Isla’s heart raced. Did Lyons’s visit herald a return to the Hong Kong venture? she wondered.
With junior lawyers squeezed into tiny, boxed offices, they weren’t expected to entertain visitors and their offices were furnished accordingly. Lyons pulled up his sharply creased trousers and sat down in the single chair opposite her desk. He regarded her over the top of interlaced fingers with a pensive look that Isla found unnerving.
She swept her fingers through her hair to tidy it back from her face. She wished he’d given her a chance to reapply her lippy and stick a breath mint in her mouth.
“What can I do for you, Ernest?”
“I’ve never thought of you as a stupid woman, Isla, but I’m left wondering what you’re doing with the Harley Carroll case. It was an open and shut court appearance last week. It should have all been over with very little fuss. Now Ryan tells me that the case is still ongoing. In fact you actually cancelled the sentencing and requested a re-investigation. I am dumbfounded by the news. Particularly as I thought you were keen to rejoin the Hong Kong venture.”
Silently she cursed Ryan. Why had he brought her pro bono case to the front and center of Lyons’s attention, except to exacerbate Lyons’s annoyance with her? She hadn’t realized the case was important enough to capture any of the partners’ attention.
“Of course I’m very keen to join–”
Lyons waved a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. His gaze trapped her like she was in the crosshairs of his hunting rifle. She watched his lips tighten peevishly between the two grooves flanking his mouth, and knew it promised nothing good was going to come from this conversation.
“Tell me, do you think Harley Carroll is innocent?”
Shocked by the question, Isla drew in a deep breath. Guilt and innocence were tricky concepts for lawyers when defending their clients. No matter what a defendant had done, he was never legally guilty until convicted. In this case Harley Carroll had already convicted himself.
“You know what I think is immaterial to the case, Ernest.”
“Then, bugger me, Isla, if you don’t consider him innocent, why did you cancel the sentencing? If he’s guilty what’s the point of a retrial? You’re going to make Ironrod Lyons Freemont a laughing stock! I’m having lunch with Judge Benedict Rafferty tomorrow and thank God Ryan gave me the heads up on what was happening!”
Isla clamped her lips shut, afraid that any response was simply going to detonate further explosions from Lyons. A few seconds of loaded silence passed.
“Every case our lawyers handle reflects on the firm’s reputation. Every case, pro bono or paid.” To emphasize his words, Lyons stabbed down on her desk with his index finger. “So I ask you again, Isla, why did you cancel the sentencing and request another investigation?”
Under her desk she rubbed her slick hands against her skirt and wondered whether to bullshit Lyons or tell him the truth.
“I don’t believe he got a fair deal. The truth wasn’t told. Justice wasn’t served.”
Lyons laughed harshly.
“Truth? Justice? What century are you living in, Isla? We’re lawyers for Chrissake, not evangelical do-gooders. This was an open and shut case. You could have finalized it and joined the team working for our Hong Kong client. Instead you’ve risked your career ambitions for a teen murderer that you don’t even believe is innocent! That’s stupidity we can’t countenance in a partner.” He shook his head as though bewildered. “I have to say, I hope this isn’t the standard of women lawyers in this country. If it is, Perry Grais’s clients will welcome us with open arms once we absorb the company into our firm.”
Isla was stunned by his tirade. She felt the sting of his words like a lash on her back.
Lyons stood, adjusting his jacket so it fell in an elegant line.
“I had hoped you’d dispel Ryan’s aspersions against you, Isla. But you haven’t. You’d better wrap up the Carrolls’ case without anything untoward happening.” His eyes continued to drill into her. “To think I almost made the mistake of including you in the Hong Kong deal!”
Lyons glided smoothly from her office like the snake he was, leaving Isla rocked to the core. She had been so sure all her hard work was leading her along the track to becoming partner.
Lillian Perry’s words haunted her: Ironrod Lyons Freemont will never appoint a second female partner!
Chapter 20
Thursday 14 December
Isla fought to control a panic attack as she realized that Lyons had just killed her career. For the next five minutes she tried to wrap her head around her conversation with Lyons, but all that drummed through her head was the simple certainty: I’m no longer on the path to partnership.
She wondered if there was a way to win back her standing in the firm, when Ryan gave a quick tap on the glass door and slid it open just wide enough to stick his head through.
“I saw you had a visit from Lyons. Everything okay?”
His concerned expression poorly concealed the jealousy he felt of any attention his mentor might bestow on a competing barrister.
Isla got a grip on herself and smiled brightly at Ryan. She would be damned before she let him know her turmoil, especially as he was the one who had ratted her out to Lyons. Ryan was fishing for information, which meant he didn’t know for sure if Lyons had been commending her or giving her a bollocking. No doubt Lyons would fill him in on the juicy details in the morning.
“Just packing up for the night. How about you? What has Lyons got you working on at the moment?” Isla had no interest in Ryan’s workload, she simply used the words as a diversionary tactic to steer his attention away from his original question.
“I’m shit deep in this damn merger with Perry Grais. It’s a pain in the arse to be honest. Perry Grais are fighting us every step of the way. Ridiculous when you think about it. They’re a two bob company so it can only be good for their bottom line to join a top twenty firm like Ironrod.”
“Lyons won’t like that. No doubt he expected them to roll over and play dead while he picked their carcass,” Isla said bitterly. After her failed interaction with Lillian Perry at the charity gala, Lyons had dismissed Isla from the merger team.
Ryan emitted a heehaw of laughter.
“So how come you’re dealing with the merger? I thought you were ear-marked for our notable Hong Kong client?”
The smile slid off Ryan’s face, changing into a grimace.
“That’s the trouble. Our Hong Kong client is considering proposals from both ILF and Perry Grais for his business. Seems Perry Grais brokered some deal previously in Hong Kong that the client was impressed with. The potential contract for his catfood business is worth millions, so Lyons wants the edge.”
“And swallowing Perry Grais whole will give him that edge,” Isla said, as it dawned on her why there was such urgency over the merger. “So, are you in charge of changing Perry Grais’s minds? Is that what you’re working on tonight?”
A cagey look descended over Ryan’s features. He tapped the side of his nose. “Can’t really reveal my techniques. Anyway, I’ll say goodnight. I’m on my way for a ciggy break.”
Due to the number of lawyers on the premises who still smoked, a “smokers’ courtyard” had been installed on the rooftop. No matter the weather, smokers clumped there like addicts taking a hit. She understood it was a stress-release mechanism but failed to fathom why anyone wanted to destroy their lungs and stink up their clothes and hair to do it.
Listening to the rhythm of Ryan’s footsteps clicking their way towards the stairs, Isla was overwhelmed with a pity fest for herself and any female lawyers who had to deal with slugs like Lyons and Ryan. Poor Lillian Perry who was about to lose her livelihood after years of hard slog building up her company. She had liked Lillian’s forthright manner when she met her at the charity gala. Lillian had only been brusque because she had been standing up for her ideals.
She felt a pang of guilt. Lillian probably had no idea of the lengths Lyons was pr
epared to go. She repressed a shiver, remembering Lyons’s cold, calculating eyes. Maybe Lillian was right and women should stick together to stick it to the men in law!
Fueled by a sudden burst of energy, Isla erupted from her office and shot across the corridor to Ryan’s office. His computer hummed quietly in the background playing music as she opened the door.
Isla’s eyes ransacked his desk. The glossy surface was surprisingly clean. A legal pad had some doodles scrawled over it and his encrypted flash drive. A half-empty coffee mug sat on a coaster near a pen caddy. The landline phone had been moved to the middle of his desk, which made her think he must have been using it before leaving the office.
Her eyes flicked to his monitor and she moved the mouse to de-activate the screen saver. His computer hadn’t had time to lock out and she was able to view the word document he had left open. It contained a list of names and phone numbers. There was another column beside each name that held smaller numbers. Isla scrolled to the top of the document. This column was headed “shares owned.”
She pulled out her phone and snapped a photo. Her heart pounding, she picked his secure flash drive from the desk and inserted the stick into the computer. When ILF issued staff with the encrypted drives their IT department had set the initial passwords as surname@1234, telling staff to then change them.
Taking a chance Isla typed in “Gildenstern@1234”. When the drive activated, she made a mental note to change her own password. The drive contained a slide deck of the firm’s strategy for their presentation to their prospective Hong Kong catfood client. Her heart squeezed tightly with anxiety as she threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. Through the glass partitions there was no sign of Ryan returning, so she inserted her own flash drive and dragged a copy of Ryan’s files across before removing both USB sticks.
Her hand trembling with nerves, she fumbled open Ryan’s door and snuck back to her own office.
The adrenaline spike she’d experienced when invading Ryan’s office faded and her previous exhaustion resurfaced. She slumped into the seat at her desk. The silence of an empty office floor shrouded her. All her ears heard was the slowly decelerating sound of her heart beat as she reassured herself there was no one to witness her actions. Even the cleaners had passed through over an hour ago.
She tapped on her phone, bringing the photographed document to the fore. Again she considered the information contained in the list. She was confident she knew what it meant. One of the most common ways to stage a hostile takeover was simply to buy up more stock in the company than the managing partners held. She had no doubt Ryan was targeting a list of shareholders. All ILF had to do was purchase one percent more stock than Perry Grais held and they could control the company.
Blocking the number on her smart phone so it wouldn’t register, Isla dialed the first name on the list.
“Jennifer Fox,” a sharp voice answered.
Isla swallowed in a dry mouth. She had no idea what to say. She cleared her throat nervously.
“Ms. Fox, I’m phoning on behalf of Ryan Gildenstern.”
“Again? I’m sick of being bothered! You tell him I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’ll only consider selling my shares if Ironrod sweeten the deal by ten percent.”
Isla’s mind whirled.
“Uh, that’s good to know. Thank you Ms. Fox. Ryan will be in touch.”
Isla sat back in her chair and watched Ryan return to his office. Looking through her glass wall he raised his eyebrows questioningly and mouthed, “Still here?”
“Just leaving,” she acknowledged.
Isla took a few moments to stack the piles of paper into already full paper trays and switch off her computer. Deep in thought, she stashed her phone and flash drive in her purse and picked up her briefcase. It looked like Perry Grais were in for a rough ride.
She chewed her lip, brooding over the injustice. Someone really ought to warn Lillian Perry what Ironrod Lyons Freemont were up to, she thought.
Chapter 21
Friday 15 December
Bex checked over the report Reuben had dropped on her desk earlier that morning. He had matched the girls’ names provided by the Kids Commando Club with hospital admissions and got lucky with a match at the Barnet Hospital. He had attached the hospital and police reports for her to read.
Nearly three years ago, Skylar Mitchell had been admitted with multiple injuries: crushed abdomen, including a broken pelvis, damaged liver, spleen and kidneys, second, third and fourth ribs on left side fractured with a liter of blood in the pleural cavity. Her skull sustained multiple fractures with meninges lacerated irregularly. Bex grimaced reading the list. It had been a hell of a way to die. Despite the best efforts of the paramedics she had been DOA.
The police report included a statement from the train driver on the London Overground suburban rail network who stated that Skylar had launched herself off the platform in front of his cabin, too close to give him any time to stop. The police concluded that Mitchell’s actions were deliberate. She had committed suicide.
There was a statement from Mitchell’s mother, Helen Mitchell, who was listed as the next of kin. She reported that her daughter had seemed a bit listless that day. Helen had checked her temperature, which was normal, and so had decided that Skylar was trying to skive off school. They had argued, but then Skylar had reluctantly left the house for school. Skylar Mitchell was fourteen when she died.
Bex called Reuben into her office to compliment him.
“Good work tracking this info, Reuben. I think you should follow up with an interview with Helen Mitchell and see what other details we can get to determine if there is a connection to either Keith or Harley Carroll.”
“Are you coming with me, Boss? Ms. Mitchell might respond better with a female present. Discussing the death of her daughter might be traumatic for her.”
Bex flinched. The perpetual sadness she carried with her over Zane’s death was always exacerbated when she had to deal with others’ grief. But Reuben had no idea of the sorrow she hid and he had a point. She sucked in a deep breath.
“Agreed, Reuben. It will be good to get out of the office for awhile.”
“Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out there, Bex, not to mention Reuben’s. What do you call that for an overcoat, boyo?” Eli quipped as they headed out the office.
“I’ll have you know it’s a classic racer leather Moto jacket.” Reuben flipped Eli the bird.
Everyone in the office eyed the short jacket that stopped above his hips revealing skinny-legged jeans that Bex doubted would keep in much heat.
“Eli’s right, mate. You’re going to freeze that skinny arse of yours. Take it from me, nobody ever bought a leather jacket for practicality,” Idris added.
“You’re a bunch of jealous gits! I’m driving to Mill Hill, not hiking the bloody Himalayas,” Reuben retorted with a good-natured grin.
Bex shepherded him out of the office before more insults could be exchanged. Downstairs, she let Reuben take the wheel in one of the unmarked police cars. Even though Reuben’s habit of not keeping his eyes on the road unnerved her, she was still more comfortable being a passenger than a driver on the left side of the road.
Reuben’s knowledge of London streets had them zipping and weaving through traffic to reach Helen Mitchell’s home in Mill Hill. She lived in a three-story terraced house at the lower end of the market range, according to Reuben, whose previous profession provided him with an intimate acquaintance of London’s real estate market.
“Nice enough, but not a penny over one mill,” Reuben estimated.
A green privet hedge bordered the front, the wide door was newly painted while the large windows to the side and above them stared down blankly.
The woman answering the door looked to be in her early forties, her pale skin was dotted with freckles and her strawberry blonde hair was scraped back into a short ponytail. She wore a baggy sweatshirt over an old pair of jeans. Rubber gloves covered her hands and
she looked like she had been in the middle of cleaning.
After showing her their warrant cards, she silently ushered them inside.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs Mitchell,” Bex said, as they took seats on an oversized sofa loaded with cushions and throw rugs.
“Actually it’s Ms., but I’d prefer it if you call me Helen.”
A vacuum cleaner stood near the center of the room. A bucket and mop leaned against the wall.
Helen stripped off her gloves with an apology. “Sorry, but I like to get stuck into the housework while the kids are at school.” She put a nervous hand up to her hair, brushing back a few loose strands. “You said you wanted to ask me some questions about Skylar. Are you opening the investigation again? Has something turned up?”
“We’re not sure, that’s why we’re asking some questions,” Bex imbued her voice with gentleness.
Helen heaved a sigh. “What is it that you want to know?”
“Is that your daughter?” Bex picked up a frame showing a teenaged girl with a shy smile and curling blond hair from an array of photos scattered over a number of flat surfaces.
“Yes, that’s Skylar.”
“She was a lovely looking girl. Did she have many friends?” Bex fought down a rising tide of empathy in order to keep her own emotions in check. She couldn’t afford to be emotional on the job.
“You’d think so, but actually no. She might have been beautiful on the outside but she was a mess inside, I’m afraid. You see, she had a lisp. It made her self-conscious so she kept quiet in lots of social situations. She had one or two school friends but found it difficult cultivating friendships.”
Bex nodded in understanding. “Is that why she joined Kids Commando?”
“It was her speech therapist’s idea for Skylar to participate in a group. Skylar had a lateral lisp, which is quite difficult to treat. The air rushes around the sides of the tongue and made her words sort of slushy sounding, as though she had too much saliva. She was incredibly embarrassed about it. The therapist had her doing exercises and gradually her speech was becoming more normal sounding. He suggested it was time to help her develop some confidence by mingling with a different set of people who weren’t aware of her lisp. I’m not sure that Skylar herself actually believed she would ever be able to talk properly, but we followed his advice and investigated several groups before settling on Kids Commando.”
Courting Death Page 11
