Dark Angels by Grace Monroe

about a second for me to realise this wasn’t quite the approach I should have gone for.
    ‘No right, no right!’ Purple in the face, Strathclyde looked as if he were about to explode.
    ‘No right!’ he continued. ‘It’s my court! I can do as I please! Anything! I can do anything!’
    Raising himself up to his full height, he leaned over the bench. For a moment, I thought that he would topple onto me. I was squaring up to him. This day was getting worse with every passing minute and he was a bully. Anyway, surely he wouldn’t respect obsequiousness?
    ‘Find me in contempt,’ I challenged him, ‘and I will appeal you straightaway.’
    No judge likes to have his or her decisions appealed. I had my pen poised noting down every word he said.
    Strathclyde was well acquainted with the appeal procedure. He knew that judicial words spoken in anger did not go down well over the road in Parliament House.
    Disdainfully, he flicked his manicured hand in my direction. Feeling more relief than I would ever admit, I took my seat in the well of the court, opposite the Procurator Fiscal.
    This case, in technical lawyer speak, had all the makings of being a Right Royal Bastard.

SEVEN
     
    The Fiscal and I had been at university together. Frank Pearson was a mature student when we were both studying together, but the age gap made no difference to our friendship. I always had time for him and I liked the way he never made assumptions about me or my competitive streak.
    The sheriff clerk looked disparagingly at me as she called the case. I was grateful that indictments are called in chambers, which meant that no member of the press or public was allowed. As things stood, the people who were allowed to be there were causing me enough trouble without any help from outsiders.
    ‘Are you Kailash Bernadette Coutts?’ The clerk’s voice rang out around the courtroom.
    The surprise caught in my throat. Bernadette? But then I recalled her Irish mother and realised it could have been worse; she might have had my first name.
    The clerk’s voice went on as I waited impatiently for my turn.
    ‘How do you plead?’
    That was it. My cue. My curtain call. I leaped to my feet.
    ‘Brodie McLennan. I appear on behalf of Ms Coutts, who makes no plea or declaration at this stage.’
    On indictment charges, you do not plead guilty or not guilty, you do not declare your position, you do not give anything away. I expected to be out of that oaf’s court as quickly as possible, because I couldn’t ask for bail on a murder charge, and I was determined to leave no clue behind me. Kailash would be remanded in prison until the trial, and I would have a chance to reconsider my position at that point. I could already see myself this evening, languishing in a bubble bath, working out whether I should go on with this case, working out how to get out of it. My reverie was soon broken.
    ‘Ms McLennan, approach the bench.’
    Frank Pearson was already there, and deep in discussion with Sheriff Strathclyde.
    ‘The Fiscal has moved that we carry out the judicial examination now in view of the media interest in this case.’
    Frank raised his eyebrows in apology to me. This clearly wasn’t his decision–the word had come from much higher up. I felt as if I had been ambushed and took little comfort from the fact that Frank probably felt the same way.
    I didn’t have many cards to play.
    ‘I haven’t had time to discuss this with my client.’
    Kailash’s performance at the judicial examination was crucial to the outcome of the case, and I didn’twant her to be thrown in there before I had a chance to discuss matters with her.
    Sheriff Strathclyde was quick to put the boot in.
    ‘I hope you’re not suggesting, Ms McLennan, that you would be coaching your client?’
    As it is illegal in Scotland to prepare witnesses, I hastily denied it. Under the circumstances, I had no objection that would be upheld. Swiftly, I moved towards the dock. Unlike me, Kailash