The Verdict by Nick Stone Page B

year.’
    ‘Janice Brown?’
    ‘She hates me.’
    ‘Lynne Brown?’
    ‘She hates me too. They’re sisters. And she doesn’t believe in private law firms.’
    ‘Prabjit Khan?’
    ‘Her life’s a circus.’ Kopf shook his head and winced. ‘A
barrister
on a reality TV show, for God’s sake.’
    ‘It was a
gameshow
, Sid,’ Janet said.
    ‘Same damn difference. Idiots making bigger idiots of themselves.’
    They fell silent as they racked their brains. I looked down at the table. There were patterns in the wood, Munch-like faces staring up at me through hollow eyes.
    ‘How about Christine Devereaux?’ Kopf suddenly suggested.
    ‘I thought she’d retired?’ Janet said.
    ‘She stepped down due to illness. She’s since reconsidered and is back at work.’
    ‘But she’s still ill?’
    ‘Christine is one of the best barristers ever to step inside a courtroom. She’s ideal for this. An absolute fighter. Lethal in cross-examination, and her summaries are grand opera.’
    ‘Sid, she’s
dying
.’
    ‘Aren’t we all, Janet?’ he said.
    ‘No, Sid.’
    ‘What’s wrong with her?’ I asked.
    ‘What’s it matter?’ Janet said.
    ‘If she’s back at work, she must be functioning. Besides, that can only play to our advantage,’ I said.
    ‘We’re not using her. Now, who —’
    ‘
How
can that benefit us, Terry?’ Kopf interrupted.
    ‘Ailing barrister gets off her sickbed to fight for justice,’ I said.
    ‘Are you being
serious
?’ Janet asked me, angrily.
    I was about to apologise and withdraw, when Kopf spoke up.
    ‘Terry’s got a point,’ he said.
    ‘Are
you
being serious?’
    ‘I may sometimes laugh at the law, Janet, but I
never
joke about it,’ Kopf said. ‘Yes, Christine’s ill. And obviously so. But think about it. You’ll have Carnavale doing his usual routine – flashy, sharp, all withering one-liners and knock-out putdowns. Then you get Christine. Every time she gets to her feet to defend our client, the jury will see and hear the effort she’s making, just to even be there. And it’ll be almost too painful to watch, but all their attention will be focused on the grand old dame who’s using her last thousand breaths to defend our client. And that’s before she even speaks. And when she does, she’ll wipe the floor with Franco. She’ll be flashier, sharper, a lot more withering. And the jury’ll love it. And they’ll love her. And – who knows? – they might even acquit our client out of sympathy.’
    It sounded callous, even cruel. But when the last meal was gone and the cavalry wasn’t coming because all the horses had been eaten, people turned to cannibalism.
    ‘You really
do
want her on this, don’t you?’ Janet said.
    ‘If it goes to trial, then yes, I do,’ Kopf said.
    After another rummage through her notebooks, Janet reluctantly nodded her assent.
    ‘OK. I’ll call her. What about a junior?’ Janet asked.
    ‘In-house for that. We just need a backstopper. Liam Redpath springs to mind. He finished up something last Thursday.’
    ‘Don’t you want another woman?’ Janet asked sarcastically, giving me a cutting look.
    Now I wish I’d stayed out of this. Janet was my boss.
    ‘That’ll look too deliberate,’ Kopf said. ‘Juries are often dumb, but never stupid.’
    ‘Liam’s a safe pair of hands,’ Janet said. ‘But no more than that. What if Christine falls ill? He hasn’t got the experience to fill her shoes.’
    ‘Then we’ll have another trial. Start again.’
    Liam Redpath wouldn’t have been my first choice either. I’d been in a couple of meetings with him. He was a born yes-man, a middle manager on the make, someone whose entire career seemed to consist of standing with his wet finger in the air, judging which direction the wind was blowing and going with the flow.
    ‘Next. Investigators?’ Janet said. ‘Terry, any suggestions?’
    No, she wasn’t being sarcastic now.
    Some of the bigger private law firms had their in-house