Page 21 of Dissection of a Murder
“Look, I care for Sienna. She’s a bloody good woman and a loyal solicitor. She sends me decent cases,” he explains, attempting to justify his actions. I’m not buying it. “OK, fine. I’ll stop. Just watchyourself. Julian’s cocky and I loathe cocky. He’ll do whatever it takes to win.”
“So will I,” I whisper menacingly with a wink.
“That’s my girl!” He laughs, raising his drink to mine. The music in the bar is turned up a notch as we sip from our oversized glasses.
“Leila, I hope you know you can come to me for help or guidance. I’m always here, professionally or personally,” he says, reaching out and very gently placing his hand on the top of my leg. His fingers curl around, ever so slightly, to the inside of my thigh.
I look at him with a cold stare. He quickly removes his hand and runs it through his silver hair. He’s crossed a line, and he knows it. I should rant and rave at him right now about how he’s overstepped the mark, but I don’t.
I consider it for a few seconds. It’s the right thing to do.
But.
I really need to ask him something. And I can’t do that if I launch a tirade of feminism at him. And he’s my head of chambers; he could make life very difficult for me if he wanted to. Chester is known for being a great ally if you’re on his good side—and lethal if you’re not.
Something deep inside is still niggling away at me after seeing the way Demi acted at Chester’s birthday party a couple of weeks back.
“Sorry…sorry…I shouldn’t have done that…I suppose I just…” he mumbles. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just…I’ve a lot going on at the moment. Sorry.”
“It’sfine,” I say, despising myself. Just last night, I was empowering students not to stand for this shit, and now here I am, planning on using what just happened to my advantage. If I need information from him, now’s the time to get it. It’s a classic cross-examination technique.
“Forget it, Chester,” I say dismissively, moving even farther away from him. “How are things with you, anyway? How’s Demi? She looked beautiful at your party.”
“What?” he says, distracted, leaning back into the sofa. “I tell you what, Leila, I’m not doing this again.”
“Doing what?” I ask, forcing a huge gulp of wine down my throat.
“Marriage.”
“What do you mean?” I try not to ask too quickly.
“I think she’s having an affair.”
I knew something was going on. Iknewit.
“What? Demi? No.”
“Was. Is. I’m not sure. But something’s up.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, firstly, I’m not as oblivious as she thinks I am. Secondly, I’ve been there and done that, haven’t I? I know the signs. Serves me right, I suppose.”
Chester had just split up with his first wife when I joined chambers. He had the look of a broken man, one who had ultimately messed up and lost everything: his wife, his home, his life. Risked it all for the thrill of another woman. It’s not difficult to see how he managed it. Even now, he oozes charisma and charm.
It took him a couple of years to get over what happened. I rarely saw him around chambers during that time. Apparently, he didn’t like coming in, being around people. I think he drank a lot. After that, he became a bit of a cliché; bought a fast car, a city apartment overlooking the river. Every Friday night he’d be surrounded by young women in champagne bars—no expense spared.
“I’m fifty-nine years old, Leila, and what have I got to show for myself? On the way to two failed marriages and a kid who won’t speak to me.”
Honestly, he’s an intelligent man. How can he not see that actions have consequences? And yet, for some stupid reason, I feel sorry for the idiot.
“It’s never too late, you know. To make things good with Elise.”
Everyone in chambers knows Chester’s daughter hasn’t spoken to him since he cheated on her mother. I think he maintains a strained relationship with his son, but the daughter wants nothing to do with him.
“She made her views about me clear a long time ago. It is very much too late.”
There’s a sadness and fragility to him as he says this.
