Dark Angels by Grace Monroe Page A

seemed unperturbed. She was eyeballing Sheriff Strathclyde and he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
    ‘Kailash? I can’t stop this judicial examination.’
    Her face did not even register my presence. Trancelike she continued to stare at Strathclyde. I assumed that her stares were to unsettle him, and I assumed that she was trying to unsettle him because he was–or had been–a client of hers. That was all I needed. Maybe she thought she could bribe him or embarrass him into calling off the case. If so, she must have conveniently forgotten just who she was accused of killing. I was losing patience.
    ‘Kailash!’ I called as loudly as I dared. ‘Listen to me. The Fiscal is about to ask you questions. However, you are entitled to refuse to answer them.’
    My heart was beating, a mixture of adrenalin and anger. She wasn’t listening to me and was bound to throw away any slight chance she may have. I had to press on–professional ethics meant that even clients who wouldn’t deign to give me a moment of their attention still had to be advised.
    ‘You don’t have to answer any questions, and mynormal advice would be to say nothing as that is the safest option, but–and it is a big “but”–if you have a good defence, and don’t state it, the Crown can comment on your failure to the jury. Kailash, I don’t know whether you have a good defence or not. This is your call. It really depends on how brave you are.’ I finished my whispered comments to Kailash feeling more of a need to shout explicit advice rather than leave so much to her judgment. She was much calmer than me.
    Again, no reaction. Her lack of emotion was worrying me. How was she going to act and react when she got up there? Was she going to take the psychopath route? The wounded tart with a heart? Or continue her mad staring at Strathclyde? It mattered to me. It mattered a lot. When a trial lawyer gets started, the victim and the accused are lost. It is merely a fight, a game with the prosecution. And it’s a game I like to win.
    ‘Kailash, this matters. This will all be tape recorded and go before a jury.’
    She surprised me by clutching my arm and nipping it.
    ‘Did you say this will be tape recorded?’ I nodded my head, resentfully rubbing at the place on my arm where her nails had dug in.
    ‘Is there any way the tape can be interfered with?’ ‘No, of course not. It’s kept and authorised by the Fiscal.’
    ‘And do you trust him? Do you trust that process?’
    ‘Kailash, what’s going on? Of course I do. I know Frank Pearson. He’s a good man. But I also know theprocess. They’re the ones who want this to happen. They’re not going to scupper their own procedures. It’s nothing to be scared of.’
    ‘Scared?’ she almost spluttered. ‘Why do you think I would be scared?’
    ‘Well, if you’re thinking from the other side and actually believe you, or someone you know, could get in and wreck the tape if you don’t come out of it too well, you can forget that right now. No chance,’ I warned her.
    She chewed her lips as she was thinking. I have the same bad habit–it saves my nails, but the inside of my mouth resembles a slasher movie.
    ‘Don’t stand in front of me when I am being asked questions. I want to see him,’ she informed me in an emotionless voice.
    ‘Kailash, it won’t work. I don’t know how you know him–although it doesn’t take much imagination to guess–but that won’t cut any ice here. It doesn’t matter if he likes to dress up as a schoolgirl or get his arse smeared with peanut butter while a whippet licks it off, you’ve been accused of murder. That’s all that counts.’
    ‘You’ve got quite a vivid imagination there, Brodie,’ she responded. ‘I could use you.’
    ‘Don’t bother flattering me. It’s standard practice for lawyers to act as a buffer between clients and the bench.’
    That was true, but I was also put out at being sidelined. I wasn’t a bit player in this. I was a