CHAPTER 38

Viv fiddled with the perfect knot in his tie as he studied the text. ‘It should be something signed by her, really.’

‘Feel free to ring her yourself,’ said Seb. He and Barb faced Viv, his near-empty, uber-neat desk between them. His ground-floor Woy Woy office had a bookshelf, carpet, even a painting, but, like its occupant, lacked warmth. It felt like a showroom office, made up to look like the real thing.

At least Viv had agreed to see them at short notice. Seb had rung him straight after seeing Sabina. ‘You might as well come now,’ Viv had said begrudgingly, making Seb suspect his business was not exactly booming.

‘I guess it will do,’ allowed Viv.

‘Great,’ said Barb. ‘So. When did Sal contact you?’

‘Technically, her mother only gave me permission to talk to Seb.’

‘For God’s—’ Barb stopped herself. ‘Fine. Look at him when you answer. You’re talking to him. I just happen to be here.’

Viv didn’t look like he loved the idea, but started to talk. ‘I looked it up. Thirteen days before she died, Sal called me wanting some legal advice. I was working at a small firm in Parramatta, my first job out of university. She said it had to be confidential. I told her if she engaged me as her lawyer I wouldn’t be allowed to tell anyone, but to do that she had to pay me a retainer.’ He allowed himself a modest smile. ‘I charged her one dollar.’

Bully for you, thought Seb.

‘The next day she came to see me.’

‘Did she tell you where she was living?’

‘I had to get her address for the file, so yes. Leura.’

‘You must have been curious why she had left Sydney and the band so abruptly,’ said Barb.

‘It wasn’t a social occasion,’ said Viv primly, sitting ramrod straight, his hands resting on the edge of his desk so he looked as if he was peering over a parapet. ‘I was curious, but she was my client and she wanted legal advice.’

‘No small talk then?’ asked Seb.

‘No.’

‘What advice did she want?’ asked Barb.

‘Initially, she wanted to know the difference between indecent assault and sexual assault.’

The air seemed to shrink back against the walls. No one said anything for a while.

When he could breathe again, Seb asked, ‘Why?’

‘She was unsure which offence she had been the victim of,’ said Viv, looking resolutely at Seb. ‘I explained to her that indecent assault, now called sexual touching, was, as the name suggests, any touching of a sexual nature, maximum sentence five years in jail, whereas sexual assault must involve penetration, and is a more serious offence with a maximum sentence of fourteen years.’

Seb felt a rushing in his ears.

‘The poor girl. Did she say which it was?’ asked Barb.

‘Yes. Sexual touching. No penetration,’ Viv said impassively.

‘What sort of … what happened?’ stumbled Seb.

‘She didn’t give any specifics. All I know is that it was an assault of a sexual nature. She shared nothing about the perpetrator, not even their gender. She referred to the person as “they” throughout. She wanted to know what would happen if a victim of sexual touching reported it.’

‘What did you tell her?’ asked Barb.

‘That if she went to the police, they would take a statement from her, investigate and decide if there was enough evidence to charge the person. And that would involve interviewing the person who allegedly assaulted her.’

‘You said, “allegedly”,’ said Barb. ‘Did you doubt what she told you?’

‘Us lawyers always say “allegedly”.’

‘Shouldn’t that be, “us lawyers allegedly always say ‘allegedly’,”’ said Barb, before she could stop herself.

Viv stared blankly at her. ‘Sal said there were no witnesses, so the only people who really know what happened are her and the alleged perpetrator.’

‘What else did you tell her?’ said Seb.

‘That if they did charge the person, and they pleaded not guilty, there might be a delay of some months and then she would have to give evidence in court. Then she would be cross-examined by their lawyer who would suggest, perhaps repeatedly, that she was lying. I told her that many victims find that an unpleasant experience.’

‘Did the incident happen after she moved to the Blue Mountains, or before?’ asked Barb.

‘I assumed it was something that happened in the Blue Mountains, because the conversation occurred over five months after she moved there. But she didn’t say.’

‘And no clues if it happened at her home or a workplace or …?’

‘None. I asked her if there was any corroborating evidence that would back up her account. She said that during the assault, to defend herself, she hit the person on the nose, and their blood spurted onto her shirt. She had the shirt, and hadn’t washed it.’

‘Did she have the shirt with her? Did you see it?’ asked Seb.

‘No and no.’

‘Her flatmate remembers seeing the shirt,’ said Barb, ‘but says it wasn’t there after Sal died. Any idea what happened to it?’

He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t of great evidentiary value. Even if you could get a DNA test to match the blood with the person she said assaulted her, all it proves that he or she was near Sal’s shirt while bleeding. Not that they assaulted her.’

‘What do you think would have happened if she had reported it to police?’ asked Barb.

‘Seb would know better than me. She said there were no witnesses, no medical evidence, she hadn’t immediately sought treatment or told anyone. Seb?’

‘We often charge on a victim’s uncorroborated evidence, but it’s hard to convict on it. Her word against theirs. Hard to get to beyond reasonable doubt on that. But it happens sometimes.’

‘Agree,’ said Viv. ‘That’s what I told her.’

‘After you told her about the process, how did she react?’ asked Seb.

‘Like many victims, she was somewhat daunted, but seemed determined. I said I could come with her to report it, as her lawyer. She said she would think it over. That’s where we left it. I never heard from her again.’

‘Anything else?’ asked Barb.

He creased his forehead and studied the desk. ‘She asked what it meant in terms of her chances of having the person convicted if they had both been drinking alcohol. I told her that if she was cross-examined, she would be asked about her alcohol intake, and it might be suggested it had affected the accuracy and reliability of her memory. I told her that if the perpetrator was convicted, being drunk would not be seen as a mitigating factor.’

‘You’re sure she was asking about both parties?’ said Barb. ‘Her and her attacker?’

He considered this. ‘Yes.’

‘Which suggests they had both been drinking when it happened.’

‘That is the logical conclusion.’

‘Thanks, Viv,’ said Seb. ‘Anything else you remember?’

‘At the end, I did try to ask her if she was thinking of re-establishing contact with us – the band members. It was a bit awkward, but she said she would soon. And …’ He paused, as if deciding whether to proceed. ‘Well, there was one more thing. I’m not great with the warm and fuzzies. You may have noticed. When I started work, my boss picked up on that and advised me to make my office look “lived in”. Almost like a home, he said. So I put a photo of From Afar up on a shelf next to the desk. After Sal came in, I went to get us coffee. Another tip from my boss. It wasn’t until after she left my office that I noticed the photo had been moved.’

‘How?’

‘I had placed the photo on the shelf facing the desk, so those sitting on either side of the desk could see it. But after Sal left, I realised it had been turned diagonally so it faced my side of the desk only.’

‘You think she did that while you were out of the room?’

‘I’m quite particular. I like things to be in their right place. If it had been moved before Sal came in, I would have noticed.’

There was a silence.

‘Who was in the photo?’ asked Barb.

‘Me, Seb, Sal, Joe, Leanne, Gary and Dev.’

‘Do you think she may have moved the frame so that while you two talked, she wouldn’t be able to see it?’ asked Barb.

‘That seems the most likely scenario. Perhaps she didn’t like how she looked in it.’