Page 69 of Dissection of a Murder
“Yes.”
“Do you haveanyidea what he’s going to say?”
“No,” I say casually. A part of me is enjoying this.
“Leila, I’m speaking as your pupilmaster now,” he says, placing his hands on the table opposite me to demonstrate how serious he is. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“It’s his call.” I shrug.
“If this goes the way I suspect it will, people will question why you allowed it. You do understand this? For your own sake, convince him not to get in the witness box.”
Scare tactics. Nice.
“Tell you what, Julian,” I say, raising my voice slightly. “You concentrate on your case, and I’ll concentrate on mine. OK?”
It’s only when he leaves the room that I realize how clenched my jaw is. My chest feels tight, and I’m so angry I can hear the bloodpumping into my brain. In the space of five minutes, Julian has completely derailed our case and insinuated I’m going to lose and be laughed at. With only hours to go before the entire legal profession shuts down for Christmas, there’s nothing I can do until January, and by then, it’ll only be a few days until the trial.
He’s done this on purpose.
Just like Chester warned me, Julian will stop at nothing to win. I need to get to work.
34
Leila
11:55 a.m.
I grab the USBmemory stick and insert it into my laptop. The CCTV shows Jack leaving the Temptation car park in his car at 1:17 p.m. It’s then captured by several other cameras on various roads in town, moving through traffic on the way to West Sutton. It pulls up outside a strip mall at 1:32 p.m. and he steps out. He walks into one of the units, Electric Dreams.
Hitting pause, I try to recall where I’ve heard that before. It takes me a few seconds before I recognize that it’s Daniella’s shop. Eddie Sorrington’s wife. I remember it from the law fair when she was giving out free manicures.
I call Davina. She answers immediately.
“You need to get over here. We’ve got a problem.”
—
Fifteen minutes later, I’m driving us to the salon. We need to figure out what this is about before everything closes for Christmas. The fact Eddie Sorrington has potentially become relevant in this case is troubling.
As far as “hard men” go, Sorrington’s up there. There are figureheads at the top of every criminal network. The stupid ones makemistakes and get caught. The savvy ones recruit other people to do the slippery work for them. Eddie is the latter. The official line is that he’s made his money from property investment, car sales, and a chain of beauty salons across Durham. Those of us who are more worldly know this couldn’t possibly pay for the holidays to Dubai, the supercars, the huge houses, and the multiple kids in private schools. It’s more likely funded through drugs and money-laundering. The police would love to get him, but, apart from some time for petty stuff when he was younger, he hasn’t slipped up.
Yet.
“Jack is adamant he doesn’t want to grass anyone up. What if the person he’s trying to protect is Eddie? They’re very close,” Davina says, no doubt concerned about the person who funds the majority of her clients’ fees. This trip is making her edgy.
“We’ve got three weeks until the trial. I’m not prepared to stand in front of a jury with nothing to say.”
“It might not come to that.” She shrugs. “There’s still time. Anything could come to light between now and then.”
“This isn’t a film, Davina. When have you ever seen that happen in real life?”
“I’m just saying, there’s obviously more to this story, and it’ll come out eventually. I do love a good plot twist.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Davina, but in my professional experience, the ultimate plot twist is thereisno twist. The answers are usually in front of you the whole time, and if you miss them, it’s because you aren’t looking properly. But the last-minute confessions, the hidden evidence found with seconds to spare—they’re myths. A good lawyer should be able to spot them a mile off.”
“You’re no fun at all.” She laughs.
“Sorry.” I smile. “Now, are you coming in with me or not?”
