Kaleidoscope (28 page)

“We’re in Courtroom B,” Zack said.

“Got it. Now go to sleep.”

And he did.

As I always did when I entered the courthouse, I spent a few seconds gazing at the mural of the God of Laws in the lobby. Over the years, I had been a parent-helper at many tours of the courthouse, and I knew that mural was a mosaic of 125,000
pieces of Florentine glass and that the female figures flanking the God of Laws were Truth and Justice. That morning, I gave Truth and Justice a few moments of extra attention. “Do your stuff, ladies,” I whispered, then went inside.

The courtroom was crowded. The trial was winding down, so the media and members of the public were hoping for a last burst of fireworks. I found a seat where I had a clear view of the jury and settled in.

Cronus was already sitting in the prisoner’s box, guarded by a provost who looked like she meant business. Zack and his associate, Chad Kichula, were already seated at the defence table, and Linda and her associates were at the table reserved for Crown counsel.

We rose as the clerk announced that Madam Justice Rebecca Cann was entering. Justice Cann lived across the creek from us and she owned a pair of Shih Tzus, so our paths crossed frequently. When we talked dogs, she had an easy smile and a bright enthusiasm. But today, the talk was not of Shih Tzus, and Justice Cann’s expression was stony.

The day was hot, and as he walked from the prisoner’s box to the witness stand, I saw that Cronus had dressed as any successful businessman might for an important meeting: a sleek white suit, a violet shirt, and a striped tie of violet and aubergine. As he raised his hand to be sworn in, I scanned the jury’s faces. They were as representative as any twelve people I’d meet at Safeway on a Saturday afternoon. The majority were Caucasian, but one had the warm copper skin of the Caribbean and two were East Asian. Most were middle aged, but one woman appeared to be very old. I knew that the boy in the front row had to be nineteen to be called for jury duty, but he didn’t appear to have been nineteen for long. The jurors were a disparate group, but as I watched them focus on Cronus, I knew that they were united in one significant way: they all heartily loathed the defendant. Zack was
usually able to establish a good relationship with jurors, but as he steered his wheelchair towards the witness box so he could question his client, I saw that the jury’s distaste for Cronus extended to my husband.

The realization that there was nothing Cronus could say or do that would sway that jury seemed to hit Zack and me at the same moment. We exchanged glances, then Zack shrugged and began trying to pump life into his stillborn case.

Cronus acquitted himself well. Despite the jury’s aversion to him, he attempted to establish eye contact. Without belittling their choice of sexual activity, he was clear in explaining what rough sex involved, and why he and Arden made the choices they had made. The defence needed to establish that the scratches and contusions found on both Arden and Cronus’s bodies could have been the result of their normal sexual practices, so Zack guided Cronus through a description of rough sex that was graphic but not salacious. Cronus did well, but I could tell from the set of Zack’s shoulders that he knew it wasn’t enough.

When the court broke for lunch, both Zack and Cronus appeared drawn and tense. I went over. “That was a disaster,” Cronus said.

“You only need to get through to one person,” I said.

“You were watching the jury,” Cronus said. “Did I get through to anybody?”

“Maybe that young man in the front row,” I said. “He seemed to really be listening to what you said.”

Zack gave me a quizzical look. “We’ll focus on him after lunch,” he said. “Ms. Shreve, would you mind very much having lunch on your own? There are some things Cronus and I should discuss.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I have some errands to run. I’ll be back at two.”

There was a linen sale at the Bay. Life at the lake was hard on towels, so I laid in a supply, had a chili dog and Orange Julius at the food court, and went back to the courthouse.

The snatches of conversation I overheard as I sat waiting for court to begin were not encouraging. I thought Pierre Trudeau had it right when he said that there was no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation. Whatever consenting adults did once the bedroom door closed seemed to me to be no one’s business but theirs. However, Cronus’s account of the mechanics of rough sex appeared to have opened a rich and nasty judgmental vein in my fellow citizens. People were licking their chops as they rushed to condemn him.

As the jury filed back in, I hoped that at least one of them had heard the words “Judge not, that ye be not judged.” It was impossible to tell what they were thinking, but when Cronus took the witness stand, they stared at him as if he were a specimen. His speaking voice was an oddly soothing monotone. As he described his relationship with Arden, the very old lady in the second row of the jury box drifted off to sleep.

Cronus’s explanation that he had no motive for killing Arden Raeburn was persuasive, but by the time he offered it, the faces of the jury were closed.

The right to a trial by a jury of one’s peers may be a cornerstone of our justice system, but seemingly, like the Queen in Alice in Wonderland, Cronus’s peers had decided on “Sentence first – verdict afterwards.”

Linda’s job was easy. She sat back and watched through narrowed eyes as Cronus told his tale. When the very old lady in the second row of the jury box awoke with a start, Linda smiled at her forgivingly.

It had been another bad day for the defence, but Zack would have three days to lick his wounds. It was a long weekend, so
we did what we had done a hundred times before. We picked up our daughter and headed for Lawyers’ Bay.

My favourite piece of furniture at the lake was an old oak partners’ table that Zack’s decorator had found at a small town auction. It was large and ornate with twenty-four chairs upholstered in cracked maroon leather. Whether there were twenty of us or two of us, we ate there. That Friday night, eighteen of us sat down to dinner. In poker and in family life, Zack liked a full house. As he took in the faces at our table, he looked as content as I’d ever seen him – as always, I was amazed at how he could compartmentalize troubling thoughts and fully focus on enjoying the good times when they happened.

Everyone seemed to be getting along. When Angus came from the airport with his new girlfriend, Zack and I both swallowed hard. Maisie Crawford was six feet tall, with a body that rippled with health and power, an intelligent face, shoulder-length, curly brown hair, and a split lip.

“Lacrosse,” she exclaimed with a grin that quickly turned to a grimace. “Shit,” she said. “I just did it last night. It’s still a little sensitive.”

“Would a beer help?” Angus said.

“Probably not,” she said amiably, “but it’s still a good idea.” She turned to me. “What can I do to help?”

“Thanks, but I think everything’s under control. Get Angus to introduce you to the gang.”

Zack and I watched as Maisie made the rounds. “Has Angus ever been without a spectacular girlfriend?” Zack said.

“Not to my knowledge,” I said. “But even in the rarefied circle of Angus’s girlfriends, Maisie’s a standout. What kind of law does she practise?”

“She’s a trial lawyer,” Zack said. “And Falconer Shreve is lucky to have her. Calgary’s still a ballsy town, and rumour has
it that when Maisie walks into a courtroom, shaking the floor with every step, the manly parts of opposing counsels shrivel.”

I laughed. “Tonight, I’m just grateful she’s taking the heat off Riel. Mieka was worried he’d feel a little out of his element.”

“I was looking forward to talking to him.” Zack looked around. “Where is he?”

“He and Peter went to check on the roast. Man’s work.”

“I should be there,” Zack said.

“No, you shouldn’t,” I said. “This is why we have kids. To leave you and me free to enjoy the party.”

“In that case,” Zack said, grinning, “allow me to get you some wine and lead you to a quiet corner.”

It was a good weekend. There was no shortage of powerboats at Lawyers’ Bay, so the big kids got in some serious waterskiing, and the little ones, including our granddaughters and Delia and Noah’s year-old grandson, Jacob, had some spectacular boat rides. Zack and I swam, took the dogs for walks, came home, and ate ice cream.

Saturday night, when the sun smouldered against the horizon, the members of the Winners’ Circle went down to sit by a campfire on the beach and the rest of us cracked open beers and caught the sun’s last rays.

Maisie looked towards the beach. “Kevin has mentioned the Winners’ Circle a couple of times. I thought it was a joke.”

“Not to them,” Noah Wainberg said. “And not to anybody who knew them then. I was in their year in law school – I was never in their league, but they were magic.” He handed Jacob to me. “But one picture is worth a thousand words. I’ll be back in a second.” He loped off towards their cottage and came back with a large framed black-and-white photo. “That was the way they looked that first summer.”

All the members of the Winners’ Circle were there. Delia,
Kevin, Chris, Blake, and, in the middle, Zack. They were up to their waists in water – Zack too. He’d wheeled out so far that the lower part of his chair was submerged. Squinting into the sun, their faces suffused with joy, they were incredibly appealing. Maisie studied the photo and pointed to Chris Altieri. “Who’s this? Isn’t everybody supposed to show up?”

“Chris Altieri committed suicide three years ago,” Noah said.

“What happened?”

Noah shrugged. “He couldn’t forgive himself for being human.”

After dinner, we regrouped, and I got some time to catch up with Angus.

Pantera had followed Zack down to the beach, but Willie, ever loyal, had stayed with me. Angus dropped to the grass and began rubbing Willie’s stomach. “I don’t want to dim your glow, Mum, but did you find out anything about that file Pat Hawley found?”

“No. You know, with everything that’s been going on, I forgot all about it. But I showed it to Debbie Haczkewicz just after you brought it to me. She was polite, but after she found out that the file had just turned up randomly, she didn’t seem particularly interested. It was pretty much the same story with Norine. She pointed out that the most recent clippings in that file were fifteen years old and that in fifteen years a lot of employees had come and gone at Falconer Shreve. The clippings could have belonged to any of them.”

“So the file is weird but not significant,” Angus said.

“That seems to be the consensus,” I said. I gazed towards the point. “No sign of Peter and Maisie,” I said with just a small question mark in my voice.

Angus shrugged. “Pete’s probably still figuring out when to make his move.”

“Really,” I said. “And you’re okay with that?”

“There’s nothing between Maisie and me. She didn’t have any plans for the long weekend, so I invited her to come to Lawyers’ Bay.”

“I’m glad you did,” I said. “We all like Maisie.”

Angus’s grin was rakish. “But Peter likes her most of all.”

On the night he died, Zack’s partner Chris Altieri taught Taylor a riddle that she never tired of.
What three words make you sad when you’re happy and happy when you’re sad?
The answer was,
Nothing lasts forever
. As we drove back to the city Monday afternoon I remembered that riddle. The past three days had been free of care, now it was time to return to the real world. Zack was preoccupied, and as we approached the city, I could see the tension gathering in his body.

I tried to distract him. “Did you notice that there was some interesting chemistry between Peter and Maisie?”

“I did,” Zack said. “Angus seemed cool with it.” He shrugged. “It’s a different world. When I was Angus’s age I would have knee-capped the other guy, brother or no brother.”

“Angus might have been into knee-capping mode if he and Maisie had been more than just buddies,” I said.

“It’s hard to imagine being ‘just buddies’ with a woman who has legs like Maisie’s,” Zack said. “But as long as everybody’s happy …”

“They appear to be,” I said. “Speaking of … how did your meeting on the beach with the Winners’ Circle go?”

“Truthfully, it was a little sad,” Zack said. “But it was also long overdue. We all agreed that everything is changing. Margot’s reaction was a slap in the face, but she was right. We have to acknowledge that the Winners’ Circle doesn’t mean anything to the new people. Kevin says that, for the sake of the firm, it’s time to stop worshipping those early years as if we were bugs stuck in amber.”

“Last night Maisie asked about the Winners’ Circle,” I said. “Noah brought out that black-and-white photo of the five of you in the lake that first summer. You really did have something special. You still do. You’re all at a good place in your life.”

“Well, except Chris,” Zack said.

“True. But you know, I’ve been thinking of that old riddle Chris told Taylor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the answer isn’t true. Some things do last forever.”

Zack reached over and squeezed my leg. “And thank God for that,” he said.

CHAPTER
15

Tuesday morning when I came back from my run with Leland, Zack was making a hungry-man’s breakfast for us both: scrambled eggs, sausages, and toast. I poured juice. “You must be planning to do some heavy lifting,” I said.

Zack’s lip curled. “I think it’s more a case of ‘the condemned man ate a hearty meal.’ ”

Mindful of my grandmother’s adage “Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you,” we hadn’t discussed the Cronus case at all over the long weekend. Nor had we brought up what we had recently learned about Riel’s past. Zack and I were in desperate need of a problem-free weekend and we had taken it. Now the weekend was over. “Is it that bad?” I asked.

“It’s bad,” Zack said. “But I’ll survive. Hey, the other day when you mentioned that juror number six in the front row might be open to persuasion, did you really pick up on something or were you just blowing smoke?”