Page 75 of Dissection of a Murder
His voice is louder than normal.
“Nothing,” I repeat, through gritted teeth.
“There it is again.Nothing.Jesus Christ. Look, I don’t want to fight,” he says, sitting down on the sofa next to me. “What have you done today?”
The cheek of him, going out and leaving me on my own, then coming home, acting all concerned.
“What have I been doing today? Well, I’ve been working on that evidence,” I say, knowing it’s going to provoke him. “You know, the evidence you served deliberately late so I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until January.”
“There it is!” he shouts, slamming his hands down onto his knees. “We got there in the end. That’s why you’re pissed off with me? Because of Quinn Smythe’s statement? Over some CCTV evidence? Jesus Christ!”
He leans forward, rubbing his eyes with his hands. I know this is the wrong time to bring it up, but I’m so mad right now—I can’t hold back any longer.
“Tell me, Julian, how could you fuck over your own pupil?”
Even as I’m saying it, I’m forced to recognize my own hypocrisy, knowing I’ve looked at his confidential evidence. But the difference is that he doesn’t know about that. He has deliberately and knowingly screwed me over here and, worse, has seemed to enjoy it.
“Sorry, Leila.” He smiles, suddenly smug. “This is how big, grown-up cases are won.”
Dick.
“Don’t patronize me. There was no need to do it that way. You knew it would cause unnecessary stress.”
“Well, don’t spoon-feed me valuable information that will help the prosecution, then complain when it backfires on you!” he shouts, standing up to illustrate howstupidI’ve been. “That’swhat you’re annoyed about here. You didn’t realize what you’d done until it smacked you in the face.”
It’s intended to be harsh, and it is. He knows it will hurt.
“Don’t you see the damage you’re creating? It’s not just this case that’s at stake here. This is testing our marriage.”
Even as the words leave my mouth, I know what I’m doing—I’m seeing how far I can push it. How far I can pushhim. I want to knowexactlywhat means more to him. Is it me? Or is it winning? Because, I understand now, he can’t have both.
I want him to say it.
Would he really be prepared to screw me over, his pupil, hiswife, and end our marriage for a victory in court?
“Look, I’m not going to compromise my working practices for anyone. A win is a win. I’m sorry if you can’t understand that.”
Win at all costs. That’s his ethos. Even if that cost is his marriage. But there has to be atinypart of him that thinks he might not win, and then he’ll have lost the case and his wife. I think about what Audrey said. Is all of this because, beneath everything, he feels threatened by me?
“Are you afraid you’ll lose? Is that why you’re acting like a prick?”
He smiles as if I’ve said something funny, genuinely funny. And suddenly it’s clear there is not one part of him that thinks he might lose.
“No.”
“Why not? You always used to say to me no case is 100 percent winnable.”
He sighs, loudly, in the way men do when they’re about to deliver bad news.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Lei. You’re my wife, my pupil, and of course I want the best for you, but you can’t win this. Whether I served this evidence weeks ago, now, or the day of trial—it really doesn’t matter. I’m only being honest with you. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
No shouting, no screaming. His most damaging blows are always quiet.
It dawns on me that his advice regarding Jack giving evidence—to convince him otherwise, to keep him out of the witness box—was genuine. Because he knows it will be a disaster, but also he knows he will win either way.
He turns and walks out of the room. His words float in the air and dance about my head, carefully selected to cling to my worries, my anxieties, my weaknesses.
And I start to believe him. That’s how good an advocate he is. He’s right: the timing of that evidence doesn’t matter. He’s still got the upper hand. Who am I to think I can win against someone with eleven years’ more experience? King’s Counsel, for god’s sake! This man, who taught me everything. I’m kidding myself. The power and confidence in his words, the way he delivers them—it’s terrifying, thinking how a jury will react to him.
