MURDER BRIEF by Mark Dryden Read Free Book Online Page A

sat facing each other across the desk.
    Robyn couldn’t help staring at
Mrs Muldoon’s moustache. Had it grown? It seemed bigger. "What do
you want to talk about?"
    Mrs Muldoon’s eyes flitted
around the room to make sure they were alone. "I was watching one
of those American police dramas on TV last night. You know, the one
with the lesbian forensic examiner who looks after two disabled
orphans. Anyway, do you know they can do a forensic examination of
bite marks?"
    "I’m sure they can."
    "We should do that, to prove
Vinnie didn’t bite the postman."
    "I’m afraid we can’t."
    "Why not?"
    "Because the bite marks have
healed."
    "You mean, they’ve destroyed the
evidence?"
    "No, the marks have healed. It’s
a natural process."
    "They could have examined them
before they healed?"
    "Yes, I suppose so. But that
would have cost thousands of dollars."
    "That’s no excuse."
    Not for the first time, Robyn
wanted to scream that the whole universe didn’t revolve around her
fucking dog. She resisted the urge. Instead, she glanced at the
clock and wondered what she’d done to deserve Mrs Muldoon as a
client. At least, for enduring this hell, she would appreciate all
her other clients, no matter how horrible they might be.
    Mrs Muldoon leaned forward. "So
dear, you ready for the trial?"
    "Of course."
    Robyn vaguely recalled the trial
was in a month or so. But she usually kept Mrs Muldoon in the back
of her mind and couldn’t recall the exact date.
    Oh, hell, she’d better check.
She picked up her diary and turned over the pages. Ah, yes, it was
due to start in three weeks time, on 16 June.
    The penny dropped. Jesus. The
Markham trial was scheduled to start a few days before that and run
for at least a week. The trial dates clashed. Damn. What should she
do?
    The Bar Rules included the
cab-rank principle: that a barrister - like a taxi driver - can’t
dump a client because a better fare comes along. She was ethically
bound to retain the Muldoon brief and return the Markham one.
    But there was no goddamn way
she’d do that. She wasn’t going to dump the greatest brief she’d
ever received so that she could represent Mrs Muldoon and her
vicious schnauzer in the Local Court for nothing.
    Robyn boiled with frustration.
Maybe she could flick the Muldoon brief to another barrister. But
whoever took the brief would have to spend at least a day preparing
for the trial and at least another day in court, for free. Who’d be
stupid enough to do that? Robyn only took the brief because she was
young and naïve. If she was offered it now, she’d run a mile. No
question.
    Mrs Muldoon saw the look of
concern on Robyn’s face. "Something wrong, dear?"
    Robyn managed a grim smile. "Oh,
no, no. I’m definitely, umm, ready."
    Now completely distracted, Robyn
let Mrs Muldoon burble on for another ten minutes, without
listening, before abruptly telling her she had to see another
client.
    Mrs Muldoon looked annoyed and
said she’d almost finished. But Robyn rose and defiantly escorted
her to the lifts.
    The solicitor instructing Robyn
in the matter was a suburban practitioner called George Kotakis.
Because he was also acting pro bono and now heartily despised Mrs
Muldoon, he’d shown little interest and made Robyn do all the
work.
    Robyn called him at his office.
After they’d exchanged hellos, she said: "George, I’ve got a
problem."
    "What?"
    "I’ve been offered a junior
brief in a murder trial."
    "Which one?"
    "The Markham case."
    "Congratulations. That’s
fantastic."
    "Yeah. But it’s in the same week
as the Muldoon trial."
    A long silence. "Really?"
    "Yes."
    "Shit."
    "So I was wondering if you could
find another barrister to do it."
    "You’re kidding, right? Nobody
will take the brief. Mrs Muldoon doesn’t have a cent - not a
zack."
    "You must know some barristers
who owe you a favour."
    "Yeah, I do. But I won’t call in
any IOUs for Mrs Muldoon. Definitely not."
    "You sure?"
    "Yeah."
    George could appear himself for
Mrs