Chapter Sixty-Four

For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.

Ecclesiastes 1:18

Friday 7th December: "Even my husband believes I did it."

"I'm sure that's not true Mrs Hartnett."

Trish tossed her head like a petulant child and grunted her amusement with a "Huh" that was more a sneer than laugh. "Why don't you save that silver tongued bullshit for the jury," she said. "How much am I paying you?" she added.

Lawyer Fieldson winced. This was going to be a good five figure case. "A great deal Mrs Hartnett, and I assure you it is money well spent."

David Fieldson was a class act and he knew it. Slightly built with a square face and blond hair, he was far from intimidating at first glance. Combine the above with a taste for the effete in dress, expressed in a particular penchant for breast pocket handkerchiefs to match his shirts, and bright bow ties for contrast. Plus a lightness of tone in his conversation; people generally underestimated him.

But give him a hostile prosecution witness and he was in his element. Add a brief so hopeless it would tax the patience of Job, and you were getting somewhere. He'd always been amused by the fact that the Springfield Police Department had Jude as its patron saint; Jude who was renowned as having a predisposition for hopeless causes. Fieldson prided himself on making sure they didn't take the defence forgranted. And not for the first time he was about to go head to head with the State's attorney in a case that was going to be front page news.

Lawyer Fieldson cut to the chase, "This business started with Mary Young's suicide, did it not?"

"So?"

"Mr. Young's murder could be unrelated but I doubt it. The likelihood is that we are dealing with one killer."

"And is the Pope a Catholic? You sure know how to state the obvious." Then she paused, confused. "But Mary Young killed herself."

"That's a maybe Mrs Hartnett. Are you so sure we can be certain that Mary Young's death was suicide?"

"You can't be serious?"

"Oh but I am. We must dispense with all our past thinking if we are to prove you innocent."

"And you believe I am innocent?"

He managed not to look offended by her audacity. "That is scarcely the point at issue."

"It is very much the point at issue, Lawyer Fieldson."

"It matters to you what I believe? I am not the jury Mrs Hartnett."

Trish Hartnett narrowed her green-grey eyes, the effect both intimidating and charming, like a poodle at bay. "Yes Mr Fieldson, it matters."

David Fieldson didn't hesitate. This was ground he had travelled before with many a client. He had learnt long ago it was best to tell them what they wanted to hear.

"Very well Mrs Hartnett. Since it matters. Yes of course I believe you are innocent." The lie slid easily off his tongue. He was a good lawyer after all.