MURDER BRIEF Read online

  Robyn boiled with frustration. Maybe she could flick the Muldoon brief to another barrister. But whoever took the brief would have to spend at least a day preparing for the trial and at least another day in court, for free. Who’d be stupid enough to do that? Robyn only took the brief because she was young and naïve. If she was offered it now, she’d run a mile. No question.

  Mrs Muldoon saw the look of concern on Robyn’s face. "Something wrong, dear?"

  Robyn managed a grim smile. "Oh, no, no. I’m definitely, umm, ready."

  Now completely distracted, Robyn let Mrs Muldoon burble on for another ten minutes, without listening, before abruptly telling her she had to see another client.

  Mrs Muldoon looked annoyed and said she’d almost finished. But Robyn rose and defiantly escorted her to the lifts.

  The solicitor instructing Robyn in the matter was a suburban practitioner called George Kotakis. Because he was also acting pro bono and now heartily despised Mrs Muldoon, he’d shown little interest and made Robyn do all the work.

  Robyn called him at his office. After they’d exchanged hellos, she said: "George, I’ve got a problem."

  "What?"

  "I’ve been offered a junior brief in a murder trial."

  "Which one?"

  "The Markham case."

  "Congratulations. That’s fantastic."

  "Yeah. But it’s in the same week as the Muldoon trial."

  A long silence. "Really?"

  "Yes."

  "Shit."

  "So I was wondering if you could find another barrister to do it."

  "You’re kidding, right? Nobody will take the brief. Mrs Muldoon doesn’t have a cent - not a zack."

  "You must know some barristers who owe you a favour."

  "Yeah, I do. But I won’t call in any IOUs for Mrs Muldoon. Definitely not."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah."

  George could appear himself for Mrs Muldoon. The charge was small potatoes and he’d do as good a job as any barrister. But he obviously wouldn’t lift a finger to help. He’d act as a mail-box, no more.

  She said: "Alright. I’ll ask around and see if I can find someone."

  "OK. But I don’t like your chances."

  "Nor do I."

  "If you can’t find a replacement, tell Mrs Muldoon she’s on her own. There’s a limit to how much she can expect."

  "I hear what you say. But I don’t fancy breaking the news to her."

  George sounded grim. "I take you point. Anyway, good luck."

  "Thanks."

  She hung up and desperately wondered whom she could persuade, without telling any lies, to represent Mad Mrs Muldoon and her delinquent dog. Nobody sprung to mind. Nobody.

  OK then, if she had to tell some lies, she would.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The next morning, Robyn spent several hours wandering around Fisher Chambers trying to find a barrister crazy enough to take Mad Mrs Muldoon off her hands. She wheedled, pleaded and begged. But no-one - not even the baby barristers with no work - would appear in a dog-bite case for free. Indeed, several looked insulted she’d asked.

  Who else could she importune? The only remaining candidate was Gary Monaghan. So far, she hadn’t approached him because he was a tax lawyer who’d probably never appeared in a criminal case. But Silvia said he was very keen on Robyn. So maybe he’d take the Muldoon brief to impress her.

  Of course, Robyn couldn’t offer him anything in return. She certainly didn’t want a relationship. So she’d have to be careful she didn’t manipulate him or raise his expectations. She’d ask him very formally to take the brief. And if, despite her best efforts, he fooled himself that she liked him, that would be his fault. She strolled around to his room and stepped through the open doorway.

  Though Gary had only been at the Bar for a few years, he was obviously prospering, because he had a big room overlooking Phillip Street. The three inner walls were lined with a massive collection of leather-bound law reports and loose-leaf tax services. The room was scrupulously neat and clean. Indeed, every document on his desk was carefully aligned with the edges and all of the carpet pile ran in the same direction. Christ.

  Gary sat behind his desk, head down, dictating softly into a mini-cassette recorder. "Of course, the question you have asked is not without difficulty. However, on balance, I believe that the proposed tax-minimisation scheme complies with s149YZK of the Income Tax Assessment Act and is therefore legal. Thank you for your instructions. I enclose my memorandum of fees. End of tape."

  He switched off the tape recorder, sat back, noticed Robyn and flushed slightly. "Oh, hi."

  Despite vowing not to play any games, she couldn’t suppress a coquettish smile. "Hi. Got a moment?"

  He leaned back, a little nervous. "Oh yeah. Sure."

  She’d planned to warm him up with some chit-chat, before asking him to take the Muldoon case. But she was too nervous. He’d probably say no anyway, so why delay?

  She shifted on her feet and glanced down. "It’s like this: I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

  He brighten a little. "A favour?"

  "Yes, a favour."

  "What?"

  Words tumbled out. "I’m looking for someone who’ll take over a pro bono brief I’m stuck with. It’s not much of a brief, I’m afraid. It’s umm, a dog-bite case in the Local Court. I’m for the defendant dog-owner, and the dog I suppose. The trial’s going to start in about a month. I’m jammed, because I’ve got a junior brief in a murder trial and, well, funnily enough, I’d rather do the murder trial."

  He looked a little puzzled. "A dog-bite case?"

  "Yeah. Like I said, I’m for the defendant and I’m afraid she’s pretty mad. In fact, very mad. I’ll be so grateful if you’ll take the brief - so grateful."

  God, she’d vowed she wouldn’t try to manipulate him. But surely, by promising to be grateful, she’d done just that. Shit.

  Gary looked uncertain. "A dog-bite case? You know, I haven’t done one of those."

  "I bet you haven’t. So this is your big chance. And, umm, I’d be so grateful." Shit. She had to stop buttering him up. It was dishonest. It was wrong. It was unavoidable.

  "When’s the hearing?"

  "On 16 June."

  He took a small diary out of a drawer and flicked through it. "Yeah, well, I think I’m free."

  "Oh really? So you’ll do it?"

  He shrugged and smiled nervously. "Why not? I probably should do a criminal matter some time, even if it’s only a dog-bite case. It’ll be an interesting experience. What do I need to know about it?"

  Robyn studied his face, trying to divine his motives. Did he really want some criminal law experience? Or was he trying to curry her favour? He was so shy and polite it was hard to know. Indeed, he was so nice she wondered how he made a living at the Bar. Must be very bright.

  Ultimately though, Robyn didn’t care why he’d agreed to take the brief. The important thing was that she could now appear in the Markham trial. Hallelujah.

  She spent the next five minutes explaining the main features of the case, while he kept nodding his head. "OK. I understand. Drop in the brief when you get a chance."

  "I will, and thank you. Thank you very much."

  He looked a touch embarrassed. "Think nothing of it. I’m sure you’d do the same for me."

  Not a chance. She looked down at the carpet. "Well, I’m very grateful."

  Before the conversation could get more personal, she spun around and strode from the room, deeply relieved.

  However, she soon felt a nagging guilt that she’d toyed with the affections of a very decent guy and prayed that sin didn’t come back to haunt her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Brian Davis nudged his Audi coupe through dense traffic, with Robyn next to him, heading for the Markhams’ terrace in Paddington to inspect the murder scene.

  Brian had already asked her several personal questions, trying to create a rapport. She kept her answers short
to give him no footholds.

  However, he persisted. "Your dad was a judge, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "Died in chambers, I hear?"

  "Yes."

  "I’ve spoken to a few old-timers who appeared before him. Said he was very able."

  "Yes, and very frosty, I’m told."

  Brian smiled. "They mentioned that. You want to become a judge yourself?"

  Now he was getting annoying. "First up, I want to make a living - then I’ll see."

  "Yeah. It’s hard isn’t it, when you start out? It’s all a question of who you know."

  Was he suggesting that, if she shagged him, she’d get ahead? Crude bastard.

  "Seems so."

  "And I suppose all your Dad’s old pals are long gone?"

  If he had any. "Yes, unfortunately."

  "Too bad."

  "What about you? Did you have any contacts when you started?"

  "Yeah. My dad was a silk. When I came to the bar, he took me under his wing."

  That figured. Sometimes the Bar was like a guild into which parents introduced their children. It certainly explained his great sense of entitlement.

  He skirted around a taxi and said: "What do you think of this car?"

  Why stroke his ego? "Nice colour.’

  He smiled uncertainly. "That all?"

  "What else matters? Does it have good petrol mileage?"

  He frowned. "Mileage? You don’t buy a car like this for mileage."

  She was enjoying herself. "Then what do you buy it for?"

  He looked puzzled and half-smiled. "Oh, I see what you’re saying. It’s pretty self-indulgent, I know. But I can’t help myself. I’ve never been good at deferring gratification."

  She was tired of his weak attempts at boyish charm and shifted to professional matters. "What do you hope to learn at the murder scene? I mean, we’ve both seen the police forensic reports and photos."

  He shrugged. "I don’t know. I just want to poke around and get a feel for the place. And I want to keep our client happy. Clients expect their lawyers to visit the locus in quo. Otherwise, we look slack."

  He’d already mentioned that Rex Markham and Bernie Roberts would meet them at the terrace.

  He weaved past a couple of cars, turned into a narrow cul-de-sac and parked against the curb. Fifteen metres away, Rex and Bernie stood outside a large terrace with a third man Robyn didn’t know. That man was in his late thirties, with blond hair and fine features.

  Ten metres beyond them, leaning against a car, was a fat guy in an ill-fitting brown suit. Obviously, the Homicide detective assigned to supervise their visit. Maybe he took his suit off a corpse.

  The two barristers approached the group of three.

  Brian said: "Sorry we’re a bit late - bad traffic."

  Rex, looking strained, nodded towards the tall blond man. "This is Tim Nolan, a good friend of mine. Tim’s here to provide moral support."

  Nolan shook hands with the two barristers.

  Brian said: "You a writer too?"

  Nolan laughed. "Not really. I’m a sports reporter. I cover cricket for the Herald."

  "That’s writing, isn’t it?"

  Another laugh. "A very low form."

  Rex said: "He’s selling himself short: he’s a good writer; has even ghosted a few cricket auto-biogs."

  Bernie said: "Tim’s agreed to provide character evidence at the trial."

  Accused in criminal trials can call witnesses to prove their good character and the unlikelihood of them committing the crime.

  Nolan said: "It’s the least I can do. There’s no way Rex killed Alice. I’m sure of that."

  "Good." Brian looked back at Rex. "You sure you want to go inside? You might find it upsetting?"

  Rex shrugged. "I’ll be fine. In fact, this might help me slay a few demons."

  "OK."

  Bernie turned towards the fat guy lounging against a car. "Detective Brooks, we’re ready to go inside."

  Jowls bouncing, the detective lumbered towards the front door holding a set of keys. "Alright. I’ll let you in. But I have to accompany you, OK?"

  Bernie nodded. "Sure. Just don’t listen to our conversations."

  "Don’t worry. I’ll stay back."

  Robyn stared up at a wide, three-storey terrace. Rex had obviously made plenty of money from scribbling novels and selling film rights.

  Detective Brooks unlocked the front door, stepped aside to let them enter, and then followed several paces behind.

  In the hallway, Bernie said: "Alright. Alice was murdered in the kitchen. We’d better go there first." He glanced at his client. "Rex, perhaps you’ll lead the way."

  Rex led everyone down a long hallway to a massive kitchen with a stainless-steel topped island big enough for ping-pong, overlooking a tiny back-yard.

  According to the report of the police forensic pathologist, Alice Markham, wearing pyjamas, was stabbed several times in the chest while standing in the kitchen. She fell to the floor and quickly died from "exsanguinations of blood".

  There were no traces left of the murder. After the police finished their forensic examination, professional crime-scene cleaners sponged away all blood-stains and even the chalk outline of the body on the floor. However, they hadn’t expunged the spooky vibe.

  Brian glanced at Rex. "You OK?"

  Rex looked tense. "Yeah, fine."

  Everybody stared at the back door, with its splintered jamb.

  Brian would claim, at the trial, that the jamb showed an intruder broke in and murdered Alice. However, the police would allege Rex deliberately smashed the jamb to deflect blame.

  Detective Brooks stood well back while everyone bent over and studied it. Robyn said quietly to Bernie: "Any idea what implement was used?"

  Bernie said: "The police think it was a metal bar."

  "Not recovered?"

  "No."

  Brian straightened up. "Alright, nothing more to see here. According to the police, some stuff was missing from the main bedroom. We’d better go up there."

  Nolan glanced at Rex. "You sure you want to see the bedroom?"

  Rex took a deep breath. "Yeah. I’ll be OK."

  Brian said: "Alright then, you lead the way."

  Long-faced, the novelist trudged back through the terrace and up a long flight of stairs to a wide landing with several closed doors. He took a deep breath and pointed. "That one."

  Robyn pushed open the door and stepped into a large sunny bedroom with a balcony overlooking the back yard.

  Whoever killed Alice came up to the bedroom and took a couple of boxes of jewelry from the dresser, which explained why a few drawers were still open.

  Rex stepped into the bedroom, next to Robyn, looked around and sobbed. "Christ."

  Robyn stared at his trembling features and sensed he was innocent.

  The rest of the group stepped into the bedroom and stared at Rex.

  Robyn touched his forearm. "You alright?"

  He gulped and smiled tensely. "Yeah, I’m OK. But I think I’ll wait outside."

  He spun around and disappeared. Nolan followed.

  Brian looked at Robyn. "Will he be OK?"

  "Yeah, I think so."

  Detective Brooks stepped through the door and asked them not to touch anything.

  Brian said: "It’s been cleaned."

  The detective shrugged. "I’ve got my orders."

  Brian looked slyly at the detective. "OK. But how much did they take?"

  The detective looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

  "The first cops at the crime scene: how much did they take?"

  Detective Brooks frowned. "Ha, ha. Very funny."

  Brian turned to the others. "Well, that seems to cover it. Let’s get out of here."

  They left the terrace and found Rex and his friend standing on the pavement. Rex still looked pale.

  Robyn said: "How’re you feeling?"

  Rex half-smiled. "Better. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine."r />
  Brian said: "Need a lift anywhere?"

  "No, I came with Tim. He’ll drop me off."

  Brian shrugged. "OK."

  Brian and Robyn said goodbye and strolled over to his Audi coupe. As they got in, Brian said: "Well, that was staggeringly uninformative."

  "Yeah, except for our client’s reaction when he stepped into the main bedroom."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He looked so upset. You know, I think he really did love her."

  Brian rolled his eyes and slipped on his Raybans. "Of course he loved her. That’s why he killed her. No point killing someone you don’t love."

  "So, you really think he’s guilty?"

  "Of course he’s guilty. Isn’t it obvious? He was in the middle of a bitter divorce. She was claiming a big slice of his money. So he snuck up to Sydney and bumped off the bitch. But he fucked up when he used his credit card to buy some petrol. What a bonehead."

  "But he’s a smart man. Why would he do something that stupid?"

  "Because, in my experience, the only thing humans will never be short of is stupidity. In fact, the smartest people often do the dumbest things. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because they’ve got their heads in the clouds or because they're so arrogant they don't take normal precautions."

  "OK. But what about his reaction today? He seemed really upset."

  Brian snorted. "Yeah, but why? Because his wife got murdered? Or because he got caught? Who knows? Or maybe he wasn’t upset at all: maybe he was just acting. Don’t judge a book by its cover."

  "Hah, hah. I think he’s innocent."

  "Well, if you want to carry that burden around with you, you can. Just don’t get too attached to him. That’s never a good idea in a murder case. Remember, he’s single at the moment because his wife was murdered. Further, there's a good chance he'll soon have a long vacation in an iron motel."

  His insinuation that she was attracted to Rex Markham was very annoying. Her interest in him was entirely professional. She sympathized with the pain he was going through. But his personality didn’t set her pulse racing. And even if it did, it wouldn’t matter: though he denied murdering his wife, he’d admitted to assaulting her. That alone put him beyond the pale.