Six of Hearts
Page 38
“You okay, darlin’?” Jay asks, breaking through my thoughts. He obviously saw me staring at Brian.
I glance at him and then down at the papers in front of me. “Yeah, it’s just — there’s something off about that guy, you know. I can’t figure it out because he just seems so normal.”
Jay strokes at his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. “Have you ever read any Hannah Arendt?” I must look lost, because he explains further. “She’s a political theorist.”
I shake my head at him. “No, I never went to college, Jay. People who haven’t been to college don’t generally read political theorists.”
I’m not sure why I snipe at him. It’s probably because I know that he knows exactly what it is that’s “off” about Brian, but he won’t tell me.
“Neither did I. But yeah, I get what you mean. Anyway, she wrote this book about the trial of a Nazi lieutenant named Adolf Eichmann in the 1960s. Arendt was a Jew who left Germany during Hitler’s reign, and during the trial this guy had to face up to all the atrocities he committed. Things only a monster could conceive of. However, he was examined by psychologists, and it was determined that he wasn’t a psychopath, that in fact he was entirely normal. This left Arendt to determine that perfectly ordinary, everyday people were capable of crimes normally associated with only the most depraved, wicked members of society. She called it the banality of evil. That’s what you see when you look at Brian Scott, Matilda. He is mundane, run of the mill, humdrum, looks like a carbon copy of every other professional man his age, and yet….”
He trails off and looks away. I feel like I’m holding my breath. “And yet what, Jay?” I ask eagerly.
“The judge is here,” he says, turning back and rubbing his hands together. “Looks like this party is about to get started.”
Dad swoops in then, talking hurriedly to Jay, so I don’t get the chance to question him further. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jessie sitting in the gallery, and she gives me a cheerful smile and a wave. I wave back and settle into my seat.
I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling this is going to be a long and interesting day.
Twenty-Seven
Dad’s going to call a witness to the stand, a woman named Emma Feelan who works as Una Harris’ P.A. I’m actually stunned that they convinced her to be a witness. And really, I’m not sure if Una was aware of this, because when Mrs Feelan is called forward, her mouth falls open in surprise
I watch her expression of shock turn to one of fury as she levels her catty green eyes on her employee. Or should I say, “former employee”? At least, I’m sure she will be before the day is out. I watch the woman as she takes the stand and the registrar has her swear the oath. It takes me a discombobulated minute to realise that I know this woman. It’s the cougar. The one Jay and I had to rescue Jessie from when she’d tried to get her to have a threesome that included her husband.
What. The. Eff. Is. Going. On?
Gone is the jewellery and semi-slutty outfit she’d been wearing the first time I saw her at the casino. Now her hair is slicked back into a neat bun, and she’s wearing a very respectable pantsuit. Immediately, my head whips back to Jessie where she’s sitting in the gallery. She gives me a mischievous wink as I mouth, What the f**k?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, because seriously, I don’t believe for one second that this is a simple coincidence. I try to catch Jay’s attention, but he’s staring stoically forward.
Dad stands up for the examination in chief. He holds his head high, even though his limp is evident and his suit is worn and inexpensive. For a second, I forget about my suspicions. In this moment, I’m simply proud to see my dad, a man who’s been through so much and spent so long working crappy small-claims cases, step forward to represent the plaintiff in one of the most high-profile lawsuits this country has seen in years.
I’m so incredibly proud of him.
“Where do you work, Mrs Feelan?” asks Dad.
“I’ve been personal assistant to Una Harris for the past six years,” Emma replies, holding her hands firmly in her lap.
“Would you call yourself a content employee?”
She furrows her brow. “Excuse me?”
“Are you happy in your work?” Dad elaborates.
Emma glances at Una for the briefest of seconds. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” When I look at Una, I see her mouth draw into a severely tight line. Someone is definitely not pleased.
“Are you unhappy in your work?”
“In a sense, yes.”
“Why are you unhappy?”
It takes a long time for Emma to answer. She leans forward into the mic, the word on the tip of her tongue before it finally comes out. “Because of how my boss treats me.”
There are murmurings among the jury, and then Dad goes on, “What kind of treatment are you referring to?”
“Well, she can be harsh at times. Sometimes she’s threatening and verbally abusive. She also makes me carry out tasks I’m uncomfortable with.”
“Can you explain what these tasks are and why they made you uncomfortable?”
“She would make me collect her prescription medication on a regular basis. It made me uncomfortable because it’s not in my job description. My duties are mainly administration.”
Una lets out an audible huff of annoyance from her place in the courtroom. When I look at Jay, he has his arms folded, and there’s the slightest touch of a smile on his face. Then I study Emma, and there’s no denying that she’d rather be anywhere else than on that witness stand right now, no matter if she is unhappy in her job. Somehow, Jay has coerced her into being here. I can just tell.
Dad walks over to the desk and picks up several sheets of paper. He hands them to Emma.
“Are you familiar with these documents, Mrs Feelan?”
“Yes.”
“Where have you seen them before?”
“Miss Harris had me regularly visit her doctor and collect these prescriptions before going to the pharmacy to have them filled.”
“Was there any money exchanged?”
“Yes.”
“How much money?”
Emma scratches at her arm before answering, “Anywhere between two hundred and five hundred euros.”
“Did you find this unusual?”
“I did, but it wasn’t my job to question it. I carried out many tasks for Miss Harris. She’s a very busy woman.”
“I have no doubt. Did you also pay money to the pharmacist who filled the prescription, that is to say, over and above the usual cost of the drugs?”
“Yes.”
Oh, my God. Several people in the gallery gasp in surprise. It’s quite obvious where Dad is going with this, even if on the surface the topic might seem irrelevant.
“In your personal experience, is this usual when collecting medication?”
“No. I have never paid for medicine for myself in this way.”
“In your experience dealing with Miss Harris, did you know her to have any long-standing illnesses that would necessitate the kind of medication she was having you collect for her?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“And in your personal opinion, would you say that Miss Harris was having you procure these medications because she was addicted?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes she would act unusually irritable or confused at the office, but I put it down to stress.”
“Objection,” Thomas Jenkins interrupts. “There is no evidence to prove that my client is not sick, and this line of questioning could be incriminating the witness.”
Dad picks up the prescription papers again and hands them to the judge. “I will bring your attention to the amounts that were being prescribed each month. Even if Miss Harris was severely ill, no law-abiding doctor would prescribe these levels of medication.”
“Overruled,” says the judge.
Dad returns his attention to Emma. “Did you ever try to refuse to carry out Miss Harris’ bidding?”
Emma swallows. “Yes. On several occasions I refused and she threatened to sack me from my job. She also said she’d make certain that I couldn’t find another one.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“I was in fear for my livelihood.”
“One final question. In your personal opinion, do you think that Miss Harris could be trusted to carry out properly researched journalism while under the influence of the kind of medication she was taking?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Mrs Feelan.”
Thomas Jenkins steps up for the cross examination, and although he does an extremely good job of questioning Emma and salvaging some of Una’s reputation, Dad’s point has been made clear. Una Harris is an addict, unfit to carry out her job, and therefore none of what she has written about Jay can be considered credible. Dad even brings a medical professional to the stand to give evidence of how the drugs Una was taking could hinder her, physically and mentally.
When the court adjourns for a break, I rise out of my seat with purpose. I want to talk to Jessie. I catch up to her as she moves to leave the gallery, grabbing her by the arm and practically dragging her outside with me.
“Hey, easy does it, Matilda!” she exclaims. “You’re gonna pull my arm out of the socket.”
“I want to talk to you in private,” I tell her, leading her to the ladies’ disabled bathroom farthest away from the courtrooms. We go inside, and it’s thankfully empty.
I let go of her arm and put my hands on my hips. “What’s going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“The flipping cougar is Una Harris’ assistant, Jessie! Did you and Jay think I wouldn’t remember her? I’m not stupid.”
“Listen….” she begins, but before she can say anything more, the bathroom door opens and Jay strides in.
“Leave us, Jessie,” he says, his voice commanding.
“We’re having a conversation. And if you hadn’t noticed, this is the ladies’. You’re not allowed in here,” I snap.
Jay doesn’t even look at me. “Jessie. Go.”
Without another word she hurries from the room, leaving me alone with Jay. All of a sudden, I feel suffocated. His very presence sucks up all the air in both a good and a bad way. We stand in silence for a moment before he turns and goes to flick over the lock. When he looks at me, his eyes are dark with temper.
“You need to calm the f**k down, Watson.”
“Why should I? First I overhear you and Dad arguing last night, and now the cougar from the casino is Una Harris’ assistant? Not only that, but she’s standing as a witness. I know I promised not to ask questions, but things are just getting ridiculous. You can’t continue to keep me in the dark.”
Something shifts in Jay’s expression. “You overheard me and your dad?”
“Yes,” I reply, exasperated. “Not that any of it made much sense.”
He moves toward me then, backing me up into the wall. His hand goes to my cheek, stroking downward before settling on my neck. “I thought you were sleeping, darlin’.”
Tingles break out where he’s touching me, and I swallow. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who can pretend.”
He looks me dead in the eye, his expression fierce. “I never pretend. Not with you. You want me to tell you the truth? Okay, here’s the truth. Jessie and I targeted Emma Feelan a long while ago. Jessie started up a thing with her, took a few embarrassing pictures, and recorded what happened the night she and her husband invited her to have a threesome. Jessie then suggested to Emma that if she didn’t stand as a witness in the trial, those pictures and that recording might fall into the wrong hands. That’s it.”
“That’s blackmail. And illegal. I believe where you come from they call it ‘fruit of the poisonous tree.’”
“We’re not using the blackmail as evidence. We’re using blackmail to get her to give genuine evidence. The proof of Una’s drug use is all legit. In fact, Mrs Feelan handed it over quite freely. The persuasion technique used is a necessary evil.”
I let out a joyless laugh. “‘Persuasion technique’? Okay, if that’s what you want to call it. So, just how many of these necessary evils have you committed, Jay?”
“A few.”
“Shit.”
He smiles. “I like it when you swear. Just so you know, big f**king turn-on.”
“Are you being glib right now? Seriously?” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.
He grabs my hand and rubs his thumb gently down the centre of my palm. “Don’t hate me yet. Just give me a couple more days. A couple more days, and I promise you, no more secrets, yeah?”
“How can you justify this? That poor woman is probably going to lose her job now. Do you even care?”
For a second, a strange expression comes over him. He ignores my question but simply replies, “Just wait, Matilda. Wait for the bigger picture.”
I stare at him for a long moment, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his eyes. I let out a long sigh. His thumb on my palm makes me tremble. This is the closest he’s gotten to me in a while, and I can feel every inch of his big, hard body pressing me into the wall. “Fine. I’ll wait. But I swear, this better be good.”
He rubs his hands up and down my arms now. “I promise it will be.” A quick breath escapes him, his eyes looking back and forth between mine. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
I glance at him and then down at the papers in front of me. “Yeah, it’s just — there’s something off about that guy, you know. I can’t figure it out because he just seems so normal.”
Jay strokes at his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. “Have you ever read any Hannah Arendt?” I must look lost, because he explains further. “She’s a political theorist.”
I shake my head at him. “No, I never went to college, Jay. People who haven’t been to college don’t generally read political theorists.”
I’m not sure why I snipe at him. It’s probably because I know that he knows exactly what it is that’s “off” about Brian, but he won’t tell me.
“Neither did I. But yeah, I get what you mean. Anyway, she wrote this book about the trial of a Nazi lieutenant named Adolf Eichmann in the 1960s. Arendt was a Jew who left Germany during Hitler’s reign, and during the trial this guy had to face up to all the atrocities he committed. Things only a monster could conceive of. However, he was examined by psychologists, and it was determined that he wasn’t a psychopath, that in fact he was entirely normal. This left Arendt to determine that perfectly ordinary, everyday people were capable of crimes normally associated with only the most depraved, wicked members of society. She called it the banality of evil. That’s what you see when you look at Brian Scott, Matilda. He is mundane, run of the mill, humdrum, looks like a carbon copy of every other professional man his age, and yet….”
He trails off and looks away. I feel like I’m holding my breath. “And yet what, Jay?” I ask eagerly.
“The judge is here,” he says, turning back and rubbing his hands together. “Looks like this party is about to get started.”
Dad swoops in then, talking hurriedly to Jay, so I don’t get the chance to question him further. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jessie sitting in the gallery, and she gives me a cheerful smile and a wave. I wave back and settle into my seat.
I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling this is going to be a long and interesting day.
Twenty-Seven
Dad’s going to call a witness to the stand, a woman named Emma Feelan who works as Una Harris’ P.A. I’m actually stunned that they convinced her to be a witness. And really, I’m not sure if Una was aware of this, because when Mrs Feelan is called forward, her mouth falls open in surprise
I watch her expression of shock turn to one of fury as she levels her catty green eyes on her employee. Or should I say, “former employee”? At least, I’m sure she will be before the day is out. I watch the woman as she takes the stand and the registrar has her swear the oath. It takes me a discombobulated minute to realise that I know this woman. It’s the cougar. The one Jay and I had to rescue Jessie from when she’d tried to get her to have a threesome that included her husband.
What. The. Eff. Is. Going. On?
Gone is the jewellery and semi-slutty outfit she’d been wearing the first time I saw her at the casino. Now her hair is slicked back into a neat bun, and she’s wearing a very respectable pantsuit. Immediately, my head whips back to Jessie where she’s sitting in the gallery. She gives me a mischievous wink as I mouth, What the f**k?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, because seriously, I don’t believe for one second that this is a simple coincidence. I try to catch Jay’s attention, but he’s staring stoically forward.
Dad stands up for the examination in chief. He holds his head high, even though his limp is evident and his suit is worn and inexpensive. For a second, I forget about my suspicions. In this moment, I’m simply proud to see my dad, a man who’s been through so much and spent so long working crappy small-claims cases, step forward to represent the plaintiff in one of the most high-profile lawsuits this country has seen in years.
I’m so incredibly proud of him.
“Where do you work, Mrs Feelan?” asks Dad.
“I’ve been personal assistant to Una Harris for the past six years,” Emma replies, holding her hands firmly in her lap.
“Would you call yourself a content employee?”
She furrows her brow. “Excuse me?”
“Are you happy in your work?” Dad elaborates.
Emma glances at Una for the briefest of seconds. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” When I look at Una, I see her mouth draw into a severely tight line. Someone is definitely not pleased.
“Are you unhappy in your work?”
“In a sense, yes.”
“Why are you unhappy?”
It takes a long time for Emma to answer. She leans forward into the mic, the word on the tip of her tongue before it finally comes out. “Because of how my boss treats me.”
There are murmurings among the jury, and then Dad goes on, “What kind of treatment are you referring to?”
“Well, she can be harsh at times. Sometimes she’s threatening and verbally abusive. She also makes me carry out tasks I’m uncomfortable with.”
“Can you explain what these tasks are and why they made you uncomfortable?”
“She would make me collect her prescription medication on a regular basis. It made me uncomfortable because it’s not in my job description. My duties are mainly administration.”
Una lets out an audible huff of annoyance from her place in the courtroom. When I look at Jay, he has his arms folded, and there’s the slightest touch of a smile on his face. Then I study Emma, and there’s no denying that she’d rather be anywhere else than on that witness stand right now, no matter if she is unhappy in her job. Somehow, Jay has coerced her into being here. I can just tell.
Dad walks over to the desk and picks up several sheets of paper. He hands them to Emma.
“Are you familiar with these documents, Mrs Feelan?”
“Yes.”
“Where have you seen them before?”
“Miss Harris had me regularly visit her doctor and collect these prescriptions before going to the pharmacy to have them filled.”
“Was there any money exchanged?”
“Yes.”
“How much money?”
Emma scratches at her arm before answering, “Anywhere between two hundred and five hundred euros.”
“Did you find this unusual?”
“I did, but it wasn’t my job to question it. I carried out many tasks for Miss Harris. She’s a very busy woman.”
“I have no doubt. Did you also pay money to the pharmacist who filled the prescription, that is to say, over and above the usual cost of the drugs?”
“Yes.”
Oh, my God. Several people in the gallery gasp in surprise. It’s quite obvious where Dad is going with this, even if on the surface the topic might seem irrelevant.
“In your personal experience, is this usual when collecting medication?”
“No. I have never paid for medicine for myself in this way.”
“In your experience dealing with Miss Harris, did you know her to have any long-standing illnesses that would necessitate the kind of medication she was having you collect for her?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“And in your personal opinion, would you say that Miss Harris was having you procure these medications because she was addicted?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes she would act unusually irritable or confused at the office, but I put it down to stress.”
“Objection,” Thomas Jenkins interrupts. “There is no evidence to prove that my client is not sick, and this line of questioning could be incriminating the witness.”
Dad picks up the prescription papers again and hands them to the judge. “I will bring your attention to the amounts that were being prescribed each month. Even if Miss Harris was severely ill, no law-abiding doctor would prescribe these levels of medication.”
“Overruled,” says the judge.
Dad returns his attention to Emma. “Did you ever try to refuse to carry out Miss Harris’ bidding?”
Emma swallows. “Yes. On several occasions I refused and she threatened to sack me from my job. She also said she’d make certain that I couldn’t find another one.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“I was in fear for my livelihood.”
“One final question. In your personal opinion, do you think that Miss Harris could be trusted to carry out properly researched journalism while under the influence of the kind of medication she was taking?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Mrs Feelan.”
Thomas Jenkins steps up for the cross examination, and although he does an extremely good job of questioning Emma and salvaging some of Una’s reputation, Dad’s point has been made clear. Una Harris is an addict, unfit to carry out her job, and therefore none of what she has written about Jay can be considered credible. Dad even brings a medical professional to the stand to give evidence of how the drugs Una was taking could hinder her, physically and mentally.
When the court adjourns for a break, I rise out of my seat with purpose. I want to talk to Jessie. I catch up to her as she moves to leave the gallery, grabbing her by the arm and practically dragging her outside with me.
“Hey, easy does it, Matilda!” she exclaims. “You’re gonna pull my arm out of the socket.”
“I want to talk to you in private,” I tell her, leading her to the ladies’ disabled bathroom farthest away from the courtrooms. We go inside, and it’s thankfully empty.
I let go of her arm and put my hands on my hips. “What’s going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“The flipping cougar is Una Harris’ assistant, Jessie! Did you and Jay think I wouldn’t remember her? I’m not stupid.”
“Listen….” she begins, but before she can say anything more, the bathroom door opens and Jay strides in.
“Leave us, Jessie,” he says, his voice commanding.
“We’re having a conversation. And if you hadn’t noticed, this is the ladies’. You’re not allowed in here,” I snap.
Jay doesn’t even look at me. “Jessie. Go.”
Without another word she hurries from the room, leaving me alone with Jay. All of a sudden, I feel suffocated. His very presence sucks up all the air in both a good and a bad way. We stand in silence for a moment before he turns and goes to flick over the lock. When he looks at me, his eyes are dark with temper.
“You need to calm the f**k down, Watson.”
“Why should I? First I overhear you and Dad arguing last night, and now the cougar from the casino is Una Harris’ assistant? Not only that, but she’s standing as a witness. I know I promised not to ask questions, but things are just getting ridiculous. You can’t continue to keep me in the dark.”
Something shifts in Jay’s expression. “You overheard me and your dad?”
“Yes,” I reply, exasperated. “Not that any of it made much sense.”
He moves toward me then, backing me up into the wall. His hand goes to my cheek, stroking downward before settling on my neck. “I thought you were sleeping, darlin’.”
Tingles break out where he’s touching me, and I swallow. “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who can pretend.”
He looks me dead in the eye, his expression fierce. “I never pretend. Not with you. You want me to tell you the truth? Okay, here’s the truth. Jessie and I targeted Emma Feelan a long while ago. Jessie started up a thing with her, took a few embarrassing pictures, and recorded what happened the night she and her husband invited her to have a threesome. Jessie then suggested to Emma that if she didn’t stand as a witness in the trial, those pictures and that recording might fall into the wrong hands. That’s it.”
“That’s blackmail. And illegal. I believe where you come from they call it ‘fruit of the poisonous tree.’”
“We’re not using the blackmail as evidence. We’re using blackmail to get her to give genuine evidence. The proof of Una’s drug use is all legit. In fact, Mrs Feelan handed it over quite freely. The persuasion technique used is a necessary evil.”
I let out a joyless laugh. “‘Persuasion technique’? Okay, if that’s what you want to call it. So, just how many of these necessary evils have you committed, Jay?”
“A few.”
“Shit.”
He smiles. “I like it when you swear. Just so you know, big f**king turn-on.”
“Are you being glib right now? Seriously?” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.
He grabs my hand and rubs his thumb gently down the centre of my palm. “Don’t hate me yet. Just give me a couple more days. A couple more days, and I promise you, no more secrets, yeah?”
“How can you justify this? That poor woman is probably going to lose her job now. Do you even care?”
For a second, a strange expression comes over him. He ignores my question but simply replies, “Just wait, Matilda. Wait for the bigger picture.”
I stare at him for a long moment, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his eyes. I let out a long sigh. His thumb on my palm makes me tremble. This is the closest he’s gotten to me in a while, and I can feel every inch of his big, hard body pressing me into the wall. “Fine. I’ll wait. But I swear, this better be good.”
He rubs his hands up and down my arms now. “I promise it will be.” A quick breath escapes him, his eyes looking back and forth between mine. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
