judge issued an injunction against Ms Vance having any contact with the alleged victim.’
Standing outside the courthouse, Martine was wearing her snooker vest, speaking to the camera in a dry, clipped tone. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to depart from her trademark blue jacket, but she had worn the snooker vest a couple of times before and had got a positive response in her mailbag. And she had a particular reason for wanting to emphasize her figure today; the network had been talking about putting her behind a desk in the studio and were evidently getting some funny ideas about parachuting in some ambitious spring chicken to fill her slot.
‘Ms Phoenix’s participation was opposed by the prosecution. But after a long sidebar, the prosecution’s motion was denied. The D.A.’s office declined to say afterwards whether they would file an interim appeal.’
A woman’s hand reached out and paused the news report. Then she returned her attention to the computer in front of her. With a click of a button she launched an e-mail package and started preparing a message to [email protected].
This would put the fear of God into the bitch.
‘So how did you manage to overcome her objections?’ asked Martine over her hors d’oeuvre of torchon of duck foie gras with poached Adriatic fig in Muscat wine.
Ten minutes earlier, Martine and Alex had entered the Little Door, one of Martine’s favorite haunts. As they’d stepped through the wooden doors to the patio, it had been like passing through a gateway into another dimension. In an instant, they had left the city behind them and entered a rustic world of bougainvilleas, ferns, a tiled fountain and a Koi pond. A succession of light waves from the wrought-iron candelabra rippled across the lace tablecloth. They could even see the moon through the open skylight.
‘I don’t want this to end up on the evening news,’ said Alex.
‘Strictly off the record,’ Martine assured him.
‘We used a bit of gentle persuasion.’
He didn’t really feel comfortable telling her about the incident. It would probably make him sound like a bully. But the practice of law was a dirty business. They both knew that.
‘We?’ Martine raised her eyebrows with a delicate smile.
‘Paul Sherman and I.’
‘You mean you blackmailed her?’
‘I prefer to call it bribery,’ he said with a guilty smile, after a short pause.
He attacked his own hors d’oeuvre of farmer’s market butter lettuce and steamed spring vegetables, a light starter to allow room for his main course of filet mignon and roasted fingerling potatoes.
‘So what was the carrot?’ she smiled, alluding to the piece of carrot poised at the end of his fork with a smile.
‘I sold it as a fight for a man’s right to a second chance.’
His facial expression was nervous, as if he was expecting a torrent of skeptical laughter or a cutting response. But Martine’s smile was both piercing and bewitching.
‘And what did Sherman use as the stick?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come off it, Alex. You were playing good cop, bad cop.’
He held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness, caught in the glare of Martine’s headlamps.
‘Okay,’ he acknowledged reluctantly. ‘You’ve got me. We did a little arm twisting.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. It must be pretty hard for her, with her lover working at a rape crisis center.’
‘That’s a personal matter. They’ll just have to work it out for themselves.’
‘You make it sound so easy. Imagine what it must be like for Eugenia Vance: one minute she’s doing her job, next minute she gets handed an injunction telling her she’s not allowed to have any contact with the victim.’
‘I’m sorry. I may have sounded a bit callous. But the judge didn’t exactly have a choice. He had to do it to avoid a conflict of interest.’
Martine’s face turned suddenly serious. ‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’
Alex had an uneasy feeling when he heard the words…and the tone. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I also have a conflict of interest. I can’t cover the case and carry on going out with you.’
It was quite late when Andi arrived home. She had spent the day going over the case file with Alex and then stayed on for a few hours after he left. It had been exhausting. They were racking their brains trying to figure out how they could refute the DNA evidence. All the other evidence could be challenged and the seeds of reasonable doubt sown.
But the DNA was a problem, a real problem. It couldn’t just be swept under the rug. In the past, they might have been able to attack the science itself or throw up smoke screens to confuse the jury. But post-O.J. Simpson that was no longer an option. Defense ploys are like magicians’ tricks – they can never be repeated in the same form. The most Alex and Andi could do was point out that the particular form of the DNA technology used in this case was less discriminating than other methods.
But all of this was still way down the line. First they had to resolve the issue of trial venue. That was the big question that was going to come up at the pre-trial in two weeks’ time. And that was what Andi had to focus on now.
Gene was lying on the bed in her underwear in the dimly lit room, watching the wall-mounted TV when Andi entered. Andi took off her street clothes in the walk-in closet by the door and then shuffled back into the bedroom barefoot and in her underwear, expecting Gene’s usual warm welcome. But Gene didn’t even turn to look at her. Andi was hurt and confused; Gene was never cold like this, even if she was in a bad mood.
‘Where have you been?’ asked Gene, her eyes glued to the TV.
Andi sensed that Gene had had a bad day as she climbed onto the bed behind her lover, gently massaging Gene’s raised shoulder.
‘At the office. I had a lot of paperwork to clear up. I’ve just started on a major case.’
‘I know. Some flunky from the court came round to the center to serve an injunction on me.’
Andi stopped massaging, but left her hands in place. She knew now what this was about. ‘Are you angry?’
Gene turned round, brushing off Andi’s hands in the process. There were tears of anger in Gene’s eyes. This surprised Andi. It was very rare for Gene to cry.
‘What do you think? I quit my job in New York and crossed the continent with you ‘cause you couldn’t make it over there and now you stab me in the back by getting me thrown off the case, so I can’t even help the victim. And why? To defend a rapist!’
Andi understood Gene’s anger, and she could hardly blame her for it. In a way she knew that Gene was right. The anger that Gene was feeling towards Andi was every bit as intense as the anger that Andi had felt towards Alex. But the fact was, she had signed on for the defense and all she could do was fall back on that last standby of litigants and lovers: anger of her own.
‘It’s my job,’ she snapped, rolling off the bed. ‘And it’s alleged rapist!’
With these words, Andi stormed out of the room.
Tears