章 3: Chapter 3: A heated exchange

Judy Bowman, Elisabeth's third in the team, put in her young bobbed head, hair and eyes an exact match in light brown. 'Coffee?'

Robert smiled his thanks. His smile was one of his good features. Genuine and often used, Elisabeth had already noticed its effect - others broke into returning smiles and unconsciously wore them for long minutes after. It was their second day and already he was smiling less with her.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Milk, no sugar.'

'So,' he persisted, 'How are you going to find them?'

'I'll talk to your investigator. Someone has to know where they are.'

'Who's he going to question that he hasn't already?'

'He's going to have to talk to everyone again. And let's not fight over this, it's going to be tough enough.' It wasn't a plea or a request. His body expanded with the breath he drew. Judy received brief thanks from both for the coffee. When she left she did so closing the door carefully. Even so their muted voices came through the walls.

'I have no intention of fighting with you, but you've been here less than two days and already you're saying I haven't done my job properly.'

'You've seen him,' Elisabeth said. 'You've seen that scar. That friend of his nearly killed him. He opened up the whole side of Russell's face with that rifle butt. Beat him senseless and continued to beat and kick until stopped by the police. Jesus, Robert.'

'I'm sorry - have I missed something?'

'Missed something? Isn't that what this is all about; someone capable of violence.'

'They'd just found out he'd knifed a man to death. If Waite hadn't hit him he'd probably've ended up the same way.'

Elisabeth sat down and put finger pads to lips. She spoke between them. 'Is that what you think?'

Now she had both angered and embarrassed him. 'Does it matter what I think.'

'You're instructing. And if you can say it to me who else have you said it to? It won't help me and it certainly won't help Russell - talking of not doing your job properly.'

He blinked and went rigid. She watched him clamp his lips with his teeth to prevent words that shouldn't be said. He at least would stay the right side of the line. She realised just how far over it she had been. 'I apologise. Obviously that won't affect how you do your job.' She glanced at her watch. 'Do you do anything for lunch? Can I buy you a sandwich?'

'Thanks,' he said, 'but I'm going to the gym. Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps me sane.'

She watched his departing back, stiff with unforgiveness. Sanity was also high on her list.

After lunch they got back into it.

'The thing,' Robert said, 'about these automaton cases is that if they thought about it for a bit they'd realise just how much harder it makes their defence. They seem to think they can't be found guilty if they say they don't remember.'

'You enlightened him though.'

'He's adamant he can't remember. I explained the rules for introducing evidence and how much more difficult it will be if we can't proceed that way. I also tried drawing him out by telling him he'd probably have a better chance with the jury if his memory returned and he could show some remorse.'

'The problem with that, of course,' Elisabeth said, 'is that if he really can't remember anything, saying that he can now would leave him without a motive. If he really can't remember, what reason can he give for doing it?' He didn't answer. 'Can you see that?'

'Yes. And either way he's stuffed.' He waited, curious as to what she would say.

She sipped water from her coffee mug and sat holding it between both hands. 'Let's assume - and we are going to assume - that he's telling the truth. The medical evidence, Dr Westmore's, bears out that his injuries could well have induced that state. But he makes a point of saying that it's impossible to tell whether it's genuine or feigned. So neither side wins a point, except,' she lifted a finger from the mug 'except in as much as Russell did sustain injuries to the head, among others, that almost killed him. A jury might give him the benefit of the doubt with the amnesia.'

'But the crunch line is they have a witness, the wife. She saw Russell stab her husband. Believing or disbelieving the amnesia is irrelevant.'

Elisabeth persisted. 'If the jury is inclined to believe the amnesia they're halfway to being on Russell's side, halfway to wanting to believe him incapable of murdering someone.' She saw his doubt. 'They'll be feeling sorry for him. They'll be looking to us for help. People don't want to send someone to gaol, especially for a long time, unless they're very sure they're guilty.'

Robert leaned back, the morning forgotten, catching his hair in his fingers and running them over his scalp. Momentarily it stood in damp brown channels then flopped under its own weight to the right. 'Remember this was no accidental stabbing.' His hands fell to his thighs. 'The supposition is that Russell decided to rob the store, whether it was planned or spontaneous we don't know. According to the wife, when her husband refused to hand over the money he walked calmly around the counter, raised the knife and deliberately stabbed the man. She assumed he was just going to take the money and was totally unprepared for what happened.'

'And if Russell was so cool about it why did he leave his knife in the victim? Why didn't he take the money? Why didn't Stavros evade the knife? Surely he saw it coming.'

Robert snorted. 'Are you always so vigilant that you couldn't be taken by surprise? It's all there,' his arm swept the documents on her desk. 'He was slicing open a packet of chips at the counter before demanding the cash.'

'He walked around the counter with the knife in his hand and they weren't even a little apprehensive?'

'Things are rarely that neat.'

'Maybe.' She was thinking. 'And the wife is the only witness. No-one else was in the shop.'

'Except for Russell. And Greg Waite and Lisa Moody outside in the car.'

'And they didn't know what he was going to do?'

'So they say.'

She rubbed her fingertips back and forth across her mouth, then suddenly dropped her forehead to the heel of her palm. 'Maybe what we should be doing - instead of trying to prove Russell innocent - is trying to show that someone else could be guilty.' She grinned, more a grimace than anything reminiscent of humour. 'Just thinking aloud. But you have to admit the possibilities.'

'Yeah,' he said. 'The wife's a definite.'

'And then there's the mate who almost killed him.'

The thought sparked Robert, but only momentarily. 'Why would the wife say it was Russell if it wasn't?'

She sighed. 'Difficult, I agree.'

He stood to flex his shoulders. He wasn't going to hide how he felt. 'I think you're wrong.'

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章 4: Chapter 4: Lunch with a private investigator

It was going to be hard. 'I've been told that before.' She could see him debating whether to ask the results or let it go. He let it go.

Elisabeth introduced a new name. 'There's a Sydney neurosurgeon. William Liu at St Vincent's. I'd like him to have a look at Russell but I don't know if he'll traipse all the way down here. I'll go to Sydney. Can you or Judy arrange it?'

'What can he add that Westmore hasn't already said?' He saw her draw breath. 'There needs to be a reason. And if anyone talks to him it should be me.'

She leaned forward. 'He's Professor of Neurosurgery. He's the best. If he will say Russell has amnesia it would be worth it. And if you don't mind I'd like to talk to him.' She was conciliatory. Barristers should leave proofing witnesses to the solicitor, but she wanted to see this one. 'As for the others, I'd like to have a look at whoever I can. This stuff,' she gave the papers before her a flick, 'only takes you so far. Would you shut the door on your way out.'

He did, feeling outmanoeuvred and manipulated.

Alone Elisabeth picked up the phone, making several calls that occupied most of the afternoon. With Joseph Gaudry, the private investigator the office used in its investigations, she made arrangements to meet after work at a local restaurant for an early evening meal. She met him strolling, as he had said he would be, up and down the tree and park-bench lined street outside.

'No trouble finding the place?' he asked as they shook hands. 'Right. Let's get out of the heat.'

At five thirty they were the only customers and as they walked through the door were greeted and shown to a table at the back. The lower eating level was surrounded on three sides by glass that gave views of small courtyards for fair weather dining, or for those who couldn't last the meal without lighting up. Glass walls slid back to break the barrier between the internal and external tables and an easterly blended with the air conditioning around their legs.

Gaudry was an individual who had learned how to dull the distinctive edges. From clipped even-cut dark blond hair to clean-shaven face, white shirt, dark grey and white diagonally striped tie, mid-grey summer weight suit and dark grey moccasins, he was smart but unremarkable. As he shed his jacket Elisabeth noticed that the lack of fat around his face, neck and hands extended to the shape under his shirt. 'Have you spoken to Robert Murphy today?'

He settled down and lifted his hands away to give the waitress clear access to his lap with the napkin. His acknowledgment included his thanks to the dark-haired girl and Elisabeth's remark. 'Ran into him at lunch,' he said as the waitress repeated the process with Elisabeth. 'He said you'd be ringing me.'

They were being offered menus and Elisabeth ordered a caesar salad without consulting. Joe ran his eye over the menu and wine list. 'The tuna for me, thanks, Naomi, a bottle of the Jeir Creek, and some bread while we're waiting.'

Small talk was not part of Elisabeth's plan. After the waitress left she said, 'I spoke to the Principal of Glenelg High School today.' She stopped when the waitress returned to pour the wine.

Joe raised his glass, and his eyebrows.

'I apologise if this seems rude,' Elisabeth said. 'But allow me a little latitude. I'm new and I want to hear things for myself.' His expression modified. It would not have mattered if it hadn't. 'The Principal said that he and several teachers had remembered more since you contacted them. Apparently Russell was a bit of a loner but there was one kid he hung around with, a Simon Constantine. They gave me his home details and I managed to catch his mother. She said they've known Russell since he was thirteen. His family moved to the area around then and Russell met Simon at school. They became best mates. She said she met Russell's parents several times at school functions and remembers that around the time Russell went jackarooing they returned to live in America. Mr Montgomery was apparently from there and had married and stayed in Australia. He worked for a computing firm, she thinks. She also remembers that the eldest son wanted to go to West Point but Russell wanted to stay in Australia. The Constantine's offered to put Russell up but he was set on going to Western Australia. She said they were away on holiday when he was trying to contact them.'

'You've been busy.'

Elisabeth went on, 'I intend bringing Mrs Constantine and maybe Simon up for the trial. I want the jury to see Russell when he realises he's supposed to know them.'

'That's risky.'

Another table filled unnoticed.

'I don't think so. I believe he has amnesia.'

'What makes you so certain?'

Elisabeth went to speak but took a sip of wine instead. The glass shook. 'It's a chance I'm willing to take.'

He gave the brief vignette some thought. 'You don't have to risk it. Bring them up now and let them meet.'

She shook her head. 'It would defeat the purpose.'

He felt like shaking his. Instead he gave his attention to his food.

'I'd like you to check out Waite and Moody. And the Stavros family.'

He finished chewing, rinsed his mouth, refilled his glass and asked why.

'Can you do it?'

'Yes.' He laid his utensils down. 'But why?'

'I want everything you can dig up.'

'What are you trying to do?'

The tables enhanced intimacy. She saw the inner corner fine lines under his eyes crinkle with otherwise undetectable suspicion. 'Find a weakness. If there's any room for doubt I want to know about it.'

'How do you intend getting around the fact that Mrs Stavros saw it?'

'Robert says she was nervous at the committal. Needed an interpreter.'

'Of course she was nervous. And her English isn't good.'

'It's hard to believe she hasn't picked it up after thirty years.'

Joe's voice took on a lecturing quality. 'You can find it as hard to believe as you like, but the fact is that there's an awful lot of people like her. Everyone speaks the mother tongue at home and because the woman stays at home she doesn't get the chance to learn her new country's language.'

'I know. I'm just saying that I think she probably knows enough to understand and be understood.'

Joe became patient. 'In a crisis people revert to what's comfortable.'

'Belligerently nervous, Robert said.'

It took him a moment to dovetail this. 'Well, maybe she was anxious that her husband wouldn't receive justice. If she couldn't understand everything she'd naturally have been worried.'

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