The Pinocchio Brief

by Silver Abi

  “Wow!”

  “What?”

  “That coming from you?”

  “Oh, I am sorry. Have I been a total bitch? I am immune to it, you know. I did warn you. But I mean it most sincerely. Almost good enough for me to consider coming back permanently; almost but not quite. Just look what it’s done to me. I am a complete wreck.”

  “That’s a shame,” Constance laughed gently. “I mean, in one week you have single-handedly prevented a terrible miscarriage of justice, shown up Pinocchio, upon which the Government had carried all its hopes to reduce the criminal justice budget for the next 20 years – so I suppose you are not going to be very popular with the Treasury either – obtained an apology from Arkwright, something which if I live to 100 I doubt I will ever see again, and made a stand for people with disabilities.”

  “Well, yes. I suppose so. But we did it all together. I was just the front man. You found the boots – that was tremendous lateral thinking. But how did you make the link to Partram?”

  “Well, the first thing I did when I went back to the school was put on my running shoes and I timed myself running from the pitch to Davis’ rooms and back. I managed the run in five minutes, there and back without stopping; much less time than we thought. Then I sat down to watch the video again, looking out for those boots, like you asked. I went back and watched it all again, minute by minute. But once I saw them, those boots, I couldn’t quite believe it. Then I checked and found out the boy wearing them was the infamous Andrew Partram. And when I looked back, I could see he didn’t have them on at the beginning of the match.”

  “So he swapped. At half time. And the other boy, Miller?”

  “They were his boots. They belonged to his dad. But he never got to play. Partram was blood binned, you remember. He wanted Miller to cover for him, so he asked him to change boots and put his hood up.”

  “But when Partram returned, he forgot to change back.”

  “Either that or he was in too much of a hurry to play, or he was so sure of himself he thought no one would notice. Miller says he was really wound up, bouncing around. That’s probably why he played so fearlessly in the second half.”

  “And Miller? How did you find him?”

  “After I did my practice run, I asked Mr Simpson to bring in the boys from the team including all substitutes, one by one. You can imagine how pleased he was to assist. As soon as Miller came in, he burst into tears.”

  “Did he know, do you think?”

  “He suspected, I’m sure. I mean, he knew he was covering for Partram, putting his hood up so no one could see his face, but I imagine he found it hard to think that his classmate was a murderer. But that’s what boys do, I suppose. They stick together. And no one had asked him, till then.”

  “Sublime. Constance, you were sublime.”

  “Thank you, Judith. Perhaps I was.” Constance accepted the compliment and laughed gently. She too was drained. Her back hurt from hours of sitting hunched over her laptop, her legs ached from running everywhere for the last two days and her skin felt tight from hours of existing in dry, air-conditioned environments. “But if you hadn’t wheedled the video out of Mr Simpson we would never have known any of this.”

  “Yes, wheedling is one of my many talents.”

  Constance laughed deeply.

  “It’s still not much of a motive, is it?” she reflected after a moment.

  “What?”

  “Well, being told you might have to do more maths and less rugby.”

  “Ah. Who knows what was said between those two when they confronted each other. Partram will have been all fired up and Davis might have been nasty and spiteful. Don’t forget that he had just taken that call from Christine Wilson, so he was anxious, wondering what Glover had said to her, concerned what the fallout would be. He may have taunted Partram. And as well as that, Partram was all sweaty and muddy and dishevelled. And Davis was so fastidious. He probably couldn’t bear Davis contaminating his room. Anyway, it does not always pay to dig too deep. Partram killed him and our client did not.”

  “But why did Partram go to see Davis at all, if he was allowed to play?”

  “I don’t know that.” Judith frowned deeply. “Now you ask, I really can’t say. Teenage boys are strange ones, though. Frankly, I no longer care. We have our murderer and our client is free.”

  Constance mused over Judith’s words but she liked all her loose ends tied up. She was not completely happy with the result of their labours.

  “So, I have never really asked,” Judith leaned back and stretched her arm up over the back of her seat. “What do you do when I am not barking orders at you, when you have time to yourself? Is there a Mr Lamb?”

  Constance took a large gulp of wine and crossed her legs, in an attempt to alleviate their discomfort. But she was pleased to have the first opportunity to exchange some personal details with Judith after so many formal conversations.

  “Mike. We live together. He’s an actor.”

  “Really, how fabulous. Still struggling or any successes?”

  “Not too bad so far. He has had some small TV roles but he is auditioning at the moment for a new TV drama set in a hospital. So, I am so pleased we didn’t run over; he likes me to be around to help him learn his lines. I’ll tell you I have been Portia and Bottom. And I can do a mean Lady Macbeth.”

  “I bet you can. How fabulous,” Judith repeated, finishing her first gin and tonic and immediately picking up the second glass.

  “What about you?” Constance responded chattily. “No Mr Burton?”

  “No.” The clipped way Judith uttered the syllable warned Constance not to stray further but she wanted to show Judith why she had asked in the first place. She wasn’t just being nosey. And if they were really a team then she ought to be able to return the question; it shouldn’t all be one-way traffic.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just you do wear a ring, a beautiful ring. I just wondered,” she persisted.

  Judith allowed her right thumb and forefinger to caress the large diamond which adorned her wedding finger. It had been there for so long it had become part of her; she hardly ever noticed its presence and certainly not its value or beauty.

  “I was married,” she replied slowly, gazing over Constance’s shoulder before allowing her eyes to return to her glass. “His name was Martin. He had impeccable taste, hence, as you say, the gorgeous ring. He died.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. I, well, I don’t talk about it, about him, much but perhaps I should. It’s why I left the Bar, you see.”

  Constance sat quietly, her large eyes resting heavily on Judith.

  “Would you like to tell me?” she enquired.

  Judith downed her second gin and tonic and caressed the glass lovingly in her hands.

  “We met when I was at a commercial set. I moved over to crime later on. He was a client. He was already chief executive of Angdoc – terrible name. Sounds Korean, doesn’t it? It was just a breach of contract case for his company; straightforward facts but worth a lot of money. We won the case, he took me out for dinner and we were married within three months.”

  “Gosh. That quick. What was he like?”

  “Tall, fair, square jaw line. He wore glasses for reading, which he was forever leaving around the house. He liked to dress formally, couldn’t abide those ‘dress down days’ which became popular in the ’90s, had four pairs of the same black shoes which he polished relentlessly. He was a fabulous skier, played tennis regularly too. He loved opera and when we were both around and free, which was not that often, we would go, always Covent Garden, never the English version. Surprisingly, he liked to cook too. He was warm but not really a funny man; not without humour but he took life seriously, he took his job and his responsibility to his employees seriously. We didn’t have many holidays overseas.”

  “I see.”

  “But that was all right with me because I was always at work, trying to ‘establish myself’ as they s
ay. I took each and every job which came through the door; common assault, burglary, theft. I worked myself into the ground for five years. Some of the time Martin was travelling, some of the time he was here and he would cook me gourmet dinners, which we would eat together at midnight or whisk me off for some escapist opera after a particularly awful day at the Old Bailey. After those first years, I took my foot off the pedal a bit but we were often apart.”

  “And you didn’t have any children?”

  “No.” There it was again, the warning not to follow that path any further. But Judith, now she had begun, was finding it difficult to retain her usual reticence. “He said it wouldn’t be fair, you see. He was away so often and I was working such long hours even through the night.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “He was wrong, though.”

  “Oh.”

  “Or at least I think so now, although who am I to judge? Children flourish in such varied environments. I suppose I should have been flattered that he didn’t insist I give up work or pretend he approved, as so many husbands do. He saw me as an advocate, as a straight-talking, logical, ball-busting companion; that was what attracted him. I think he couldn’t abide the idea of me being a mother, of me, perhaps, God forbid, cooing over a newborn. Now, of course, part of me wishes we had made a different decision. Although I can’t say with any confidence that I would have been a good mother.” She gave a casual wave of her hand. “You can draw your own conclusions.”

  Constance sat thoughtfully and, whilst Judith purchased a second round of drinks, she sneaked a covert peak at her watch. She could only manage another half an hour or so before she really ought to leave.

  “Soooo.” Judith drew out the one syllable into three in a long drawl as she sat down and stirred her drink in one motion. “I know you must be keen to head home to your delightful actor, Mike, but just to bring things to a close, as you asked. And whilst the alcohol has loosened my tongue. And it really is rather a good ending, certainly a few twists, not one to bow out gently, my husband of the impeccable taste. It was April 2nd and the weather was dire, all blustery and showers. I had just got into bed late having finished the Wilson case.”

  Constance nodded. “The reason I came to you, your last case.”

  “As you say, my last case, although I didn’t know it at the time. Anyway, the telephone rang. I thought it was Martin calling from Paris to ask how it had gone. He was so thoughtful; he always called but it was a little later than usual for him and so I was puzzled by that ring. I still remember the feeling I had so clearly, slightly irritated if it was Martin, as he knew I just might be asleep but still half hoping it was as I so wanted to hear his voice. Now, of course, I berate myself for having ever been cross with him. That was the last thing I felt – irritation – before I heard what had happened.” Judith stared into her empty glass and then returned it to the table.

  “We used to have a sort of ritual where I would précis the best bits of the case and he would have to guess what happened.” Judith sighed again and Constance swallowed. She sensed some tragic denouement and worried that this was going to be a long tale to retell.

  “But it wasn’t Martin,” Judith continued. “It was Natalie, his company’s lawyer based in Paris. She told me to get dressed and get on the next flight out. She wouldn’t tell me anything else, just that something bad had happened, that I should not tell anyone where I was going and that I should do my utmost to be there before the morning.”

  Judith gripped both hands together and took a deep breath.

  “He, Martin, had been at a party. Not the kind of party I ever attended. It seems he went to a lot of these parties; Paris, Berlin, Budapest, Moscow. This was a party with a lot of girls, a lot of young girls, some of them as young as 15. He had a heart attack and died. Bit of a downer for the others, you can imagine. Natalie was wonderful. She picked me up at Charles de Gaulle, took me to his hotel room, sorted out the police, probably bribed them to keep it out of the papers, who knows, definitely paid off the girls he was with to buy their silence, although I can’t imagine any of them desired their other ‘friends’ to know what had happened in any event.

  “She asked me if I wanted to know exactly in what circumstances he had died; I said no. She dealt with all of that – wonderful, accomplished, professional woman. When I finally got to see Martin, he was clean in every sense of the word, smiling gently, innocently, no trace of any indiscretion. And that was that; I accompanied his body back here two days later for a quiet ceremony.”

  Judith’s hands were trembling and she reached for her glass again, returning it to the table smartly when she remembered it was empty. She sniffed once.

  “What a terrible betrayal. How awful for you.” Constance leaned forward and took one of Judith’s shaking hands in hers. Judith coughed and sat back, withdrawing her hand quickly, deliberately avoiding Constance’s eyes.

  “The betrayal was not all his, Connie. There were so many times when I could have asked him and I didn’t. What had he been doing on his trip? Whom had he met? I made assumptions about what he wanted from me and they turned out to be so wrong. Maybe, just maybe, if I had asked him, he would have said he wanted me to work less hours, do the shopping, join him for tennis, paint my toe nails and spend Saturdays in bed.

  “I thought I knew what he wanted and I was so wrong. I pride myself on reading people, on seeing the wood for the trees, on understanding their motivation, what makes them tick. I was so wrong with my own husband. So, I stopped working. I stopped everything. And naturally, I was mortified by the idea of anyone getting to know about the circumstances of his death; these things always come out eventually if you are a person in the public eye. Better to just retire quietly, and he had left me well provided for. And, like I say, my confidence was well and truly shattered.”

  Constance sat in silence for some time. She could not imagine such a disaster befalling such a strong and proud woman. This kind of thing happened to meek homemakers, not to celebrated professionals.

  “You know I didn’t think you would say ‘yes’ when I asked you to take the case?” she ventured gently.

  “Really?”

  “I could see you putting me in my place and sending me off to find someone else from the Establishment.”

  “Yes?”

  “So why did you agree to come back for this one?”

  “I’m not certain I can say now. Boredom, vanity, both, who knows? I thought I was happy in my retirement but I was always defining myself by what I had been. People would ask me ‘what do you do?’ as they do, and I would say ‘I used to be a barrister’ and they would nod in a deferential way. Perhaps it wasn’t deferential, perhaps they thought it was sad that I had to define myself by reference to a job I once had, but it always made me feel important, you see. And without it, well I was just ordinary. I mean anyone can go for a walk in the park, cook a lasagne, drink a bottle of Merlot.” She allowed her eyes to rest on Constance’s face now and she smiled softly. “And I looked you up when you called me. You had this remarkable photograph; I so wanted to meet you.”

  Constance laughed loudly. “Did I?”

  “I can’t explain the effect it had on me. You looked so youthful but also self-possessed, young but wise beyond your years – just as I have found you to be. I thought in that second that we would make a good team.”

  “And we did.”

  “Yes we did.”

  “Listen, Judith. I have to go home. I am really tired and Mike is waiting up. I’m going to walk to the Tube. Can I get you a cab?” Constance rose to her feet.

  “No. Thank you. I will settle myself with one more for the road.”

  “Look, if I get something else juicy in, a case that is…?”

  “Call me. You can always call me.”

  PART FOUR

  43

  “RAYMOND. I am so pleased you could come.” Raymond had pushed open the heavy oak door of the bar and was standing nervously in the doorway. Constance ran
forward and took his hand tightly in hers and led him inside and to the table she was sharing with Judith. His face had filled out noticeably in the two weeks since the trial so that he no longer appeared gaunt and ghostly.

  “Come and sit down here with us. Can I get you a drink?”

  “I suppose I had better stick to orange juice, thank you Miss Lamb. Can’t risk getting either of you into any trouble.”

  Raymond sat down opposite Judith and fidgeted nervously with the zip of his jacket. Constance headed off to the bar to buy Raymond’s drink.

  “Connie was delighted when you said you would come,” Judith began, “and I am too. How’s school?”

  Raymond shrugged.

  “I bet you can’t wait to be out of there. Just a couple more years.”

  He nodded again and his eyes moved listlessly around the bar. He wasn’t comfortable in unfamiliar places.

  “Are you going on to university?”

  “Yes, I am planning on applying to Cambridge to read maths. I was invited to speak to some professors there, you remember, you mentioned it in court.”

  “I thought you might. That’s great news. Has anyone talked to you about the case, about Mr Davis?”

  “When I got back to school, Mr Glover called me into his office. It was all a bit strange. He kind of cried.”

  “He cried?”

  “Yes. He said it must have been a terrible ordeal and that he had never believed I could’ve done it.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I thanked him for supporting me. He did, didn’t he?”

  “Yes he did.”

  “Then he told me he was leaving.”

  “Ah!” Judith sneaked a glance in Constance’s direction but she was still occupied at the bar.

  “He said he wanted another challenge but was leaving the school in good hands.”

  “Oh yes, I’m sure.”

  “I went to see Partram too.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I did.”