Covet by Tara Moss Page B

that should not affect the case in respect of the others. That, at least, was positive news.
    ‘And the insanity plea? Do you think they will try that?’ Mak pried. It was a strong rumour.
    ‘It is possible. The law stipulates, of course, that we must make full disclosure of our case—and how we will be presenting it—to the defence before the trial begins. But Mr Brown’s team does not need to disclose anything to us in advance. They only need to give us notice if they plan to call new expert witnesses in order that we may have our own experts on hand to refute the defence evidence. Other than that, they could have almost anything up their sleeves. And Mr Granger, well, he usually has a few good tricks at his disposal.’
    Mak knew there would be a forensic psychologist on hand for the prosecution to state the Crown’s case that Ed was a psychopath, not insane, and thereby shouldn’t be able to plead not guilty on the grounds of insanity. He had known what he was doing to his victims—and knew it was wrong. He was warped and evil, but not legally mad.
    Her toe began to itch harder and she bent down to pull off her shoe and scratch it.
    ‘Are you unwell?’ Bartel asked.
    Mak felt herself blush. She didn’t want to flash her scarred bare foot but it was impossible to ignore the itch. ‘You can call it psychosomatic, but my toe itches when I, um…when I think about all this.’
    ‘Good. We’ll use that,’ he said, to her surprise. ‘Does the toe operate fully now? Is your walking or exercise ever impaired?’ He was taking notes.
    ‘Not any more.’
    He seemed almost disappointed. Perhaps he’d pictured her hobbling up to the witness box, a twenty-seven-year-old woman using a cane. Effective.
    ‘Can I ask another question?’ Mak said.
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘How is it that someone like Ed Brown can inspire an advocate like Phillip Granger to put his hand up for the case? Who is this guy? Have you met him before?’ There was a distinctly cutting tone in her voice that took Makedde herself by surprise. She hadn’t intended to sound so bitter.
    ‘Oh, yes, I know Mr Granger very well,’ Bartel replied. ‘He is a first-class advocate, one of the most respected in Australia. He’s been practising since the sixties and is adept at handling high-profile cases like this one.’ He shuffled a few papers around on his desk, his face grim. ‘What you have to remember, Makedde, is that a man is on trial for extremely serious crimes here. For justice to be served, he must receive the best possible representation. That is the way the system works. It’s not personal, it’s legal. Mr Granger will try to find an alternate explanation for the killings, and he will present it. In the end, once the rival theories are presented to the judge and jury, justice prevails. It’s not the defender’s job to judge his client, only to represent him as best as he is able. And it’s not my job to judge either. It may not be a perfect system, but it is the one we have, and I have dedicated my life to being part of it.’
    Mak nodded, feeling embarrassed to have inspired such a defence of the legal system. Sheknew he was right, but it was hard not to feel angry that Ed Brown, sadistic and heartless killer of her friend Catherine and so many others, would get his day in court represented by the best. The killer’s defence would try to make the jury believe that Ed was insane, or that the forensic evidence against him was inconclusive, that Makedde was a poor witness, that Detective Jimmy Cassimatis was a bad cop, that Detective Andrew Flynn had acted unprofessionally and had a personal prejudice in the case that made him unreliable. It was not only Ed Brown on trial, but all those who had brought him to justice. That’s how the system worked, Mak reflected ruefully. A detective inspector’s daughter could not be naïve about these things. She knew too much.
    It was the trial she had dreaded for a year and a half.
    And it would