Jon studied me, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to read my mind.
Ha! Got him. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’ I made my way back to my desk.
‘Do you mean your biggest regret or your greatest regret?’ asked Jon.
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Your biggest regret would be defending Iain Seagrove and him being found not guilty when he was charged with murdering his wife. He was as guilty as sin. Two years later, he murdered his girlfriend and you’ve always felt … responsible. Your greatest regret, however, is telling Tobey Durbridge that you hoped his child with Misty Jackman would die.’
My mouth fell open and stayed that way. No one knew that. No one. Only me and Tobey, and I sure as hell hadn’t told anyone. I was too ashamed. Who had Tobey told that this man should get to hear about it? I stared at Jon. Who was he?
‘Do I have the job then?’ he asked.
‘I should have you thrown out on your ear.’
‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But do I have the job?’
That was my introduction to Jon Duba, my covert investigator, my friend and the greatest pain in my ass. To this day, he hasn’t told me how he knew so much about me.
‘You enjoy sneaking into my office, don’t you?’ I said, eyebrows raised. ‘What d’you do? Wait for Stacy to pop to the ladies and then make your move?’
‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Then, by all means, keep it to yourself.’ I sipped my coffee. ‘So are you here for a specific reason or just to be a general nuisance?’
‘Charming!’ said Jon, unfazed. ‘I come bearing news.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Solomon has put your name forward to become a circuit judge in the current round of selections and it looks like it might just happen.’
I stared, astounded – which was my default mode when talking to Jon. And, what’s more, he loved it! ‘How on earth do you know that?’
Jon tapped the side of his nose. ‘I have my sources.’
Which is what he always said when I asked him how he knew stuff.
Solomon was my head of chambers as well as my friend, but he’d never said anything about putting my name forward for such a prestigious position.
My eyes narrowed. ‘Hang on. Don’t I have to be a district judge before I can be considered for the role of circuit judge? I’m just a barrister.’
‘They brought in a fast-track scheme for exceptional barristers with a number of years’ court experience.’
‘I know that, Jon, but only one barrister has ever been fast-tracked that way, to my knowledge.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, you’re more than qualified. And you win far more cases than you lose. There’s another reason – but you won’t like it.’
Uh-oh! ‘I’m listening.’
‘All the current circuit judges are Crosses,’ said Jon. ‘If you’re appointed, the fact that you’re half Nought won’t hurt.’
‘I see.’
Already I was bristling. When was this BS going to stop? Years ago, I’d watched others on my course with lower grades get offered pupillage way before I found a law chambers prepared to take me on. That was part of the reason why I was so grateful to Sol for giving me a chance. And I’d worked my arse off, determined to make sure that he never regretted it. On one of my first independent cases as a green barrister, a Nought court official, Martin Morris, refused to let me enter a courtroom through the officials’ entrance until he’d fully checked my credentials. Other Cross barristers, however, were allowed to swan past me, completely unchecked. It’d been intensely humiliating. To this day, Mr Morris and I kept it strictly professional; no pleasantries were ever exchanged.
‘I have issues with being a political appointee. If they’re looking for a diversity poster girl, they can fuck off and look elsewhere,’ I said, rearing up on my high horse. ‘I’ve had it with people looking down on me because one of my parents was a Nought.’
‘Cool your jets. I said it’s another reason, not the only reason,’ Jon pointed out. ‘You’re not the problem; you’re the solution. Besides, you’re one of the best barristers in the country and you know it, so don’t get sniffy.’
‘Hmmm.’ I was only slightly mollified.
Jon pursed his lips, raising his chin as if issuing a challenge. ‘I should congratulate you on your forthcoming promotion, but I’m not going to.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘If you become a circuit judge, you won’t need my services any more. You’ll be presiding over cases, not investigating the facts of them.’ Jon sighed. ‘It’s taken me two years to train you up and get you used to my way of working. Now that’s all out the window. This displeases me.’
‘Whoa! Can we roll back a bit? Are you sure about this?’
Jon drew himself up, his shoulders back. ‘My sources and resources are impeccable. I don’t open my mouth unless I’m sure. You ought to know that by now,’ he said haughtily. ‘As long as you don’t drop a heavy object on the Chief Law Chancellor’s foot, it’s a done deal.’
‘Why hasn’t Sol told me this himself?’ I asked.
‘You’d have to take that up with your boss, not me.’ Jon shrugged. ‘But, if you want my advice, wait for him to bring up the subject and then act surprised and grateful. He won’t like it if he knows we’re ahead of him on this.’
Which was sage advice. Solomon already thought Jon was dodgy AF.
Circuit judge … It was what I’d hoped for, but I didn’t think it’d happen for at least another eight to nine years at the earliest. To become a circuit judge at my age would be the stuff of dreams.
‘Meanwhile, back down to earth, your current case has a major problem,’ said Jon.
‘How so?’
‘Beatrice Fairley, the innocent client whom you’re so vigorously defending? The woman accused of killing her sister? She’s as guilty as sin. What’s more, I can prove it.’
Son of a bitch!
‘How? Beatrice has an alibi. She was captured on CCTV filling her car with petrol.’
‘And she paid at the pump, didn’t she?’
‘So? Are you saying the footage was doctored?’ I frowned.
‘Of course not. The woman driving Beatrice’s car and wearing Beatrice’s clothes wasn’t Beatrice. It was Lily, her seventeen-year-old daughter, who passed her test three months before the murder. The CCTV footage shows a blonde woman wearing a cap and Beatrice’s distinctive T-shirt and ripped jeans. Beatrice’s daughter kept her head down the entire time she was at the petrol station so the camera couldn’t get a close-up of her face, but she forgot to mask her hands.’
‘What about them?’
‘Even though Beatrice is a widow, she still wears her wedding ring. Her daughter Lily’s fingers were all bare. Plus Beatrice is left-handed and Lily is right-handed. You can clearly see her using her right hand to fill the car’s tank and to pay at the pump.’
‘Hardly conclusive evidence,’ I pointed out.
‘But enough for the prosecution to establish some doubt,’ said Jon. ‘And, as the prosecutor is your ex, you know he’s going to do everything he can to win, especially as it’s against you.’