Page 119 of Dissection of a Murder
“It all just ran a bit too…”
“What?”
“Smooth for my liking.”
I laugh, raising my eyebrows. He knows I’ve done something sneaky; it takes one to know one.
“Smooth? Yes, a bit like how Quinn worked out on his own that Jack had been harassing him, which suddenly gave Anton a motive for being there that night. As you say, smooth.”
God forbid I questionhisprofessional integrity.
“You know, Julian, one of the first things you taught me was how to use the opposition’s own witnesses against them. I was always taught—youalways taught me—it’s much more powerful than using your own. You know what’s even better than that? When you’re the one who dictates whether they’re used at all.”
The penny drops. He understands what’s happened. It’s not in his nature to show emotion on his face, but even he can’t hide the anger that’s swelling in his eyes right now.
“What did you call Quinn, Julian? A ‘smoking gun’? Only because I pulled the trigger and led you straight to him. I needed him in that witness box. You shouldn’t have underestimated me.”
Julian is not used to getting played in trials. He’s usually the one pulling the strings. But I’ve outsmarted him here. He will make me pay for it, but right now, I couldn’t care less.
“One murder trial in and you think you’re King’s Counsel?” he says, mocking me. “It takes more than flashy tricks to be good at this, darling.”
“Oh! But I thought it was all about the drama? Isn’t that what you said?”
He’s seeing a side of me he isn’t used to, and he’s unsure how to react. He stands, watching me, jaw muscle flickering.
“You know what I think?” I tell him. “I think you don’t like that your wife might actually win this trial. Thishopelesstrial.”
I don’t believe I will, but I’m enjoying provoking him. What have I got to lose? It’s all going to come crashing down soon enough because of her anyway.
“There’s no way the jury will buy this nonsense,” he scoffs. “This woman? I mean, who is she?”
“I know who she is,” I say confidently, walking toward him.
“You do?” he asks, with a genuine air of intrigue in his voice. “Who?”
I drag the silence out for a few seconds, allowing his face to rest fully so I can see his reaction when I say it.
“Demi Vernon.”
He seems taken aback at the suggestion but doesn’t say anything. I think he’s trying to work out if I’m serious or not. I watch his face; it stiffens slightly.
“Demi?” he repeats, his face now animated, as though he’s recovered and is back to full function again. “Having an affair with a criminal? Why on earth would you think that?”
“She fits the bill—married, and I can imagine she and Chester have a toxic relationship. You wouldn’t want to mess with Chester, would you? The weekend Anton died, she was acting in thestrangestway at his birthday drinks. Asking about the case and, I know this sounds bizarre, but she avoided you at the party. Actively moved away from you whenever you were near her. Isn’t thatweird?”
“That’s what you’re basing this on?”
“Not quite,” I shoot back. I don’t take my eyes off him. “Chester told me months ago he suspected she’d been having an affair.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. He didn’t know who it was, but you know him—he doesn’t let things go. He said he wouldn’t be made a fool of. Said when he found out who it was, he’d make their life hell.”
“This is all coincidence, surely.” The mean tone in his voice moments ago has vanished. He’s trying to steer me away from this, just as I knew he would.
“And now she’s twenty weeks pregnant, which means the baby was conceived around the time of the murder. Took her months to tell him. I bet it’s not even his…Chester has doubts, too. He’s not stupid.”
“So, what are you saying? That Demi is carrying Jack Millman’s child? Can you hear yourself?”
