by D. B. Martin
Win accosted me with fists curled and face like rolling thunder clouds, setting my teeth on edge – mainly because he was right.
‘You bloody shafted me instead!’
The exultant bubble created by the dismissal burst. Ella watched and listened avidly and I wondered if her instructions from Heather were to assist, or to monitor my behaviour, for preference. She seemed to be equally happy to do either. Or was that being paranoid? I didn’t risk finding out. I stepped between her and Win and ushered Win away, hoping Ella hadn’t heard what he’d said, and also uncomfortably aware of the approaching hordes of colleagues and press all keen to share in the intriguing developments. Kat’s face floated amongst them. Trouble seemed to have a way of multiplying, even whilst I was trying to subdivide it.
‘I got Danny off the hook and we still have the car to hold over Jaggers. Don’t push it,’ I hissed as I shielded us from the oncoming clamour with my back. I could feel Ella’s eyes on me and imagined the intensity of her expression as she strained to hear our conversation.
‘Don’t push it? And what about the rest of it?’
‘This isn’t the time or place to discuss it.’ Win showed no sign of backing off, face belligerent and sweaty in the heat of the courtroom. ‘Win, I can only deal with one thing at a time. Danny was my first priority – and not being buried so far under a ton of shite I’d never find my way out again. If we’d done it the way you wanted us to I’d potentially have another murder charge on my hands. This way I’ve bought us time. Now let’s think about what we do with that time – after the funeral. I’ll ring you – OK?’
Win gave me a look which told me it had better be sooner than later and slunk away just in time for me to intercept Kat, bursting through the crowd with her delighted, ‘See, I told you truth always wins.’
‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet, have we?’ I’d almost forgotten Ella whilst I concentrated on Win. She was looking hostilely at Kat and Kat was looking curiously back.
‘Miss Roumelia – Miss Julien, my new junior.’ I tried to signal to Kat that it hadn’t been out of choice and to say nothing incriminating but facial expression wasn’t one of my strong points. Too many years in court. ‘Miss Roumelia is Danny’s case worker, Ella,’ I added pointedly.
‘Oh, yes. The social worker.’ The ice in her voice could have frozen an erupting volcano. ‘I’ve heard all about you too.’ I couldn’t help my eyebrows rising at that. From Heather, no doubt, but that didn’t explain the chill. She’d encouraged the relationship with Kat, albeit with discretion. We faced each other in an uneasy triangle. Great. I didn’t want anyone else to latch on to the relationship with Kat’s now, any more than I wanted them to notice Win’s hostility – there was already enough controversy in the open to be going on with – but nor could I openly explain the constraints to Kat with so many others within earshot. ‘You’ll be relieved it’s all over and that you don’t need to devote so much time to being at Mr Juste’s beck and call then.’ Ella said it with a smile but I could read the undertone as well as Kat. We were both being warned off. I tried to defrost the ice with détente until I could talk to Kat privately.
‘I’m sure we’re all relieved it’s over, and with such a good result for Danny. Truth was a good place to both start and finish, Miss Roumelia,’ I replied cordially. She hesitated and looked momentarily offended until comprehension spread across her face.
‘Indeed, it is – and we always knew Danny was telling the truth, didn’t we?’ She shook my hand in a business-like fashion and then fixed on Ella.
I could sense how high Kat’s hackles had already risen in response to the blue-eyed china doll in assassin’s black hovering next to me in the guise of assistant, but for all the world she remained the polite professional. Shit. I hadn’t even thought about Ella being a looker – let alone a meddler – just an encumbrance I could do without. Now it was obvious even to me, the man with his eyes shut most of the time, that Kat must be assuming Ella was going to follow in Margaret’s footsteps – perhaps even at my invitation. The junior turned wife. Jesus – how she couldn’t see the last thing I wanted was a repeat performance of being manipulated and married off to a mercenary co-worker, I didn’t know, but no doubt to her it explained both my inclination to keep her at a distance and Ella’s confrontational possessiveness. I’d worked out at least that much about the convoluted female mind; never take something at face value if it could be construed as having more complex intentions.
Kat nodded coolly at Ella, who moved proprietorially closer. ‘Well, as you say, my time can be spent on other things now so I’ll go and see my charge, and arrange to get him back home to his family. Perhaps you can bring me up to date with the formalities when you have some time to yourself?’
‘Of course,’ I hoped Kat would get the unspoken message that there was nothing to worry about in my over-eager smile. Ella blew that out of the water.
‘Lawrence has some important things to attend right now, so I’ll be in touch on his behalf in due course, if necessary.’ That was taking things too far. I rallied, but it was already too late.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry – your wife’s funeral, of course.’ Kat backed away, face frozen, and I knew that far from tricky, life was about to get downright bloody if I didn’t rein Ella in – but for all that I did have a funeral to arrange. I’d used it as the excuse to side-step responsibility, confrontation or anything else I’d wanted to avoid so many times, it had become a platitude, yet now it was actually true. Like I’d said to Win, I needed thinking time. Not necessarily as far as Kat was concerned, but Kat was inextricably linked to Danny, and Danny to familial responsibility, Win and commitment. Them I did need thinking time for. Ella was providing that for me as effectively as reminding Win about the funeral had fended him off. I took the coward’s way out whilst I examined the problems and worked out whether my skill at neatly boxing things needed reinstating after all.
Ella hovered as I shook hands and exchanged niceties with my colleagues and simultaneously tried to see where Kat or Win had gone. Slight as she was, Ella made the barrier between them and me absolute, merely because of her presence. Professional distance. Useful at times. Kat seemed to have melted away into the crowd, presumably to oversee Danny’s repatriation with Kimmy and the man for the moment purporting to be his father.
Around me the wall of noise, congratulation, discussion and question made my head spin. The stuffy heat didn’t help, but slowly we seemed to be making progress, wading towards the doors and freedom. The sun filtered through into the foyer of the courts but it no longer seemed to be offering me illumination as it had before I entered, merely an uncomfortable place in the spotlight. Ella led the way like a tiny porcelain-faced effigy, too perfect to be importuned, too determined to be denied. The similarity to Heather was amusing but frightening. Maybe it was deference to her size and fragility that beat us our pathway through. Sometimes the most unexpected of things turn out temporarily to be an asset.
As we exited I noticed Win was still hovering toward the back of the crowds, like a fat crow waiting to peck out my eyes. I clutched the case papers, hand sweating, having just managed to grab them before Ella tucked them into the Chambers briefcase she was charged with carrying on my behalf.
‘Don’t you want me to sort the papers out, Lawrence?’ she asked pinch-faced and officious as we finally edged our way through the door. I strode on, desperate to get away and hole up somewhere cold and quiet.
‘High-profile, Ella,’ I said over my shoulder. ‘A right pain for anyone to tidy up the loose ends. I’ll do it this time. I’m sure I’ll dump some on you one day, never fear.’
She seemed satisfied with the promise as I looked for a gap in the crowd by the main exit that was hack-free. Another case must have turned out with a more intriguing verdict than ours and the vultures had regrouped to devour the guts of that instead, barring all obvious exits.
‘Come on – that way,’ indicating the side door I knew of old w
ould take us out through the tradesman’s entrance and on to a back alleyway. She looked surprised. ‘Another thing that’s a pain – the press. Just when you want to get away without admitting anything more, they’re waiting to jump you and print whatever indiscretion you may let slip in the relief of having won.’
‘Oh.’ She still looked surprised. ‘Are there more indiscretions in this one, Lawrence? I thought it was cut and dried now.’ I didn’t even answer – any reply to that would have been a joke. I couldn’t see Win any longer. I wondered where he’d gone and what he was up to but for the moment being in the public eye was going to dictate my every move. No private moments for me – with him or Kat – and it seemed likely Ella was to be my public eye in that respect.
We had to enter Chambers by my least favourite, but now, somewhat well-known route – the basement. It was another surprise for Ella and she wanted to know all about it – when it was last used, what was the most infamous case I’d taken, what had the verdict been? Honest answers would have taken her rather too near truths I didn’t want to think about – let alone share. Yet nor did I have the stomach for lies and pretence at the moment. I made a mental note to off-load her onto Francis or Jeremy as soon as I could. Probably Jeremy. He’d appreciate the pretty face if not the barrage of questions. Accepting her help had seemed to be a good way of appeasing Heather – still on the war path for being dragged into what she called my crap. Now the case was won, Heather could complain all she liked without me having to pander to her. The potential for putting Kat’s nose out of joint far outweighed the grief for doing the same to Heather’s. Heather would just have to suffer another nose job to go with all the rest of her cosmetic rearrangements, I thought sourly.
I tried to shake Ella off at the clerk’s office by handing her over to Louise with the explanation that I needed to see to tomorrow’s formalities, but she stuck like chewed gum to a shoe.
‘I could help you with them as well, Mr Juste,’ she suggested. Brittle as porcelain but as tough as old boots.
‘There’s some private business in relation to Mrs Juste’s will for you to deal with here, sir,’ Louise interrupted. ‘I’ll bring the notes up for you while Ella holds the fort for me – you don’t mind, do you Ella?’
Ella plainly did, but Mr Tibbs swiped at her ankle, laddering her sleek black tights. ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why do we have a cat here, anyway?’
‘For the mice,’ Louise replied sweetly. ‘They’re everywhere – keep an eye out for them, won’t you?’ She swept past Ella, making the office chair swivel and nudge at Ella’s legs. Ella sat on it hurriedly and swung her feet off the floor.
‘Really?’
We escaped whilst she scanned the floor for signs of vermin, me wondering what new complication with Margaret’s affairs there was to deal with now. At the top of the stairs and out of earshot of Ella and Herr Oberlord Gregory, Commander of the Clerks – surely lurking poisonously somewhere like mustard gas – I gave in to curiosity.
‘What do you have for me then, Louise?’
She grinned. ‘Nothing, but I thought you might need a breather from Ella. She’s very,’ she paused, ‘enthusiastic.’ I laughed out loud. Bless Louise for her intuitiveness. Perhaps I did have a guardian angel after all – or a variety of them, all in unexpected guises and fulfilling different purposes. ‘But I’ll just slip out for lunch now, if that’s OK with you, Mr Juste, and leave Ella in the hot seat.’
‘Go right ahead, Louise. Have as long as you like on me!’
She disappeared down the back stairs and no doubt slipped out the way I’d come in. For me the peace and thinking space of my office beckoned seductively. I slipped past Francis and Jeremy’s open doors. They were out again – both more out than in these days. Were there nuances I was missing here in my own self-immersion? I paused at Jeremy’s door for a moment, trying to gauge what the room told me of his current state of affairs. It was pristine. Was that the cleaner’s doing, or his – indicative of a tidy mind, or a secretive one?
It occurred to me I’d lost sight of my fellow partners’ lives in the confusion of my own disordered one. Maybe Heather’s allocation of Ella to me had actually been designed to help, not police me, but I disregarded that idea almost immediately. I looked along the corridor. Heather might be more difficult to get past if she was in: eagle-eyed, caustic, suspicious – and on my case. I approached cautiously. Her door was open too but she was on the phone, slewed round towards the window and berating the unfortunate on the other end; oblivious to passers-by for once. One of my guardian angels must still be in place. I reached my bolthole unnoticed and turned the key in the door on my side. Fainsies – like kids – except this was as far from kids’ games as I could conceive.
Louise had been correct in one sense. I did have things to deal with in connection with Margaret’s will – the things she had willed me to do through her plotting and scheming. The not guilty verdict might have been a win, but the case was far from closed. If anything, for me it had been blown wide open by taking a defiant stance against Jaggers. And apart from Jaggers, I also now had an antagonist in Win for ‘shafting him’, as he’d put it. I fished out the note Jaggers had endorsed on the reverse and considered what he’d written in reply to my challenge.
‘Better make sure you’re good at playing pot shots then, and don’t believe everything you are told. Assumptions can produce unpleasant surprises – like families.
And remember, I always win ...’
He’d backed down, but what precisely did he mean by the second sentence? A reference to Win? Or a reference to Danny and his parentage? Don’t believe everything you are told. There were clearly a great deal of family politics I knew nothing of yet, but was going to have to get to grips with. I must have dozed because I woke with a start to hammering on my door. I jumped up, muzzy-headed and stumbled over to it. It was Heather.
‘Christ, Lawrence, what are you playing at? Ella told me you managed to give her the slip and then locked yourself away and weren’t answering any calls. Are you all right?’
‘Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Well, pressures ...’ She trailed off and frowned at me. I hoped she would go away but Heather was never that easy to put off. She thrust a newspaper at me. ‘Well, now I’ve located you, you’d better have a look at this.’ I took it automatically as she pushed past me and settled herself into my chair, swinging a polished stiletto and tapping immaculate polished red fingertips on the desk. I imagined them tapping a small sharp indent in the smooth wood surface, like a woodpecker tap-tapping its message. ‘It could go either way – depending on how you play it now.’ We were clearly in for one of her ‘discussions’ so I pushed the door shut and took the seat opposite her – the supplicant’s seat. I tried to push the remnants of Danny’s case folder to one side, but she spread her hand over them and the nails looked like talons, digging into flesh. ‘No, if you were considering your options, best to carry on doing so with all the facts,’ she said silkily. I covered the notes with the newspaper instead. ‘Page two – it’s an advance copy. Don’t ask, I have my sources. I sent them a press release before the shit hit.’
I read.
‘Just(ic)e served at last’
After a day of dramatic revelations in court yesterday, Lawrence Juste QC has been crowned not only the justice with a heart, but also a soul. Juste related in court the convoluted case history that led to him uncovering not only his young client’s innocence but also rediscovering his own family.
A spokesperson for FFF (Finding Futures for Families), which Juste’s deceased wife Margaret worked tirelessly for as patron, commented they couldn’t be happier with the outcome for Danny Hewson – Juste’s young client – acquitted of manslaughter as a result of Juste’s revelations. It pledged to continue her work and that of its other former patron, Lord Justice Wemmick, who it is now revealed so charitably financially supported Juste to enable him to achieve his childhood dream of being called to the
Bar. The charity reaffirmed their intention to uphold Wemmick’s pledge that no child in care should be disadvantaged by background or lineage. When interviewed later, Juste referred to Lord Justice Wemmick as a veritable saint.
Now the facts are out, certainly, Lawrence Juste can no longer be said to be squeaky-clean but will he prove to be the most squeakily honest lawman we’ve come across in a long time? The jury’s still out on that, but first signs are encouraging...
Just enough, and not too much. Heather was as tart as her shoes when it came to organising press coverage, but now we would all have to live up to it. I wondered how that was going to work. What came next was going to be the tricky part.
I smiled wryly. Atticus would have approved though.
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ABOUT D.B MARTIN
D.B. Martin writes adult psychological thriller fiction, as well as literary fiction as Debrah Martin. She also writes contemporary YA fiction, featuring a teen detective series, under the pen name of Lily Stuart. You can find more of her work on www.debrahmartin.co.uk. Or sign up for updates on forthcoming publications and special offers at: http://eepurl.com/3-965
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