MURDER BRIEF (20 page)

She’d just started to relax when
Rex Markham strolled in wearing a light-green linen suit and
holding a big bunch of red roses. His eyes seemed brighter, and
skin smoother and tighter, than before. There was a bounce in his
step. He almost looked like the man on the back cover of his
books.

He must have sneaked past the
reception desk.

She said: "Rex, welcome. Why the
roses?"

"I woke this morning and decided
I still haven’t thanked you enough for saving my worthless hide. I
mean, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have enjoyed coffee and
croissants at a local cafe. So these are for you."

He handed her the roses. She
sniffed them appreciatively and laid them on her desk. A strange
tremor of desire ran through her. No man had ever been so grateful
before. It was rather intoxicating. Didn't Kafka say that accused
men are the most desirable?

"They’re very nice. Thank you.
Take a seat."

He dropped into the chair
opposite, looking a touch uncomfortable. Indeed, his eyes had a
strange light.

She said: "Did you see Danielle
last night?"

He fidgeted. "Umm, yes. But I
didn’t stay at her place."

Why mention that? "Really? And
how did you sleep?"

"Like a baby."

"No hang-over from your
ordeal?"

Rex shrugged. "No. But I’m sure
there’ll be nights when I have nightmares about what happened."

"Maybe you should go on a
holiday - get away."

He shifted nervously. "Funnily
enough, I’ve decided to go sailing. I’ve got a 36-foot yacht. I’m
going to take it to New Zealand."

"A long voyage."

"Yeah. But I’m looking forward
to it. On the high seas there are no cops, judges or reporters.
It’ll be fantastic."

"Danielle going with you?"

"No. In fact, it doesn't look
like we'll stay together."

"That's too bad."

"Yes. After the trauma we've
gone through, I think it'll be too hard to return to what we had."
He nervously stared down at the space between his feet. "But, umm,
any chance that, before I go, we can have dinner - to celebrate my
freedom?"

"You mean, celebrate with Brian
and Bernie?"

A keen stare. "No, I just want
to celebrate with
you
."

A lump in her throat. She’d
suspected he was attracted to her, but kept quiet because of the
charges against him. And she certainly wasn't interested in him
because he was facing 25 years behind bars. Getting emotionally
involved would have been spectacularly stupid.

So was she interested now?
Having just saved him from prison, she felt some affection. But
even if Brian wasn’t on the scene, she wouldn’t have wanted Rex.
For a start, he didn’t make her heart race. Indeed, the longer she
knew him, the smoother and slimier he seemed. The murder charge had
obviously forced him to restrain his womanizing. Now he was off the
leash. And she couldn’t ignore that he once struck Alice and was
now cheating on Danielle. In fact, seen in that light, his offer
was truly insulting. How stupid did he think she was?

She avoided eye contract. "No,
I’d rather not. I’ve got, umm, other commitments."

He frowned. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You mean, someone else?"

"Yes."

A frown. "Anyone I know?"

He probably suspected she was
shagging Brian. But why indulge his curiosity. "No."

A deeper frown. "You sure you
won't have dinner? I would like to show my gratitude."

Christ, did she have to stencil
"Not Interested" on her forehead? "No, best not."

He studied her closely and
nodded ruefully. "OK. Well, I’m terribly grateful for everything
you’ve done. I really am." He stood up.

She smiled and shook his hand.
"Think nothing of it."

As he left, she realized that he
had probably confused his gratitude to her with passion for her.
She also pondered how relationships between barristers and clients
usually blaze brightly for a while and quickly fade. Hopefully, she
wouldn’t see him again and she certainly wouldn’t read any more of
his books. Indeed, he'd confirmed that it’s never a good idea to
meet a favourite author.

His appearance reminded her that
she still hadn’t sent a bill to Bernie Roberts, who was holding
money in trust. Humming away, she abandoned herself to the thrill
of typing up a hefty bill that would soon be paid. She’d almost
finished when Brian Davis strolled in, smiling until he saw the
flowers on her desk.

His eyes narrowed. "Hi, nice
flowers."

"Thanks."

"Who gave them to you?"

"Oh, Rex."

Brian frowned. "Really?
Why?"

"To thank me, of course."

"He didn’t send me any
flowers."

"Not my fault."

Brian’s frown deepened. "Not
even a bottle of brandy."

"Maybe he thinks that paying
your extortionate bill will be thanks enough."

Brian looked annoyed. "Oh, so
you’re not going to bill him?"

"Not as much as you."

"Not my fault. How did you get
the flowers? Did he send them?"

"No, he delivered them
himself."

Brian’s frown returned.
"When?"

"About ten minutes ago."

"That so? And what did you talk
about?"

She smiled. "Why do you want to
know? Jealous, are you?"

Brian managed a low-watt smile.
"Me, jealous? Why would I be jealous?"

She shrugged. "Because you’ve
been worried I like him."

Brian gave a hollow laugh and
pushed his hands into his pockets. "No, I haven't. But what did you
two talk about?"

She was enjoying herself. "Oh,
he thanked me, of course, for saving his hide and asked me to have
dinner with him."

Brian looked shocked. "Dinner?
Why?"

"He said he wanted to celebrate
his freedom."

"Without me?"

"Yep. Just the two of us."

"He's got the hots for you,
hasn't he?"

"Looks like it."

"But the dirty bastard’s already
in a relationship with Danielle."

"He claims that's on the
ropes."

"What an arsehole: cheated on
his wife and now his mistress. What did you say?"

She loved teasing him.
"Guess."

"You said ‘no’, right?"

She gazed out the window and let
him dangle for a while, twisting in the breeze, before looking
back. "Of course I said ‘no’."

He looked relieved. "Good. And
you’re not interested in him, right?"

She was tired of this game. "Of
course not. In fact, call me crazy but, right now, I’m only
interested in you."

"Really?"

"Yes."

A broad smile. "Great.
Fantastic. So, I'm buying you dinner tonight?"

"Definitely."

"And I was thinking that maybe,
this weekend, we can drive up to the Hunter Valley, visit a few
wineries and stay overnight."

"Sounds good."

He slipped around behind the
desk and kissed her on the lips. "OK then, I’ll speak to you
later."

"Sure."

When he’d gone, Robyn finished
typing her bill and faxed it off to Bernie Roberts, before
returning more calls from well-wishers. In her spare moments, she
thought about Brian. He really seemed more sensitive and thoughtful
than she'd originally believed. Maybe she could knock him into
shape. But that prospect made her a little afraid. If she wasn’t
careful, she’d fall in love with him and find herself on very
dangerous ground indeed.

Robyn desperately wanted to
discuss her triumph with Silvia Tyler. But Silvia spent most of the
day in court, not returning until four-thirty. When she did, Robyn
slipped into her room and found her unbuttoning her bar jacket.

Silvia smiled. "Oh, it’s our
very own superstar. Well, girlie, I can’t watch TV or read the
paper without seeing your ugly mug. It’s pathetic. Can I kiss your
hem?"

"Only if you’re sincere."

A smoky laugh. "No chance." She
hung her bar jacket in a small wardrobe. "Want a drink to
celebrate?"

"Why not?"

Silvia reached into a desk
drawer and fished out a whiskey bottle and a couple of glasses. She
filled them and handed one to Robyn. "Congratulations. No stopping
you now."

"Thanks."

They both sipped the
whiskey.

Silvia raised an eyebrow. "You
know, you got more publicity than your esteemed leader, Brian
Davis."

"Not my fault."

"I know. But I must say, he was
very generous after the trial. A lot of glory-hogging silk would
have airbrushed you out; they’d have preferred their client got
convicted rather than share any credit."

"I know. In fact, I think I’ve
misjudge him."

"How?"

"I thought he was arrogant and
superficial."

Silvia arched both eyebrows.
"And he’s not?"

"Well, he’s not as bad as I
thought."

"Goodness. Sounds like you’re
starting to like him."

Robyn flushed slightly. Was it
the whiskey? Embarrassment? Both? "Actually, I am."

"Really?"

"Yes, in fact, umm …"

"In fact what?"

"In fact, we’ve got quite
close."

Silvia giggled. "How close?"

"Very."

"You mean, you’re shagging?"

"Well, yeah."

"When did that start?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because, dearie, I want all the
grubby details."

"OK then. Last night."

"A sort of victory
celebration?"

"Yes. But I think it's more
serious than that."

"Really? You think he’s capable
of being serious?"

"Maybe. He says he’s ready to
settle down."

Silvia shrugged. "You know him
better than me. But if I’ve learnt one thing in life, it’s that you
can’t trust men until they’re stone dead and the coffin lid has
been screwed on tight."

"But what about Geoff? You trust
him, don’t you?"

"No. He looks meek and mild, and
I’ve never caught him cheating. But he’s got a dick, and that makes
him as rational as a suicide bomber."

"Well, if I catch Brian
cheating, he’ll be toast. No second chances."

"None at all?"

"Nope."

"Good."

They downed a couple more
whiskeys while Silvia peppered Robyn with questions about the
Markham trial. Eventually, Robyn put down her glass and got
unsteadily to her feet. "I can’t keep drinking, I’m afraid. Got
work to do."

Silvia said: "OK. But just out
of curiosity, what happened to the dog-bite case Gary Monaghan did
for you?"

Shit. Robyn had forgotten about
that. The hearing was several days ago. Goodness. "I don’t know. I
haven’t seen Gary around. Have you?"

"Not for a few days."

Robyn already felt guilty for
asking Gary to take the case in the first place. She only did so
because Silvia mentioned he was keen on her. As a result, she
feared she'd trifled with his affections.

And now she hadn’t even bothered
to ask him what happened. Very haughty and naughty.

However, she wouldn’t beat
herself up too much. This was a triumphant time in her life. Why
ruin it with a guilt trip?

Still, courtesy demanded that
she talk to Gary about the case. In fact, she'd best do that right
now, while she had some whiskey in her system.

Robyn said: "I’ll go and ask him
what happened."

"OK. Let me know. And,
congrats."

"Thanks."

Robyn strolled across the
corridor and stepped into Gary’s spookily neat room, and was
relieved to find he wasn’t there.

She strolled around to the
floor’s receptionist, Wendy, a middle-aged woman with a huge bosom
whose default expression was boredom. Barristers on the floor often
complained she was lazy, but were too lazy to do anything about it.
She probably had the most secure job in Sydney.

As usual, she was polishing her
nails. When she broke one, she cursed like a top athlete who’s
pulled a hamstring.

Robyn said: "Wendy, is Gary
around?"

Wendy slowly shifted some gum
from one cheek to the other and gave Robyn a blank stare. Words
dribbled from her lips. "Gary? He’s in Canberra. Got a hearing in
the Federal Court. Should be back tomorrow morning."

"You sure?"

"That’s what he said. I can give
you his mobile number, if you want?"

Robyn preferred to delay her
chat with Gary. "No, don’t bother. I’ll speak to him tomorrow."

Wendy returned the gum to its
original location and used her tongue to fix it in place. "OK."

That evening, after dinner in a
nice restaurant, Robyn took Brian back to her place for another
bout of torrid sex. The next morning she again left the house
before him, keen to get to work. Phone calls and visits from
well-wishers kept her busy until mid-morning. Then her conscience
demanded
that she ask Gary Monaghan about the fate of Mad
Mrs Muldoon and her stupid dog.

He sat at his desk, head bowed
over a law report, exposing the razor-sharp part in his lank dark
hair. He was actually quite good-looking in a very regular and
non-descript sort of way.

She cleared her throat.
"Hi."

He looked up, surprised. "Hi
and, umm, congratulations."

"For what?"

"The murder trial. You got a lot
of publicity and obviously did a fantastic job."

He spoke with a frankness and
sincerity she rarely encountered, especially at the Bar. What was
wrong with him? Did he grow up in the country? Was he the son of
missionaries? Did he study for the priesthood? "Ah, yes,
thanks."

"You’ll have to tell me what
happened."

"Yes, I will. But first tell me
about Mrs Muldoon."

He frowned and looked
crestfallen. "Oh, bad news there I’m afraid. She was convicted and
fined $500."

"And the dog?" The dog’s fate
was much more important.

"Better news. Touch and go, but
the magistrate gave it a reprieve."