‘This is nauseating,’ Casey said.
‘Did Bernie ever respond?’ I asked.
‘It doesn’t look like it. Not by email anyway. But before the case started Bernie told me he was going to have to split the money three ways. He said he’d negotiated with a guy who could bring the case down and they agreed that if the guy forgot his evidence, and convinced Claudia to shut up too, Rodney and Bernie would cut him in.’
‘So Bernie bought Webb’s silence?’ Casey asked.
‘That’s what Webb thought,’ Annie said. ‘But now that Bernie has a huge compo award, he and Rodney have got greedy. They don’t want to give Webb a cut.’
‘But can’t Webb turn them in?’ Jacinta asked.
‘I don’t know what Bernie and Rodney have in mind. I don’t know how they think they can avoid Webb. And that’s it. All I know. Use it however you want. I hate that pig and I hope he rots in hell.’
‘Thank you,’ Casey said. She turned to Jacinta and me and, with a sigh, asked us to tell her everything we knew.
‘Do we have blanket immunity for all we did?’ I said with a grin.
‘Yes. I won’t tell . . . if you won’t tell, you know, about the fake meeting minutes we used in court.’
‘Deal,’ I said.
And then she smiled and I realised she wasn’t all gum and fangs, like I had thought.
Jacinta and I filled Casey in on all that had happened and she took notes. We had to break people’s confidences: Claudia, Harry, the neighbour in Chatsbury who wanted nothing to do with what she’d heard in the car park. But Casey assured us that she would deal with them delicately and promised no harm would come to them.
‘Will I be in trouble?’ Annie asked, when Casey finally put down her pen.
‘I’m sure we can work something out,’ Casey said.
‘Will they all go to jail for this?’
Casey reached over for the wallet of papers. ‘I’ll do everything I can to make sure they don’t get away with it,’ she said grimly. ‘If it’s tough Bernie wants, that’s what he’ll get.’
Amit needed to be updated on all that had happened. Jacinta suggested we all have dinner that night and before I knew what I was doing I had invited them to my place.
Jacinta was sitting next to Nadine, Amit next to me. Dad had taken the day off as he was in between cases. On hearing that a girl was coming over he decided to cook up some traditional Egyptian food. Given that the law was his life, attempting to cook was just pointless. As I expected, he spent most of the time on the phone to Aunt Nirvine (I know because I was fixing up the files in her office that afternoon when he was calling, harassing her about recipes and ingredients).
The result was some okay-looking but terrible-tasting dishes which reminded me of Nonna’s cooking (my grandmother was also a terrible cook; I think she prided herself on defying the stereotype of the ethnic matriarch).
I couldn’t believe Jacinta was in my house. I’d taken Nadine and Mary aside and warned them that if they embarrassed me I’d ruin their lives forever. At first they thought I was joking. So I casually explained to Nadine that I’d personally see to it that the diary she kept wrapped in a floral pillowcase in her pyjamas drawer would be photocopied and distributed to her entire year level. As for Mary, I told her that the love poems she had written for Edward in the Twilight series would be emailed to everybody in Dad’s email address book.
Their complete and utter cooperation was bought.
That left Dad.
I was killing myself with worry, wondering how he would behave at dinner. Would he break out into a history of the common law, starting with a recitation of the Magna Carta, knowing that Jacinta was an eager law student? I felt like chucking up just thinking of how badly it might go.
‘So, Jacinta, Noah tells me you’re studying law. You’ve made the best choice.’
‘I think so, too, Mr Nabulsi.’ Was she gushing? ‘Would you mind telling me about the day you were awarded the title of Queen’s Counsel? How did it feel?’
There was no mistaking the rush of nervous energy at the table. Amit, Nadine, Mary and I looked at each other, terrified. We’d all heard the story countless time. If we had to go through it one more time, hearing about how Dad had experienced—
‘—the fourth most memorable day of my life,’ he said, slowly putting down his fork and folding his hands together. ‘Nothing can surpass the birth of one’s children, of course, but becoming a QC was the next best thing.’
Nadine, Mary and I were mouthing his speech. We’d heard it so many times any one of us could have recited it. Amit, who was the only one who appeared to be enjoying the overcooked bamia and stringy mulukhiyah, was able to distract us with the sound of his loud and enthusiastic chewing.
After dinner, Nadine and Mary generously offered to wash the dishes (I had them scared big time), and I took Amit and Jacinta to the rumpus room.
‘So what happened?’ Amit asked.
It took us ages to explain it all. Of course, Amit’s tendency to interrupt with random comments (‘Was Annie’s mole a birthmark or a cancerous growth?’) didn’t exactly speed up the process.
‘I wonder what dirt Webb has on Bernie?’ Amit said, when we’d finally finished.
‘Annie told us,’ Jacinta said. ‘The compo rort and stuff.’
‘But didn’t he say in one of those emails that he knows a whole lot more?’
‘Maybe he knows Bernie killed Maureen,’ I said.
‘So you think he actually killed her?’ Jacinta said, sitting up in her chair. ‘Because you said that pretty casually.’
‘Yep,’ I said. ‘I’ve got zero doubt. He wanted her out of the picture.’
‘You know what? I reckon he did too,’ Jacinta said. ‘It makes sense. Webb must have known about it.’
‘That doesn’t make sense,’ Amit said. ‘If Webb knew, and Bernie knew Webb knew, then I doubt Bernie would be stupid enough to piss Webb off. And going back on a deal to give him a third of the payout would piss Webb off bad, especially after he backed down in the witness box to save the case.’
‘Mmm . . .’ I murmured. ‘You’ve got a point.’
‘It all comes down to what dirt Webb had on Bernie,’ Jacinta said. ‘And Annie told us all she knows, so what other possible way could we find out?’
We spent the next hour throwing around suggestions. We shouldn’t have bothered. We should have gone to the cinema or headed to the local pool to watch Jacinta swim – I mean, for all of us to go for a swim. Because on Monday morning, while Jacinta and I were sorting the latest stationery order into piles and arguing over which TV legal series had the best ensemble cast, Casey rushed into the spare office, slammed the door behind her and, her face flushed, her eyes bright, cried out: ‘Bernie’s been arrested!’
There are miracles. And then there’s Casey being civil and almost pleasant.
I was in shock. She’d actually invited me to accompany her to the police station where Bernie was being held. Not only that, she was speaking to me without making me feel like a piece of dirt under her shoe.
‘Bernie wants me to represent him,’ she said, as I stood beside her outside the police station while she finished two cigarettes in a row. ‘He trusts me. He has no idea that I know about his scheme. Let’s play on that.’
‘But why has he been arrested? Did he say?’
‘I already told you: I advised him not to say a word over the phone.’ She took another drag of her cigarette.
‘Didn’t I tell you he was a scumbag?’
‘Ever heard of innocent until proven guilty? It’s the foundation of our criminal justice system.’
‘He’s as guilty as sin.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ She looked at me side-on. ‘But you’re always the expert, aren’t you, Noah?’
I gave her a cheeky smile. ‘If it wasn’t for me, he’d be getting away with it.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re so full of it. Well, I suppose a little arrogance is warranted gi
ven your father’s status—’
I immediately cut her off. ‘Why are you so hung up about my dad being a QC? It’s totally irrelevant. At least give me the credit for my arrogance. After all, I did solve the case.’
‘There you go again.’
‘Can’t you even admit that I did well?’
‘Okay, okay. You did well. Congratulations.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That was inspiring.’
She looked uncomfortable. ‘Look, I might not be a warm person; that’s just who I am. You sit there and read bitch into my words, when I’m just being straight and – yes, okay, I admit it – abrupt. But I take my job seriously and I don’t like going to the office to waste my time chatting about people’s love lives, weekends, what they had for dinner and how many calories it contained. It’s just who I am.’
‘I have never talked calorie counting,’ I said indignantly.
She laughed. ‘Anyway, do we really have to do this whole personality-analysing thing? It’s so Hollywood.’
‘Hey, that’s pretty funny,’ I said incredulously. ‘Well done.’
She raised an eyebrow at me. ‘You know, I have to say if you were a qualified lawyer, I would really enjoy arguing a case against you.’
‘Well, don’t hold your breath. Give me a couple of years.’
‘A couple is a little optimistic, given you still haven’t obtained your higher school certificate. Anyway, let’s go in.’
The police let us enter Bernie’s cell to talk to him before they interviewed him.
‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said breathlessly as he saw Casey approaching.
I’d never seen him look so anxious. It was bloody fantastic.
Then he saw me and frowned as the officer let us into the cell. ‘What the hell is he doing here?’ he demanded. ‘He’s been sabotaging my case! Helping out the defendant!’
I remained silent, as I’d agreed with Casey.
‘He’s been reprimanded,’ Casey said. ‘Let’s just focus on the problem at hand.’
He scowled at me but I kept my cool. I was looking forward to bringing him down once and for all.
‘So what’s all this about?’ Casey asked, sitting down on the bench and opening her notebook.
‘They want to question me about Maureen’s murder. Can you believe it?!’
‘Tell us what’s happened,’ Casey said.
‘Can you get me out on bail?’ he cried.
‘You haven’t been charged yet so you may be released when the interview is concluded,’ Casey said coolly. ‘If you are charged, then yes, I will try to get you out on bail. But if it’s a murder charge, I consider it highly unlikely that a bail application will succeed.’
‘I can’t be charged! I didn’t do it!’
‘So tell me everything,’ Casey said.
He looked down at his hands. ‘I’ve done a lot of lying in the past but you have to believe me now. I swear I’m telling the truth. I didn’t kill Maureen!’
‘Well why have you been arrested?’
‘The cops found my car. Maureen’s shoe was in it. I’ve been framed.’
My ears pricked up.
‘What do you mean found?’ I asked.
Bernie flashed me an angry look. ‘Why the hell is he—’
‘Just answer the question, Bernie,’ Casey snapped.
Bernie seemed to be thinking.
Casey was not impressed. ‘You either trust us or we can leave you to languish in this cell. Decide now!’
‘Fine,’ he said with a scowl. ‘The cops got a tip-off that led them to me car. It was stolen the day of Maureen’s murder. But I didn’t ever report it to the cops.’
‘It’s a dark Ford, right?’ I said.
He looked at me with suspicious eyes. ‘Midnight blue, yeah. How do you know?’
‘Why didn’t you report it?’ I asked, not bothering to respond to his question.
‘Because . . .’ His eyes were downcast, his head slightly lowered. ‘I was near Jenkins Storage World the afternoon Maureen was killed. I wanted to talk to her. Sort things out.’
Bull crap, I thought.
‘Explain every detail and don’t leave a thing out,’ Casey warned.
Bernie took a deep breath. ‘I parked in the alleyway off Paisley Road—’
I jumped in. ‘Which one?’
Bernie darted an annoyed look at Casey. ‘Is he going to keep interrupting?’
‘I’m just making sure you don’t lie again,’ I said. ‘Trust me, I’ll catch you out if you do.’
‘Answer,’ Casey ordered.
‘The one that runs along the apartment block next door to the car park.’
‘Okay, go on.’
‘I was planning on calling Maureen. I was going to ask her to meet me at the back of the shop, in the car park, for a quick chat.’
‘What time was this?’ Casey asked.
‘Around four. Anyway, I called the shop and Rodney answered. I asked to speak to Maureen. But then I chickened out. I told him not to worry, not to put me through to her. Maureen and I had been through a real rough patch. I didn’t have the guts to talk things through, to say sorry.’
Casey looked at me. I could tell she wasn’t swallowing Bernie’s lies either.
‘He asked me where I was. I told him and he said he’d come out, which he did. He tried to talk me out of leaving. Said I really needed to work things out with Maureen. He convinced me. Then he left.’
‘Did he go back to the shop?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. But I saw him leave at about quarter to five.’
I frowned. ‘How did you see if you were in your car in the alleyway?’
‘I wasn’t. By then I’d gone to the car park. I was hiding in the doorway of the next-door shop, the noodle place. I didn’t want anybody from Jenkins to see me. I was going to meet Maureen on her way out, once she finished work.’ He suddenly looked frightened. ‘She came out just after five. I saw her walk towards the back of the car park, to the corner. But I lost my nerve . . . She was out of sight then. I decided I’d just go home. That’s when I heard her scream. I ran away . . .’
Casey looked horrified.
‘Through the noodle shop?’ I asked, confident of what his response would be.
He looked surprised. ‘Yeah, how did you know?’
‘You were there when she was being killed,’ I said angrily, ‘but decided to do a runner!’
‘So you can see why I never reported my stolen car to the police,’ he said, either missing or ignoring my disgusted tone. ‘If I’d told them about my car they would have known I was there. They would never believe I didn’t kill her.’
Casey took a deep breath and fixed Bernie with a stern look. ‘When did you find out your car had been stolen?’
‘Not immediately. I ran through the noodle shop. I waited on a side street off High Street for about ten minutes. I couldn’t risk walking down Paisley Road while Maureen . . .’
‘Was being murdered,’ I spat.
He refused to meet my glare. ‘And I couldn’t risk waiting around longer than that ’cause I guessed it wouldn’t be too long before the cops would be crawling all around. When I did decide to go back to my car, I crossed over Paisley Road from the High Street intersection so that I’d at least be on the opposite end of the road. Then I crossed back near the alley. But my car was gone.’
‘Did you leave your keys in it?’ Casey asked, confused.
‘Nah.’
‘It’s not difficult,’ I said.
Casey looked alarmed.
‘Play with the wires, swap the ignition barrel – although that would mean it was premeditated ’cause you’d need to have an ignition barrel to replace—’
Casey put her hands up to silence me. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘And me,’ Bernie said.
‘The thief would probably have played with the wires to get the car to start. Old Fords are easy to start up.’
‘But why my car?’ Bernie asked. ‘The thief
kills Maureen and then conveniently finds my car? And I’m the husband of the victim? That’s a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’
‘Rodney knew where you were parked,’ I said.
‘But he had an alibi,’ Bernie said. ‘He was at a pub in Darlinghurst by then and there are plenty of people who could vouch for him being there.’
‘Who else knew you were visiting?’ Casey asked.
‘Nobody.’
‘When you told Rodney where you were parked,’ I said, ‘was he at the shop?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And was he alone?’
‘How am I supposed to know?’
‘Did you hear any voices in the background?’ Casey asked.
‘Well, he asked me to repeat what I’d said because the back ground was a bit noisy and he couldn’t hear me that well.’
I looked at him and he must have realised my words were dripping in cynicism because, in a panicked voice, he said: ‘Don’t you believe me? I swear I didn’t kill her!’
‘I know you didn’t,’ I said as the pieces of the puzzle came together in my mind. ‘Harold Webb did.’
‘Webb?’
‘Casey, can I speak to you outside for a sec?’
We had the guard let us out of the cell, leaving Bernie in an agitated state.
‘What’s going on?’ Casey said anxiously.
‘I think everything he’s told us so far is the truth. Except for the reason why he was there.’
‘By that you mean to meet Maureen and try to patch things up with her?’
‘Yeah. They live together. If he wanted to talk, he could have done it at home, or after work, not at four o’clock. And you don’t have a quick chat when you have major marriage problems. I don’t buy that.’
‘Neither do I. Especially given we both know he hated her.’
‘More than hate. He wanted her out of the picture. He needed her out of the picture, or he’d lose all his compo.’
‘Actually, if she exposed him he’d also be forced to pay it all back and could possibly have been up for criminal charges.’ She paused. ‘So you think he killed her?’
‘No. And here’s why. That Bad Samaritan neighbour I told you about said she saw a tall guy run from the car park. She had no reason to make that up. She hid and watched him enter the alleyway next to the apartment blocks. Then, about five minutes later, she saw him drive off in a dark Ford. She specifically said the guy was tall.’
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