Chapter 13

(Monty)

I was having an early dinner with the family at the house on Dresden Row that evening. Little Dominic watched us, contentedly, from his high chair. Maura and I worked in the kitchen together, quite companionably, preparing the meal. I decided not to destroy that mood by asking questions, as curious and vexed as I was, about Dominic and the custody dispute with the boy’s father.

Maura issued her customary instructions: “Why don’t you go up and do some homework before supper, Normie.”

“In a minute! I want to watch Live at Five. They were out talking to people on Spring Garden Road with TV cameras. It was ATV, and me and Kim walked by, and we may get to see ourselves! I’m going to tape it.”

“What were you and Kim doing on Spring Garden Road?”

“We decided to walk that way instead of Morris Street.”

“You know you’re supposed to come straight home.”

“I know.” She pounded down to the den. “Here it is!” I heard the program come on, and it was obvious the homework would have to wait. “Aw! They’ve got something else on first! Oh, it’s Mr. Delaney again. There’s a picture of him.”

My ears perked up at that.

“There has been a new development in the murder case of renowned criminal lawyer Beau Delaney. A surprise witness has come forward in Mr. Delaney’s defence. Todd Webber has the story. Todd?”

I didn’t want any more surprises. I don’t like surprises in the middle of a trial, whether they’re billed as good news for the defence or not. That goes double for surprise witnesses. I made a beeline for the downstairs den, with Maura right behind me.

“Steve, I’m at the law courts where the young witness appeared, too late, as it turns out, for today’s proceedings, but the following days of the trial should be interesting. The witness, fifteen-year-old Corbett Reeves, says Mr. Delaney did not commit murder, and he, Corbett, can prove it. In other words, Steve, it sounds as if Corbett is an alibi witness for the accused lawyer.”

What? The face of a young man filled the screen. He had very light blond hair buzzed short on his skull. He spoke into the camera in a strange, high-pitched voice: “Me and Beau have a history together. And I know there’s no way he did any killing. I can tell the judge the truth.”

“Why have you just come forward now, Corbett?”

“I was somewhere else, and couldn’t be here till now. I’m just glad the trial’s still going on and I’m not too late.”

The reporter said: “Corbett Reeves lived with the Delaney family for some time, Steve, as a foster child. Mr. Delaney was not available for reaction, and we were unable to reach his lawyer, Monty Collins. Crown prosecutor Gail Kirk said she could not comment on today’s surprise turn of events. Steve?”

“Thanks, Todd. Now to Pictou County where our coverage of the Westray mine disaster continues. The families of the twenty-six miners . . .”

At that point Maura shooed Normie up into the kitchen with the assurance that she would call upstairs if Normie and Kim appeared on the screen. Given all the nightmares she’d been having, the last thing the child needed was to hear any more about the twenty-six dads, husbands, sons, and brothers who lost their lives when the Westray mine blew up the Saturday before. Maura, the daughter of a coal miner, was not in the best of shape watching the story; I put my arms around her and held her close. Neither of us spoke.

We heard Normie’s footsteps on the stairs again. She was wide-eyed at the sight of her parents in an embrace, but she made no comment.

Maura stepped back, and turned her attention to the lead item on the news. “What’s the story on this guy? You didn’t know about him?”

“His name came up in court today. Beau told me it was a foster placement that didn’t work out, so —”

“Yeah, it’s Corbett!” That was Normie.

“You’ve heard of this . . . Corbett before, Normie?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s old news.”

“Not to me, he isn’t.”

“Aw, what have they got on now?” She glared at the television as yet another story came on with no sign of the man-in-the-street interviews on Spring Garden Road.

“Normie, what do you know about Corbett Reeves?”

“He’s Jenny and Laurence’s brother. Or he was. But then he ran away. But it’s okay ’cause he’s back now. You guys be quiet, all right? They may have me and Kim on next.”

Maura and I left her with her dreams of stardom, and went up to the kitchen.

That’s when the phone rang. I grabbed it. “Yes?”

“I don’t appreciate this kind of showboating, Monty! Especially with our judge going out of town, and court in recess till next Monday. The jurors will have four days on their own to absorb this little stunt.” It was Gail Kirk.

“This isn’t my doing, Gail.”

“Justice Palmer just called me. He tried your home number. I suggested you might be at Maura’s, so expect a call. We’re to be in his chambers in half an hour.” Click.

I hung up, and the phone jangled in my hand. “Hello.”

“Monty, Ken Palmer here.”

“Yes, Ken.”

“You know why I’m calling.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“This is outrageous, Monty.”

“I know. I didn’t —”

“Save it for the conference in my chambers. Half an hour. I assume you’ll have your client with you.”

“I will. See you there.” Click.

I said to Maura: “Ken Palmer is wild, and no wonder. If Delaney engineered this, I’ll have his —”

I grabbed the phone and stabbed in Delaney’s number. I didn’t give him time to say hello. “What is this Reeves kid doing on the suppertime news, Beau? And how the hell am I going to explain this to the judge?”

“I had no idea the kid was going to appear. I thought he was gone for good.”

“Are you saying you didn’t put him up to this?”

“Of course I didn’t!”

“Well, you’d better come up with a good explanation before we see the judge twenty-five minutes from now.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“No fucking way you’re going in there without me. I’ll pick you up. Now. Be out there on the sidewalk when I arrive.” Click.

When Delaney got into my car, we both started talking at once. I prevailed. “I don’t have to tell you how bad this looks for us, sandbagging the prosecution and the court like this. Now what the fuck is going on?”

“I didn’t do this. I’m as surprised as you are. More, in fact, which you’d understand if you knew the kid.”

“I don’t. You do. Tell me.”

“All I’ll tell you is this: don’t put him on the stand.”

“Well, he’s already been on the news. The judge will be most anxious to know whether any of the jurors heard his testimony over the airwaves —”

“I don’t want a fucking mistrial, Monty, I want an acquittal!”

“Well then, Beau, if you believe in a higher power, you should commence prayer! Because I’d say the odds are against twelve jurors not hearing something about this. But let’s get focused here: why don’t you want this Corbett on the stand? If he had gone through proper channels, I mean. Were you with him that night? Is that what he’s saying?”

He hesitated, then said: “Whether I was or I wasn’t, we don’t want him in the trial.”

“Why not?”

“Corbett Reeves is bad news.”

“Well, he’s big news now. What am I supposed to say to the judge and the other side?”

“Say this had nothing to do with us, and the only witness we have left is me.”

We were at the law courts, and I pulled in to the parking garage under the building. I parked, wrenched the handbrake up, and got out of the car. I felt sick to my stomach, and wondered in passing how many of these criminal client surprises I could take before an ulcer put an end to my career.

We rode the elevator in silence. The Crown attorneys, Gail and Bill, were waiting outside Justice Palmer’s door, and Gail started in on us.

“Save it for the judge, Gail.”

Justice Palmer walked in shortly after that, and we followed him into his chambers. He sat, nodded at us all, and said: “Let’s hear it, Monty.”

“I want to assure you and Ms. Kirk and Mr. MacEwen that neither I nor my client had anything to do with this. I have never met, spoken to, or heard from Corbett Reeves in my life. Mr. Delaney was not aware the boy was even in town. This is not our doing, and we both regret that he went to the media with this claim.”

“But now that he is, so conveniently, here at this time,” Gail said, “why do I suspect I’m going to get notice of an alibi witness at this late date in the trial and —”

“We’re not going to call him.”

She was clearly taken aback by this. “There’s an alibi witness out there, or so we hear, and you’re not going to call him?”

I addressed my remarks to the judge. “We feel we do not need an alibi witness. There is no proof Mr. Delaney was home at or about the time Mrs. Delaney fell. He wasn’t there, and he will testify to that fact when he takes the stand.”

Gail said: “I have to wonder what’s going on, why you don’t want the court to hear this boy.”

“You needn’t concern yourself with the conduct of our case, Gail.”

Kenneth Palmer took control of the meeting then, and asked again for my assurance that this was not a stunt cooked up by the defence. I gave him that assurance and I knew he believed me. Bizarre human behaviour and grandstanding before the cameras were nothing new to Justice Palmer after fifteen years on the bench.

Gail spoke up again. “Our problem now is to find out whether the jurors saw this or heard about it. No doubt it will be in the papers tomorrow.”

“They have been instructed not to consider anything except what they see and hear in my courtroom. And that instruction will be repeated, with particular emphasis, when we resume next week.”

I didn’t get much sleep that night, wondering what accounted for the sudden appearance of Corbett Reeves. In spite of the fact that I’d been hauled into the judge’s chambers over it, the emergence of Reeves should have come as a relief. The former foster son alive and well was preferable to the former foster son lying dead at the foot of a set of stairs somewhere, an image that had come to me more than once since I first heard Corbett’s name. But why was Delaney reluctant to have him involved in the trial? Was he with Delaney the night of the murder? If so, what was going on that Delaney didn’t want told, even at the expense of losing an alibi witness in a murder trial? Where had Corbett been before Peggy’s death, and since?

I had my chance to ask him the next day. Brennan and I had a quick lunch and a draft at the Midtown, and we walked back to my office together. When we arrived, I saw the pale figure of Corbett Reeves slouched against the building. He was of medium height and slight build; he looked older than fifteen. He watched us approach. Up close, I saw that his eyes were of a very light shade of greenish grey; I had never seen eyes with so little colour.

I spoke to him. “Corbett Reeves, I presume?”

“Are you Beau’s lawyer?” His voice was soft, but somehow strained. It grated on my ears.

“I am,” I replied.

He put his hand out, and I shook it.

“Did you see me on the news?”

“I did.”

“Good news for you guys, eh?”

“Well, we’ll talk about that. I assume you were waiting for me.”

“The girl said you were out for lunch.”

“The girl?”

“The one at the desk.”

“The receptionist.”

“Yeah, right. Who’s this?” He turned his attention to Brennan, who was dressed in a shirt and sports jacket. “Has Beau got a whole team of lawyers?”

“This is Father Burke. Corbett Reeves.”

They shook hands. Burke’s black eyes bored into the pale eyes of the young man. Reeves tried to pull his hand away but Burke had it in his grasp. They stood there for several seconds. Burke finally released the newcomer, never taking his gaze off him. Without turning to me, Burke said: “Call me if you need me for anything, Monty.”

When the priest had gone, Reeves said: “Let’s go in your office and get down to business.”

“Very well.”

He followed me inside, and we went up in the elevator to the offices of Stratton Sommers. Reeves plunked himself down in my client chair, and crossed his legs. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one up, and said: “Okay if I smoke?”

“No.”

He shrugged, wet the thumb and finger of his left hand and used them to extinguish the burning tip of the cigarette. He didn’t flinch. He blew the ash on the floor, and put the cigarettes away.

“I’m pretty famous around here today, right?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you have to say?”

“What’s Beau saying his alibi was that night?” He spoke lazily and his face was set in an expression of nonchalance, but I noticed that his left leg, crossed over the right, was jiggling non-stop.

“Never mind what my client told me. Let me hear your story.”

“I can get him off.”

I wasn’t going to bite on that. “Why wait so long to come forward?”

“I’ve been out of town.”

“Where?”

His face took on a cagey look, and he didn’t reply. A state secret, it must have been.

“And you’ve returned with the idea of testifying for Mr. Delaney?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Go on.”

“Me and Beau go way back. Maybe he didn’t tell you about it.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to admit he needs me.”

“Needs you how?”

The boy leaned forward. The shaking leg banged against my desk. “His life is in my hands!”

“Corbett, either tell me your story, or let me get on with my work.”

“You want the facts? I’ve got the facts. Put me on the stand!”

Corbett obviously had a limited understanding of what a defence lawyer wanted in a trial. Sometimes the facts were not on the wish list at all, or anywhere near it.

“Listen to me, Corbett. I’m not going to call you to testify.”

“What? Are you crazy? He needs me! He fucking needs me to get him off!”

“No, he doesn’t.” The last thing Delaney needed was this kid with his delusions that I would put him on the witness stand without knowing what his testimony would be. I suspected that if I knew what he was going to say, I’d have him kidnapped and bundled out of the country till the trial was over. I didn’t know what he was up to, but he wasn’t going to play out his drama on my time, in my trial, to the detriment of my client. “It’s not going to happen, Corbett.”

“Fuck you! I’m going in there!” Reeves erupted out of his seat and stood over me, trembling. His pale face had turned red with anger. “You can’t stop me, you fucking asshole!”

“I can, and I will. Now sit down and get yourself under control here. Where are you staying? I’ll drop you off —”

He came behind my desk and lunged at me, grabbing me around the throat. I bolted up, gripped his hands, and wrenched them off me. He tried to butt me with his head, and I wrestled him to the floor. I held him down with my hands on his shoulders. He raised his right foot to kick me, and I twisted out of reach.

“You get yourself under control right now, Corbett, or I’ll have you arrested. Got that? Now are you going to behave yourself if I let you up?”

“Let me go, for fuck’s sake. I want to get out of here! You’re some useless lawyer. I wouldn’t get you to defend me!”

“Just as well, considering that I’m the victim of your little outburst here. Now get up and get lost. And don’t let me see you around here or at the courthouse.”

I stepped back, and he stumbled towards the door, then ran away.

Brennan called me later that day to see what Reeves had to say. I filled him in, and said I was glad to see the back of the kid.

“That makes two of us. I looked into that young fellow’s eyes, and I didn’t like what I saw there. Or what I didn’t see.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something missing in him. It gave me a chill just looking at him and touching his hand.”

(Normie)

The mystery of the missing brother was solved without me figuring it out. Corbett was back, and he was even on TV. He said he knew Mr. Delaney didn’t do the killing because he was with him, Corbett with Mr. Delaney, that night. Wow! That was good news. Daddy was so happy about it, he gave Mummy a big hug. I drew a picture of them in my diary, smooching in front of the TV! And I couldn’t wait to see Jenny and Laurence. On the Friday before the holiday weekend, we were all going to the Commons for a Gaelic football game between our school and St. Kevin’s. Me and Jenny and Laurence and Kim were going to watch it together. So I would get a chance to ask about Corbett. The mysterious Corbett.

Kim and I were the first ones there, so we got to sit on the front bench to watch the game. We kind of spread out and saved room for Jenny and Laurence without looking like we were doing it.

It was really cool seeing our team in their uniforms. They are green and white with a little bit of gold on them, and a picture of a golden harp. So our team is called the Harps because of the picture. Father Burke got them sent over from Ireland, and also got the St. Kevin’s uniforms for them. Their colours are white and blue with no picture. They decided on the name “St. Ks.” Our team was all lined up on the field, so Monsignor O’Flaherty could take a picture of them. Everybody looked great except Richard Robertson. He had a big, lumpy, ugly brown sweater over his uniform. His mother made him wear it so he wouldn’t catch a chill. But it wasn’t even cold out. There was his mum gawking at the team and looking mad. Father Burke saw her, and then he went over to Monsignor and talked to him.

Monsignor said: “Good heavens, Father. I think I’m out of film here. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Go ahead and get warmed up.” So he left and went to his car.

Mrs. Robertson growled at Richard: “Richard. The time is three forty-five. I’ll be back here at five o’clock on the dot, and I’ll expect you to be ready to leave for Monsieur” — that’s his French tutor — “at that time. Be careful. If you fall ill, or if you so much as injure your little finger, as a result of this escapade, we’ll have to call a family meeting to rethink our decision to let you play.” She turned to leave, and gave Father Burke some kind of a look, which I couldn’t see. He just looked back at her, and went over and started talking to the team. As soon as Richard’s mum was out of sight, Richard took the sweater off. That’s when Monsignor O’Flaherty came back with the camera. He must have put film in it. Or maybe him and Father Burke made up the thing about the film, so Richard could be in the picture and not look like a dork.

The players for both sides had to warm up first, by running around and practising. I kept turning around and looking for Jenny and Laurence, but they weren’t there. Other people wanted to squeeze onto the bench with me and Kim and some other kids, so I didn’t know how much longer we could save the seats. One little guy sat down beside us. He had dark curly hair and glasses and he was really cute. I thought I recognized him as being the little brother of one of the guys at school, Asher. I’m glad we made room for him. But then I finally saw Jenny and Laurence. And it wasn’t just them. Corbett was there too. He looked smaller than he did on TV, but it was him. I waved, and they came over.

“We saved your spots, but there may not be room now,” I told them.

“There’s room,” Corbett said. He had a weird voice, kind of high and painful. Or at least it sounded as if it was painful to talk. He sat down practically on top of Asher’s little brother, and ended up knocking him off the bench.

Jenny said we should find places at the back, but Corbett told her not to worry about it, just sit down. The little boy who fell off gave Corbett a dirty look and tried to get back on, but Corbett wouldn’t let him. He said: “Get out of my way, Joo-boy.” I don’t know why he called him that, but it sounded mean. Then Corbett didn’t pay any more attention to him, so he went and sat behind us.

“This is Corbett and that’s Normie,” Jenny said.

“Hi, Corbett.”

He kind of made a noise but didn’t really say hi.

“Normie’s dad is Mr. Collins, Dad’s lawyer for the trial.”

Then he turned sideways on the bench and looked at me. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell him I want to be in the trial.”

“Uh, how come? Was it what you said on TV? That you know Mr. Delaney didn’t do it?”

“Something like that. I want to get up there and tell the judge where Beau really was that night. He can thank me later.”

“Well, that sounds good. Right, Jenny? He should be up there on the witness stand, telling the truth.”

“Yeah. That’s what I should do,” Corbett said and then he gave this creepy laugh that sounded like his voice, painful.

Father Burke’s head whipped around, and he looked right at us. Right at Corbett. He glared at him for a good long time, before he turned back to the team, and told them the game was going to start.

The game was really exciting even if this was our first season for Gaelic football and the players were just learning, and dropping the ball a lot. But maybe they were supposed to. There were a bunch of rules saying what you could do with the ball and what you couldn’t. You could pick it up with your foot somehow and boot it into your hands, but then you had to do other things with it; you couldn’t just keep hold of it and go. There were two referees and they had to run up and down the field after the players. I remember Father Burke saying there was supposed to be a whole bunch of referees and other guys in charge of the game, but he could only find two. It was a great big deal when our guys, the Harps, made a goal. But then the St. Ks tied it up with a goal of their own. All the kids on the benches were cheering and whistling and clapping, except for Corbett. He must have thought the game wasn’t very good. It was weird; every once in while, Father Burke would look over at Corbett and fix him with a fierce look in his eyes. He probably thought Corbett was a stranger.

It was really fun having this new team to cheer for. We have basketball and volleyball, and I’m going to play on the volleyball team next year. But this was our only outdoor sport, and it was fun to watch it on a bright, sunny day. Even more fun when the Harps got another goal and won the match. I turned to Corbett to say: “See, we’re good!” But he was gone. I never even heard him leave.