone like this could hardly be described as an impulse murder.”
“Exactly. If you were told to take someone out what’s the easiest way?”
“I don’t know.” She shifted the files in her arms. “Bullet between the eyes, or run them over.” Or cut their brake line perhaps.
“And if you were told to do this to someone?”
Niamh stopped and lowered her voice. “What if they then turn around and say he didn’t have a choice? That Acre had something on him or he’d kill his wife or kids or dog if he didn’t comply?”
“Then why didn’t he come to us? Niamh, think about it. They’ve got to you, they got to your files, and they got to your witnesses all throughout the Acre trial. And now the same things are happening again. Not so much the files since we moved your office to the goldfish bowl, but…”
“Other stuff,” Niamh finished.
Toby held her gaze. “The notes are the same. Same writing, same pen. Just don’t bring the ones you’ve received into the equation. Just mention the one Mrs. Luckett got.”
“All right.”
He smiled and held open the courtroom door for her. “Then let’s go bag us another bad guy.”
Twenty minutes into the pre-trial evidence, Niamh got exactly the reaction she was expecting.
Miles Kingsman rose to his feet. “Objection, My Lord. We all get letters through the post. The fact Mrs. Luckett did isn’t at all relevant to this case.”
“Mrs. Harkin?” Judge Matheson peered at her over the top of his glasses.
“It is very relevant, My Lord. If this letter can prove that Mr. Jankowski received instructions from a convicted criminal to murder Mrs. Luckett, then it is very relevant indeed.”
Miles sneered at her. “If you can prove he was on the take? Is that really the best you can come up with?”
She shot him back a withering glare of her own. “My starter for ten.”
“I’ll allow it for now. Go on, Mrs. Harkin. Present your evidence.”
Niamh nodded. She glanced up at the public gallery, making sure Patrick was there. The judge was playing his part to perfection. All she needed to do was play hers and soon this whole thing would be over. One slip up and it would be her neck on the line rather than that of the guilty party.
She picked up the file and opened it. “Mrs. Luckett was the primary witness in the case of Jonathan Acre. My Lord will remember the case from a couple of months back. She’d originally agreed to testify, and then changed her mind. Mrs. Luckett was concerned for her safety and with good reason. I managed to persuade her to give evidence. As soon as she appeared in court, Mr. Acre changed his plea to guilty. On her way out of court, Mrs. Luckett gave me a note, a death threat.”
Miles was on his feet again. “And just when did this snippet of information come your way? Begging Your Honor’s pardon, but my learned friend was in a very nasty car crash and doesn’t remember the case to which she keeps referring. Hence the case-file on the desk in front of her.”
“Mr. Kingsman, could you remember every single detail of every case you’ve worked on over the last say six months?” Judge Matheson asked.
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t. You would brush up on your notes, refer to documents, just as you are doing right now. Just as every lawyer I have ever come across does during every single case to ensure the defendant gets a fair trial. Please continue, Mrs. Harkin.”
Niamh pulled the letter from the file. “Exhibit A, My Lord. A letter given to Mrs. Luckett stating that if she gave evidence against Mr. Acre, she would die.” She handed the letter in its protective covering to the court official. He in turn handed it to Judge Matheson. Niamh continued speaking. “A murder we know was carried out by Mr. Jankowski.”
Judge Matheson glanced over the letter.
“That proves nothing,” Miles objected.
“It proves your client knows the defendant in the trial Mrs. Luckett testified in,” Niamh responded quickly.
“I’ll allow it.”
“Thank you, My Lord.” Niamh glanced across at the defense bench, in time to see Miles sit and write something on the file in front of him. Her breathing caught, and her stomach twisted at the sight of the slanted letters, and the calligraphy pen.
It can’t be. Even though the evidence was mounting and was past the point of suspicion, to suddenly see the same handwriting appearing in front of her
, worried and disappointed her.
Miles raised his head and met her gaze. His smirk sent shivers of terror down her spine. He stood and started speaking.
Niamh gripped the desk in front of her as his voice faded.
She sat at her desk, the letter Gina Luckett had received in her hand. The slant was exactly the same. Precise penmanship, care taken to ensure every single letter was perfect. If only she could remember where she’d seen it before. And it wasn’t the ones addressed to her either.
A slow knock on the door frame brought her back to reality. She glanced up to see Toby Croft standing there watching her. “Hey, Toby.”
“Problems?” He uncurled his long frame and moved towards her.
Niamh smiled and shoved the letter into a file, closing it. “No. Just checking through a couple of things before filing this.”
“Congratulations on winning the Acre case this morning. One really bad guy off the streets.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, this came through for you. Depositions from Miles Kingsman’s next client. I’m beginning to think he only chooses your cases. Either that or he likes losing.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me.” She opened the file. Miles’s perfect copperplate handwriting adorned the page. Slanted, black, calligraphy. An exact match for the death threats in the file on her desk.
Every nerve in her body tightened. She straightened, sucking in a deep breath as if it were her last. Everything made sense now.
“Is Alan in?”
“No. Why?”
“I know who’s sending the letters. And I know why.” She gathered her papers. “I’ll go lock these away and see him first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
“—and I’m sure you’ll agree that would be a grave miscarriage of justice,” Miles concluded.
Niamh raised her eyes to Patrick, bile rising in her throat. Toby knew as much as she did before the car crash. She picked up the glass of water and sipped it before replacing it on the other side of her files. A sign that she needed a break. Fortunately, the judge was paying attention.
“Mr. Kingsman, do you have anything more to add?”