Move to Strike by Sydney Bauer

cannot see a way out.’
    â€˜Well, if you are right,’ said David, ‘J.T. gave it a pretty good shot.’ And the irony of his words lay heavy in the silence that followed.
    â€˜All right,’ said de Castro, rising from her chair to move towards the kitchen and take a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and an opener from a stainless steel drawer. She progressed to the cupboard to retrieve three crystal glasses before returning to her sofa and extracting the cork.
    â€˜Forgive me,’ she said, pouring her own glass first before filling the other two without bothering to ask if they wanted any. ‘But it’s getting late, and I’m tired, and the stories I have to tell are far from pleasant. I understand you need proof – and so I shall provide it. But as I explained earlier, I am not one to undertake anything without a favourable quid pro quo.’
    â€˜What is it you want, Katherine?’ asked David at last.
    â€˜I want you to promise that when J.T. is arrested, you and Sara will agree to represent him.’
    â€˜And is this request also coming from Jeffrey?’ asked David, tiring of this little game of Chinese whispers.
    â€˜No.’ She shook her head. ‘This is my little addition to the contract. The boy needs your help and I am hoping you will agree to provide it.’
    â€˜It’s not that easy, Katherine. For starters we don’t work in the juvenile court system – and secondly . . .’
    â€˜Well, I want you to agree to assisting his juvenile specialist attorneys – to help this boy who has never known anything bar humiliation and shame and fear.’
    David shook his head, before looking to Sara who raised her eyebrows ever so slightly in an expression that said, ‘
Perhaps we should at least hear what this woman has to say
.’
    â€˜All right, Katherine,’ said David at last. ‘We will listen, but I can promise you that from where I stand, the chances of your convincing me Stephanie was the monster you describe are somewhere between zero and zilch.’
    â€˜Then I apologise in advance,’ de Castro began, pausing to take a long slow drink of her wine, ‘for destroying your view of a friend you once obviously cherished.’
    De Castro began with the gun. She started slowly, proffering questions as she went. Asking why the wife of a celebrated pacifist – a man who was an outspoken advocate for tighter gun laws – would have given her husband a high-powered big game rifle for his birthday. She explained that Doctor Jeff’s hobbies were limited to golfing and jogging – and that his show was sponsored by Hallmark, one of the most outspoken anti-gun companies in the country.
    â€˜It all started with the handbag,’ she said. ‘Jeffrey told me Stephanie wanted one for her birthday. And not just any tote, she requested a Devi Kroell alligator clutch made from alligators with scales of similar sizes – a rarity, I believe, which I suppose, given Stephanie’s covetous nature, made it all that more appealing.
    â€˜Anyway,’ she went on, taking another sip of her wine, ‘Jeffrey did his best to locate one, but as his wife’s birthday approached, he ran out of time to organise it. He failed to put her name on the waiting list which was, apparently, several hundred strong. You have to remember these bags, which cost a cool thirty thousand each, are made from rare Asian reptiles and do not grow on trees.’
    Sara nodded.
    â€˜So,’ she continued, ‘knowing he could not “deliver”, Jeffrey got the next best thing. He bought her a forty thousand dollar Nancy Gonzalez Porousus bag made from uncommon ring lizard skin. He presented it to her at a party – a big one attended by all her friends – and when she opened it,and studied it, the slightest furrow formed in her brow, before she adjusted her expression to one more appropriate to her