Tug Of Law (Bernadette Mackenna Cases Book 4)

by D. R. Bailey

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes, pretty much.”

  “So, they are relying on a single witness statement?”

  “Well, yes, but the statement makes a strong case in their view, I suppose.”

  “Is there any mention of the sexual relationship between them?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good because we can spring it as a surprise. We need to insist their witness is brought to court for cross examination.”

  “OK, sounds good.”

  “Then we should try to establish from the refugees where they were put onboard the truck. If their testimony is good, we can maybe get them to testify or get sworn affidavits,” Bernadette continued thinking it through.

  “Right, but they may not have seen Callum even so.”

  “No, but knowing they were put on in Ireland places a different emphasis on it. We could argue if it goes against us the crime should be prosecuted in Ireland and not the UK, thus avoiding extradition either way.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “But that’s a backstop. We need to somehow prove Callum wasn’t involved.”

  “OK, but how?”

  Bernadette and Imogen spent a moment drinking their coffee and pondering this point. It wasn’t easy at all, since there was nothing concrete to prove he did not do it barring his word. His word against a witness. Bernadette knew the aim of the British police was to get him to the UK. They had to have the stated intention to charge and prosecute him, which they were certainly going to do. However, they would also try to break him down and gain a confession to ease the passage of prosecution. Getting a confession was all too easy sometimes if enough pressure can be applied.

  “If there is a way we can establish for certain the time he picked up the truck and then establish a timeline for the illegals getting put on it, then we can argue the link is tenuous or the probability is he didn’t know about it.”

  “They will counter argue even if he didn’t help to load it, he still knew,” Imogen said, playing devil’s advocate.

  “OK, true, but that is harder to prove, and when it comes down to their word against his, then his will more likely win. He’s an Irish citizen and extraditions are not done lightly.”

  Bernadette liked Imogen to challenge her, this was one of the good things about having a junior. She would put Bernadette on the spot, and it was better to be made to think it through in the office than when they got to court. In court, there was not too much time to ponder. A lawyer had to think on their feet and quickly. Things often came in from left field and had to be rebutted almost off the cuff.

  “We need to talk to Callum then to get more details,” Imogen pointed out.

  “Yes, after we get back from London, so next week.”

  “And do we still want to meet with Mason?”

  This was a point of contention, however, the practice of lawyers meeting the opposition lawyers outside of the courtroom was very common. Bernadette was well aware many ‘deals’ had been made in this fashion in order to avoid the chance of a negative verdict. However, she was not a fan. She was a fan of the truth and not of making a deal. She also didn’t approve of fraternising with the enemy as such. It smacked of disloyalty to her client. Her job was, however, to get the best result and sometimes talking to the opposition was prudent if nothing else it gained a better understanding of their intentions.

  “Yes, know thy enemy, make it a lunch date, somewhere very posh where he will find it hard to refuse. No lawyer refuses a free lunch, particularly if it’s an expensive one.”

  “OK,” Imogen laughed, “I will remember it for future reference.”

  “Believe me it’s true. There are certain QC’s who pride themselves on their extravagance and leading a top-drawer lifestyle. They make a good deal of money and they don’t hesitate to flaunt it.”

  “Not you though, you are far more modest.”

  “Yes, I am it’s true, although I try to dress the part, but I don’t need several pairs of Louboutin’s and Gucci handbags to do so,” Bernadette said earnestly.

  “I wouldn’t mind at least one pair though.”

  “I’m sure D’Arcy will buy them for you, if you mention it in passing.” Bernadette grinned.

  “I know,” Imogen sighed, “I just don’t want to take advantage. She always wants to buy me things.”

  “Listen to me, you are going to be married soon. So technically you will be assuming her lifestyle as her wife. Which means what’s hers is technically yours too and you should try to have less scruples about enjoying her wealth with her. I mean, unless she has mentioned a prenup, of course, has she?”

  “Well no,” Imogen said looking worried, “Should we…”

  “No!” said Bernadette firmly, “No such thing, go into it wholeheartedly or not at all. It’s not as if she has a whole bunch of family. I mean, she does but she’s not on terms with them. If anything, she should be protecting you. You should also help her draft a will once you are married.”

  “Really, gosh? Isn’t that presumptuous?”

  “No, it’s not, out of the two of you, you are the one who should be protected and if you won’t mention it to her, I will!”

  Imogen could see the martial light in Bernadette’s eye, and she knew Bernadette must feel very strongly about it. Bernadette certainly did, she wanted her friend looked after in the event of something happening to D’Arcy.

  “Would you? I… I would say I can, but I know I’ll chicken out,” Imogen said gratefully.

  “You are funny. You can spank her, but you can’t talk to her about making a will.”

  “I know, it’s lame, but…”

  “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” Bernadette smiled.

  “I know you have, darling and I’ll always have yours.”

  “Except where you were going to work for Shane,” Bernadette teased.

  “Oh don’t! You have no idea how bad I feel about it. I mean, if it’s still an issue I’ll gladly go over your knee and we can settle it that way…”

  “No! Don’t I’m teasing, don’t take me so seriously. And really, Imogen, that’s not the way to solve all your problems,” Bernadette laughed.

  “It’s one way.” Imogen pouted. “It works for me and D’Arcy.”

  “For you and D’Arcy, yes,” said Bernadette with emphasis.

  Imogen laughed at this. She reached out and took Bernadette’s hand affectionately.

  “God, I love you, so much, have I told you that?”

  “Yes, many times, and I love you too, and you know that.”

  Bernadette squeezed her friend’s hand and held on to it.

  “Is there anything else we need to do while in London?” Imogen asked.

  “Unless we can interview the prosecution witness or we find someone else we can talk to, then I doubt it.”

  “What about the investigating officer in the Met?”

  “I doubt the Met are going to want to talk to us, they want a result for them. Talking to the defence counsel is not going to be in their interests.”

  “I suppose you are right, anyway, it’s probably enough for two days to get interviews with those refugees and lunch with the lawyer.”

  “So, will you make the arrangements?”

  “Yes, we will pick you and Eve, up tomorrow morning from your house. Leave everything to me. D’Arcy has sorted it and I’ve spoken to Andrew about charging the client a nominal sum for expenses on a per diem basis.”

  “Are we reimbursing D’Arcy with that?” Bernadette asked curiously.

  “Well…” Imogen hesitated.

  “Offer it to D’Arcy, if she chooses not to take it then.” Bernadette shrugged. “Anyway, we will incur some expenses for taxis and the lunch and so on, and we need to be reimbursed for those.”

  “OK, sure.” Imogen looked relieved.

  D’Arcy wouldn’t take the money, Bernadette knew, and she was past t
he point of trying to argue with her friend’s fiancée. D’Arcy did as D’Arcy wanted. They had all learned that from close association. The only person able to reign her in, in the slightest, was Imogen. The best thing was to simply lay back and enjoy the ride, Bernadette mused philosophically. In any case she knew D’Arcy could well afford all of the extravagances she indulged in and so didn’t feel bad about it.

  “Are you taking your paddle?” Bernadette asked with a smile playing on her lips.

  “Of course, if nothing else as a reminder for D’Arcy to behave herself.”

  “And what exactly constitutes behaving?”

  “Oh well, anything I don’t approve of, obviously. Things we’ve discussed she’s not to do…”

  “Like?”

  “Like going out on lunch dates and not telling me about them, flirting outrageously with people, or sometimes just because she just wants to be spanked… stuff like that.”

  Bernadette laughed. “I’m actually impressed how you’ve been curbing your jealousy though.”

  “It’s been very difficult, believe me. But I am learning to temper myself, more.”

  “Keep it up, darling.”

  “I’m doing my best. We actually have a good life together. We certainly have a very good sex life too,” Imogen said with a smile.

  “Why don’t you let your house go then, or rent it out or something?”

  “I’ve discussed it with D’Arcy and that’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to rent it out because it’s an asset for us.”

  “Good, very good.”

  “Anyway, sweetness, I’ve got to get on with all these arrangements.”

  “Sure, you carry on, I’ll catch up on some other cases meanwhile.”

  Imogen gathered up the papers, and the empty cups. She leaned over, gave her friend a peck on the lips and left the room.

  Bernadette watched her go. Their bond had become so strong, it was now unbreakable. There had been a moment when she thought Imogen was going to leave and work for Shane Wilson, and her heart had almost broken in two. She sometimes wondered if she had not met Eve, and Imogen had not met D’Arcy whether she and Imogen would have made a couple. It was destined to be a question which was never answered. It was probably just as well, Bernadette mused, considering her friend’s deeper and kinkier sexual desires. Bernadette wasn’t sure she was up to getting her backside regularly tanned with a leather paddle, in fact, she was fairly sure she wouldn’t be. It certainly wasn’t a rabbit hole she wanted to go down. Shibari was a bridge she had crossed for Eve, but how much further she would go, was an interesting question.

  Chapter Six

  On Tuesday morning, they had to rise earlier than usual, since D’Arcy’s car was calling for them at seven a.m. Bernadette usually did not leave for work until around eight or eight thirty which gave them more time in bed. Even then if Eve was extra frisky, she had been late when she didn’t have court. However, they got up on time, showered and got dressed.

  “I’m so excited,” said Eve over breakfast, “This is like our first holiday together outside of Ireland, well really Dublin.”

  “A working holiday, darling.” Bernadette smiled.

  “I know, but still.”

  Eve had dressed comfortably for travelling in a pink cotton lined skirt, matching blouse with collar, and black jacket, with pink flip-flops. Bernadette was more formal with a black skirt, white blouse, black jacket and black mules. Eve had packed a selection of clothes and shoes for both of them in two medium suitcases. Bernadette smiled when she saw them, but Eve said there were clothes for work and for going out in, plus nightwear, cosmetics, and other things she said were necessary items. Bernadette did not demur. She had not had to do anything, and she was happy.

  Eve had made them a cheese and mushroom omelette for breakfast, with toast and coffee. She said they needed to be set up for the day.

  “You’re so good, darling, I should hire you as my PA, we are going to be getting another one soon at work,” Bernadette joked consuming a mouthful of her omelette with relish.

  “I am already your PA, your dresser, your make-up artist, your cook, your housekeeper…” Eve said with a laugh.

  “Oh God, when you put it like that, it sounds like I do nothing. Shit, I mean…” said Bernadette a little abashed by this list of things Eve did for them.

  “Don’t look so worried, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to, I’m quite domesticated you know and I’m an artist, and you keep us very well.”

  “Are you sure?” Bernadette at once was chagrined feeling she had been imposing on her fiancée all this time.

  “I’m teasing silly. I like to nurture and look after you. I told you from the start. It’s how I love you, well… partly, you know the other parts.”

  “Don’t think I don’t appreciate everything you do. Perhaps I’m not saying it enough, I’m sorry.”

  “Stop it. You take things too much to heart, my darling. I do all this for us, so that when you come home I have you all to myself and it’s all I want really.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what about you? Things for you?”

  “I’ve got my art, it’s what I’ve always wanted to do, and I’ve got that. I can be a woman of leisure if I wish. I’m earning money too, for us. You love your work. I wouldn’t have it any different. I love what I do.”

  “Well, good. I don’t want you to think I take you for granted.”

  “You don’t, and if you did, I would tell you, and you would be up in the bedroom with your hands on the wall in no time,” Eve laughed.

  Bernadette smiled and reflected that Eve, in a way, was the one who called the shots. So, she wasn’t at all hard done by. She got exactly what she wanted when she wanted it, and Bernadette knew it and she loved her for it. Eve had domesticated her and tamed her. She had wrapped Bernadette around her little finger. Perhaps it was what she needed all along.

  “You are a witch!” Bernadette said severely.

  “And you love it, now finish your breakfast.”

  “Yes, miss,” Bernadette giggled, addressing herself to the food.

  After they finished, they loaded the dishwasher, and sat down to wait. In a short while, the doorbell rang. It was D’Arcy. She was almost jumping up and down with excitement when Bernadette opened the door.

  “Oh, this is such fun,” she said launching herself into Bernadette’s arms and planting a big kiss on her lips.

  “Hello, D’Arcy,” Bernadette laughed, and watched her repeat the performance with Eve.

  “Come on, girls, let’s get on,” said Imogen standing just outside and smiling at her fiancée’s antics.

  D’Arcy was wearing a short leather mini skirt, crisp white top and a white leather jacket which all look very expensive, and were probably designer labels, along with black strappy heels. Imogen had a black skirt on with a black jacket and white shirt, rather like Bernadette, and black court heels.

  Eve and Bernadette grabbed the bags, set the alarm system, and locked the front door. Carragh was waiting at the car and he took their bags to stow in the boot.

  Bernadette and Eve got into D’Arcy’s black Hyundai Santa Fe 4WD Premium Plus which had seven seats. They sat in the rear seats. Imogen and Darcy sat in the middle ones. D’Arcy had a black Mercedes S class which she mostly used but when there were four of them there wasn’t the room.

  “Ready?” said Carragh from the driver’s seat.

  “Yes, let’s go!” trilled D’Arcy.

  There was a second bodyguard in the passenger seat who was going to drive the car back to D’Arcy’s house. Carragh would accompany D’Arcy everywhere she went in London for personal protection.

  “Are we all ready for our adventure?” said D’Arcy as the car pulled away.

  “I’m looking forward to it for sure,” Eve told her.

  “We are going to have such fun, while these two are working.”

&n
bsp; “I hope so.”

  “I know so, I’ve got it all planned out.”

  D’Arcy chattered on in her usual fashion as they drove out towards Dublin airport. It was a short fifteen-minute drive and when they arrived, instead of being dropped off as Bernadette expected, the car drove through a special gate onto the tarmac.

  “Aren’t we going to…” Bernadette began.

  “No, we’re not going on a scheduled flight,” said D’Arcy.

  The car stopped close to the steps of a small jet.

  “What?” Bernadette exclaimed.

  “I hired us a private jet.” D’Arcy’s face was a picture of delight.

  “Goodness!” Eve squealed, “How amazing!”

  Bernadette looked from Eve to D’Arcy and thought again how Eve starting to sound in many ways like D’Arcy. She smiled to herself at this. A transformation was happening that was certain.

  “Don’t we have to go through immigration, stuff like that?” Bernadette wondered.

  “No, it’s taken care of as it’s a flight to the UK, we don’t really need the passports, but we’ve got them as ID,” said Imogen.

  “Well…”

  The white Hawker 900XP jet sparkled in the sun as they boarded. The interior was surprisingly spacious with cream leather plush seating facing each other and a table in between. Along one side at the back was also a sofa style seating arrangement. There was a small galley and a toilet at the back.

  “Welcome aboard,” said a pretty looking young female attendant who was waiting to see them onto the plane along with her male counterpart, “Please take a seat where you’d like, and we’ll serve you some refreshments shortly.”

  “Wow,” Eve exclaimed, “I’ve never been on a private jet before.”

  “Me neither,” said Bernadette as they took seats opposite each other and strapped in.

  “Nor me.” Imogen smiled as she took a seat herself.

  “Enjoy, darlings, enjoy,” D’Arcy said putting on her seatbelt.

  Carragh stowed the baggage and took a seat behind them all at the back. The attendants closed the doors and the plane began to taxi down the runway.