A Legal Affair

Chapter 2: The new kid on the block

On their way to Elisabeth's office the principal solicitor in charge of criminal law, Colin Petrie, diverted them to his own, pointing to chairs and taking one for himself. 'How'd it go?'

Elisabeth said, 'He's okay with me taking over.'

'Have you two talked yet?'

'As much as we've had time for. What I want to do now is read everything, then go over it with Robert. Then talk to any of the witnesses I'm able to before getting back to Russell.'

'What did you think of him?'

Russell's last look was sealed in her memory. 'A nice kid.'

'Don't be deceived.'

'Why? Is there something I should know?'

'No. I'm just saying don't be fooled by appearances.'

She was the unknown, so she made the concession. 'I'm not. But there's something genuine about him. A jury might be sympathetic.'

He snapped. 'That's not something you should take for granted.'

Again, placatory. 'I know.'

'Well,' he said, dismissively, 'You've got two weeks. Keep Lister informed. It's the kind of case he likes to be involved in. You'd better see him now and let him know where you are with it.'

'Is he always like that? Or is it just me?' In her new office Elisabeth dropped her briefcase and hung her jacket over the back of a chair. A coat stand would be handy but there was barely room for what was already there: desk, bookcase, filing cabinet, her own chair and two for visitors. What there was no room for was lounging; visitors would be knocking their knees on her desk. She had spoken quietly, her office barely half a dozen steps from Petrie's.

Robert followed and took a spare chair. 'He wanted the case but he's snowed under so Lister gave it to you. I'm surprised Lister didn't take it himself. Like Colin said, this is the sort of case he likes and it's not often he gets the chance. You must have made an impression.'

She had been interviewed for the job by both. And both had been enthusiastic. The one thing she hadn't counted on when assigned this case was any type of supervision. At interview she had been given to understand they operated much as a private firm did, that she would run her own cases. The only form of accounting she had envisaged would be at the wrap-up and to the team - and that as little or as much as she preferred. In this case the team was Robert Murphy and Judy Bowman, one of the office's two para-legals. Robert was already giving her qualms. She had never thought she would be less than happy that any offsider would be shrewd and intelligent. She was just going to have to be shrewder.

'Tough,' she said, then put it aside. 'About Russell, a few things are niggling me. It's all so straightforward, so neat. Everyone's so sincere. We have an accused who can't remember, a wife who says he killed her husband in front of her, and a friend and his girlfriend saying he must have done it - with a knife that everyone who knows him says he never let out of his possession.' She shivered and rubbed her arms. 'Is there a problem with the air conditioning?'

'Feels fine to me.'

Elisabeth reclaimed her jacket and dropped her elbows onto the desk to rub her face. 'Let me read everything and tomorrow we'll get cracking.' As Robert left she asked, 'What's Niemen like?'

He took the two paces necessary to bring him back. 'Fair enough. We'd have preferred Wilson, but he's taken three months' leave. We couldn't stall that long.' He waited. Was that all she wanted?

'Who's for the Crown?'

'QC from Sydney. Thierry Richards. Know him?'

She stared.

'You do?'

'Who doesn't,' she said, remembering she had to see Lister. As she followed Robert out Colin Petrie called, 'Have you been upstairs yet?'

'Going now,' she said without breaking step and giving him the chance for additions, heading off down the corridor and up the internal steps to the first floor warren where it was a memory test in negotiating skills. A couple of directions were necessary. Liz Fraser, Lister's secretary, waved her through although he was on the phone. An agreed arrangement because he motioned her to a seat forming part of a subdued four petal arrangement fanning out from a teak veneered coffee table without taking breath. Elisabeth edged her way around to have her back to the window.

The decor followed the dove grey and plum diluted by cream colour scheme of the overall office floor plan. Details overlooked at interview she now took stock of. The wood-veneered executive furniture failed to draw attention away from the urbane, well-spoken man of middling years occupying it. Well groomed, handsomely large and impeccably tailored he lounged at ease behind his free-from-litter desk and carried on the one-sided conversation as though she was not there.

She didn't listen. She was preparing what she was going to say. Ten minutes later, when she left, she was obligated to twice weekly briefings and had been extended an open invitation, which she felt he would chase, for discussions on any point at any time.

She took everything home that night. An airy one-bedroom apartment in a recently built inner city block. More than she wanted to pay in rent but only five minutes walk from the office while she looked for something permanent. With the balcony door open wide for any breeze Elisabeth sat and pored through witness statements, investigation notes, committal transcripts and Warren Beaumont's notes, all the time making her own.

By three thirty the next morning she had been through it all.

***

'We're going to try tracing the family.'

Robert looked like he had misheard. 'You saw the report?'

'Yes, and I can't believe you couldn't find them.'

He was speechless. That was all right, she was in no mood to keep the peace. He found some words. 'We went through everything: police, local council, electoral roll, clubs, and came up with nothing.'

Elisabeth changed her mind and decided to settle his feathers. 'The school had his details. Two neighbours remembered the family.'

'Who moved away God knows when or where to.'

'After Russell went jackarooing presumably, because the Redland Downs' records note that address as his home address. And they said he received mail.'

'But didn't keep any.'

'Maybe he doesn't hoard.' She was short of patience. 'Let's be charitable. Maybe no-one had contacted him for a while. Maybe things went astray. It's only when something like this happens that people start putting all sorts of connotations on the most innocent of things. You know that. What did they find when they picked him up? Were there photos or anything in his wallet? Did he have a laptop or tablet? How about a mobile?'

'He didn't have them. No point, reception's iffy out there I imagine. And nineteen year olds don't carry address books and family photos around.'

'My point exactly.'