19

 

Niamh walked down the halls with Toby, their footsteps echoing in the high vaulted chambers of the Crown Court. “Can we do that?”

“Alan seems to thinks so.”

“But if the judge rules it as inadmissible, then where does it leave us?”

“We’ve still got enough on DNA evidence alone.”

“So why risk using the note at all? Surely proving he was paid to do this is only going to play into the defense’s hands?”

“Not if we do it right. It makes him a coldblooded killer. Not a heat of the moment thing.”

Niamh tucked her hair behind her ears. “Killing someone like this could hardly be described as an impulse murder.”

“Exactly. If you were told to take someone out what’s the easiest way?”

“I don’t know.” She shifted the files in her arms. “Bullet between the eyes, or run them over.” Or cut their brake line perhaps.

“And if you were told to do this to someone?”

Niamh stopped and lowered her voice. “What if they then turn around and say he didn’t have a choice? That Acre had something on him or he’d kill his wife or kids or dog if he didn’t comply?”

“Then why didn’t he come to us? Niamh, think about it. They’ve got to you, they got to your files, and they got to your witnesses all throughout the Acre trial. And now the same things are happening again. Not so much the files since we moved your office to the goldfish bowl, but…”

“Other stuff,” Niamh finished.

Toby held her gaze. “The notes are the same. Same writing, same pen. Just don’t bring the ones you’ve received into the equation. Just mention the one Mrs. Luckett got.”

“All right.”

He smiled and held open the courtroom door for her. “Then let’s go bag us another bad guy.”

Twenty minutes into the pre-trial evidence, Niamh got exactly the reaction she was expecting.

Miles Kingsman rose to his feet. “Objection, My Lord. We all get letters through the post. The fact Mrs. Luckett did isn’t at all relevant to this case.”

“Mrs. Harkin?” Judge Matheson peered at her over the top of his glasses.

“It is very relevant, My Lord. If this letter can prove that Mr. Jankowski received instructions from a convicted criminal to murder Mrs. Luckett, then it is very relevant indeed.”

Miles sneered at her. “If you can prove he was on the take? Is that really the best you can come up with?”

She shot him back a withering glare of her own. “My starter for ten.”

“I’ll allow it for now. Go on, Mrs. Harkin. Present your evidence.”

Niamh nodded. She glanced up at the public gallery, making sure Patrick was there. The judge was playing his part to perfection. All she needed to do was play hers and soon this whole thing would be over. One slip up and it would be her neck on the line rather than that of the guilty party.

She picked up the file and opened it. “Mrs. Luckett was the primary witness in the case of Jonathan Acre. My Lord will remember the case from a couple of months back. She’d originally agreed to testify, and then changed her mind. Mrs. Luckett was concerned for her safety and with good reason. I managed to persuade her to give evidence. As soon as she appeared in court, Mr. Acre changed his plea to guilty. On her way out of court, Mrs. Luckett gave me a note, a death threat.”

Miles was on his feet again. “And just when did this snippet of information come your way? Begging Your Honor’s pardon, but my learned friend was in a very nasty car crash and doesn’t remember the case to which she keeps referring. Hence the case-file on the desk in front of her.”

“Mr. Kingsman, could you remember every single detail of every case you’ve worked on over the last say six months?” Judge Matheson asked.

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. You would brush up on your notes, refer to documents, just as you are doing right now. Just as every lawyer I have ever come across does during every single case to ensure the defendant gets a fair trial. Please continue, Mrs. Harkin.”

Niamh pulled the letter from the file. “Exhibit A, My Lord. A letter given to Mrs. Luckett stating that if she gave evidence against Mr. Acre, she would die.” She handed the letter in its protective covering to the court official. He in turn handed it to Judge Matheson. Niamh continued speaking. “A murder we know was carried out by Mr. Jankowski.”

Judge Matheson glanced over the letter.

“That proves nothing,” Miles objected.

“It proves your client knows the defendant in the trial Mrs. Luckett testified in,” Niamh responded quickly.

“I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Niamh glanced across at the defense bench, in time to see Miles sit and write something on the file in front of him. Her breathing caught, and her stomach twisted at the sight of the slanted letters, and the calligraphy pen.

It can’t be. Even though the evidence was mounting and was past the point of suspicion, to suddenly see the same handwriting appearing in front of her, worried and disappointed her.

Miles raised his head and met her gaze. His smirk sent shivers of terror down her spine. He stood and started speaking.

Niamh gripped the desk in front of her as his voice faded.

She sat at her desk, the letter Gina Luckett had received in her hand. The slant was exactly the same. Precise penmanship, care taken to ensure every single letter was perfect. If only she could remember where she’d seen it before. And it wasn’t the ones addressed to her either.

A slow knock on the door frame brought her back to reality. She glanced up to see Toby Croft standing there watching her. “Hey, Toby.”

“Problems?” He uncurled his long frame and moved towards her.

Niamh smiled and shoved the letter into a file, closing it. “No. Just checking through a couple of things before filing this.”

“Congratulations on winning the Acre case this morning. One really bad guy off the streets.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, this came through for you. Depositions from Miles Kingsman’s next client. I’m beginning to think he only chooses your cases. Either that or he likes losing.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me.” She opened the file. Miles’s perfect copperplate handwriting adorned the page. Slanted, black, calligraphy. An exact match for the death threats in the file on her desk.

Every nerve in her body tightened. She straightened, sucking in a deep breath as if it were her last. Everything made sense now.

“Is Alan in?”

“No. Why?”

“I know who’s sending the letters. And I know why.” She gathered her papers. “I’ll go lock these away and see him first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll give you a hand.”

“—and I’m sure you’ll agree that would be a grave miscarriage of justice,” Miles concluded.

Niamh raised her eyes to Patrick, bile rising in her throat. Toby knew as much as she did before the car crash. She picked up the glass of water and sipped it before replacing it on the other side of her files. A sign that she needed a break. Fortunately, the judge was paying attention.

“Mr. Kingsman, do you have anything more to add?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Then you may present your evidence tomorrow. The last thing we want is a grave miscarriage of justice. We’ll reconvene here at ten o’clock.” He stood and picked up his files.

“All rise,” intoned the court clerk.

Niamh rose with everyone else as Judge Matheson left the court. Miles gathered his papers and hurried from the room. Niamh made to follow him, but Toby caught her arm.

“Wait a minute.” He let go of her arm. “Nice one. I doubt I could have pulled it off so well.”

“Sure you could.” She gathered her papers and shoved them in her briefcase.

“Are you all right? You seem a little on edge.”

“I’m fine. Patrick will want me out of here quickly.” A glance up at the public gallery showed her brother had already left.

“I’ll see you later.”

Niamh made her way swiftly to the robing room. She opened her locker, for an instant glad only Miles was in there. “That’s an interesting pen you have.”

“Oh?”

“Calligraphy, isn’t it? A little unusual for everyday use.”

“Ah, yes. I always use one. My English professor insisted good penmanship would open doors to high places. Why the interest?”

“I was just wondering.”

Miles was in her face in less than five seconds. “You need to be careful what you see and wonder about, Niamh. Sometimes it’s better to be like one of the three wise monkeys. See nothing, hear nothing, and say nothing. Sometimes you should just drop things and walk away.”

It was as if an arctic blast issued from his mouth. Every hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end. Inside her inner voice was screaming, get out, raise the alarm, but she was frozen to the spot. “Are you threatening me?”

“Haven’t we had this conversation? Only it was the other way around? I don’t make threats, I make promises. And besides, why would I do that? And here would be a little stupid wouldn’t it? In a building full of lawyers.”

He leaned away as the door opened and Toby came in. “So I hear you’re getting remarried on Saturday?”

Niamh found herself able to move and shoved her robe and wig into the locker. “Yes, we are.”

“Well, all the best. Perhaps you’ll be a better wife than lawyer.” Miles walked away, leaving a frigid atmosphere behind him.

Toby opened his locker. “What was that all about?”

“Just Miles being, well, Miles.”

“Don’t lie to me. He was giving you grief over something.”

Niamh pulled on her coat. “It’s him. Same writing, same pen. And he warned me to drop it and walk away.”

Toby stiffened. “Go home. I’ll sort things from here.”

“It’s not your problem, Toby. It’s mine.”

“Go home, Niamh.” His voice hardened and his eyes glinted. “I’ll talk to Alan. This will all be over tomorrow.”

Can I trust him, Lord? Do I have any other options? I don’t think I do.

“OK. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

****

 

Jared came home and tossed his jacket over the banisters. “Niamh?” There was no answer. The air was filled with the smell of cooking. He moved through the hallway and pushed open the kitchen door. “Hon?” She wasn’t there but the table had been laid for two and there were candles on it. He wandered over to the oven and peeked inside. Dinner was almost done by the looks of it and the two pans on the stove were simmering gently.

Niamh came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “Hey, handsome.”

He turned in her arms and kissed her with as much passion as he could find. “Hey, good looking. What are you cooking?” His singing was flat, off key, and he knew he’d gotten the words wrong, but he didn’t care.

She kissed him back. “Dinner. Roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, and all the accompanying vegetables, including cauliflower cheese.”

“Roast dinner on a week night? You’re spoiling me.”

“Well, you’re moving into Liam’s tomorrow until the wedding, so I’m not going to see you. I’m going to miss you. Although as it’s technically a remarriage, maybe that bit doesn’t count and you can stay here.”

Jared kissed her. “Niamh, this does count. You still don’t remember the first wedding or the first eight years of our marriage. But if you’d rather I didn’t sleep at Liam’s its fine. It’s not like we share a room or anything.” He winked at her. “Yet.”

“It’s OK. Patrick has no plans to move out for the foreseeable future so I’m not alone. Just wish this work thing was over. But it should be by tomorrow.”

His interest piqued. “Oh? You got a lead?”

“Concrete proof. So tomorrow, one way or the other.”

Jared hugged her. “That’s great, hon.” He glanced around the room. “Speaking of Patrick, where is he?”

“He’s gone over to Liam’s. He said we have two hours and not a minute longer. We do however have an armed cop in a car on the driveway. I’m also wearing a panic button.”

“That’s better than nothing.” He paused. “Hang on, wearing a panic button? Where can’t I touch you?”

Niamh laughed. “You’re quite safe I assure you.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I’m never safe with you around. You’re the blue touch paper to my heart.”

She arched her neck a little, giving him more access. “How did I cope with this before?”

“Me kissing your neck?” He pulled back and looked at her. “You’d usually reciprocate.”

“Work, silly, not you.”

“Oh, right. Well, you’d hide behind that nasty manner of yours.”

“I must have been horrible.”

Jared kissed her. “You could be. I loved you then, and I love you even more now.”

“Glad about that.”

“Me, too.” He took a deep breath. “Dinner smells wonderful.”

“Hopefully it tastes wonderful and you like it.”

“I like everything you cook.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Go shower and let me start to dish up. You have ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes?” he teased.

“Nine and a half now,” she said, laughing at him.

He headed back into the hall and took the stairs two at a time. He showered quickly and went back downstairs to find the candles lit and two plates on the table.

Niamh looked up from pouring the sparkling grape juice. “That was fast.”

“I can be,” he said sitting down. “This looks wonderful.” He paused. “This was the first thing you ever cooked for me.”

She looked over at him as she sat. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s always been one of my favorites.” He watched the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, then took her hands and said grace. He took a mouthful of the juice, and then put the glass down picking up his knife and fork. “I thought I was going to lose you. That shout shattered my world.”

She looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Hon, you didn’t ask for that car to hit you or for your brakes not to work. I just wasn’t expecting to find you in that RTC.”

“But you did lose me. Well, you lost the woman you married, the one you spent eight years with.”

He shook his head, chewing slowly. “She’s right here still. Oh, things are a little different now tis true. For example, she sleeps in a different room, but at least I don’t hear her snoring.”

“You beast.” she said poking her tongue out at him. “I do not snore.”

Jared laughed. “You see. That is your normal retort for me insulting you. Which incidentally makes you a beast’s wife.”

“Surely it should make me Beauty if you’re the Beast.”

“Ha, ha, ha. In that case, you’d better not make me angry, because you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

“Uh huh. Really? You turn green or something?”

“Yeah really or something like that. You’re still there, still the woman I married and am planning on remarrying the day after tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.” Niamh ate silently for a moment. “It’s been a rough time since the car crash. But I made it.”

He nodded. “Yes hon, just like I said you would.”

He picked up the glass again. “To us. To the happily ever after we both deserve.”

Niamh touched her glass to his. “To us.”