Judgement Day, page 5
‘I’m going to need to tell Canberra,’ she said, ‘and we’ll need to notify all the staff here. Obviously there are major security issues to contend with. As for the court matters listed today, I don’t know how on earth we should deal with that . . .’
‘Our team will deal with the security issues and liaising with those higher up,’ Jillian said. ‘On all of the immediate information at least. What I need from you now is to arrange a space where we can meet with all of the judges at once, somewhere not on this floor. I’d also like a separate interview room. We’ll need the contact details for Judge Bailey’s family too.’
Angela produced her phone from a monogrammed Louis Vuitton handbag, tapped on it efficiently for the briefest moment and then handed it to Jillian. ‘Those are the contact details for her daughter,’ she said.
‘Thanks. Now, can I ask you to text all the judges and tell them we need to see them. They’ll need to park outside the building and present themselves at the staff entrance. We’ll arrange for them to be escorted in.’ As she spoke she was aware of McClintock in her peripheral vision. Bet he doesn’t like that I’ve taken control.
Angela nodded and typed intently on her phone. ‘There,’ she said after a few minutes, ‘every judge notified. I suggest we use one of the courtrooms for the meeting.’ She looked at Saul Meyers. ‘If that’s alright? Perhaps 2A, it’s the biggest.’
The chief judge nodded his agreement.
‘Good,’ Jillian said. ‘Why don’t I go with the chief judge,’ she said to McClintock, ‘and perhaps Angela can take you to deal with security. We’ll need all the CCTV, any logs of what time people came and left last night. Whatever there is. We’ll also need to liaise with the coroner –’
‘I called Sandy already,’ McClintock said breezily. ‘They’ll do it in the next forty-eight, top priority. I told them I’ll go.’ This was not a request, but Jillian bit her tongue.
Better to have him out of the way.
‘There’ll be a press conference later too,’ he added.
Of course, you wouldn’t want to deprive the public of your precious mug.
She suppressed a smile as she followed Angela out of the conference room.
The registry manager led them away from the public liftwell and into an alcove off an adjacent corridor where another pair of lifts waited. ‘These will take us down to the courtroom,’ Angela told Jillian as she pressed the button. ‘I’ll get you set up and then I can take you,’ she addressed McClintock, ‘to liaise with Tomir. He’s the head of security.’
At level two the lift opened onto a narrow, blue-carpeted corridor that ran the length of the building. To the left, windows looked out onto small balcony gardens and beyond those, into the office building on the other side of a lane. The rain, as vigorous as ever, fell silently. They followed Angela to the right, passing numbered doors with red lights above them, all turned off; presumably because no court was in session. At the end of the corridor, Angela opened the heavy door with some effort and Jillian found herself behind the judge’s bench in a large courtroom whose entire far wall looked out on the deluge on La Trobe Street. From the internal wall three large portraits of stern, judicial figures surveyed the space. Several long rows of slightly tatty seats faced the judge’s vacant chair which was perfectly positioned under a bronze seal of the Commonwealth.
‘I’ll just get some water,’ Angela said, and disappeared back down the corridor. She returned a moment later with two jugs, some plastic cups and a couple of boxes of tissues. Having confirmed that the chief judge required nothing else, she ushered McClintock out of the room.
Ignoring Jillian, Meyers sat down at the judge’s bench as though he were hearing a case, and began to write in a green book that had been placed there in wait. The old man grumbled to himself as he wrote, crossing something out and muttering its replacement.
As she waited for the other judges to arrive, Jillian wondered what Des was intending to do with McClintock. Surely now that she’d returned to work his acting contract would expire and he would need to be moved on. Or would Des keep him on, noting that this was likely to be a feeding frenzy of a case and that he was a well-regarded officer?
He’s part of the crew for this one now.
A pretty top-heavy crew.
There was a knock at the door and three people entered, all looking curious and slightly irritated.
‘If it please the court,’ a tall thin man said to Saul Meyers with a mock bow.
The chief judge gestured for him to sit down at the bar table. ‘Got some bad news unfortunately, Grant,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you more when everyone arrives.’
So this is Grant Phillips?
He sat down at the end of the table, his long legs sticking out to one side and his elongated fingers pressed down onto the shining wood.
A stocky woman with thick brown curls sat next to him. ‘I’ll be glad when they finally let us bring the cars in,’ she said. ‘I was doing laps of La Trobe Street for almost an hour and had to go and park at the Market.’
‘I think I was right behind you,’ said the third judge, a man whose face was lined and pockmarked. ‘Listening to Jon Faine fawn over the premier. Bloody ridiculous.’
‘Never listen to talkback radio on an empty stomach, Angus,’ Grant Phillips advised. ‘Especially if it’s Jon Faine.’ He turned his attention to Jillian. ‘What is it then? You’re police, I assume? Has a bomb been found somewhere in the building? Give me one wink for yes, two for no.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ said Angus. ‘They aren’t going to bring us into the building if there’s a bomb, are they?’
‘I thought Minister Cash might have read my treatise on the definition of a casual worker and decided she was better off without us,’ Phillips responded.
Three more judges entered, all over fifty, all white. ‘Well, this is all very interesting, Saul,’ said a severe-looking woman wearing a drenched trench coat and a put-upon grimace. ‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s going to tell us when everyone arrives, Ginny,’ Phillips said. ‘But just before you came in he did mention that Attorney-General Porter has confirmed they’re definitely getting rid of the court and that we’re all going to become justices.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she frowned.
There were twelve judges in total when Meyers cleared his throat. ‘That’s everyone, I think.’
‘What about Kaye?’ Grant Phillips interrupted. ‘She’s got her judgement on, she’s definitely in today, unless she’s too hungover from last night’s celebrations.’
‘Well, as it happens, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.’ Meyers stood up awkwardly and came down from behind the bench, as though realising that delivering the news from the pulpit might not be appropriate. He leaned on the back of a vacant chair on the opposite side of the bar table and drew a ragged breath.
‘Colleagues, I have some distressing news. Judge Kaye Bailey was found dead this morning – in chambers. My understanding is that it is being treated as a suspicious death.’
Jillian watched the faces of the judges as Meyers passed on the limited information he had been provided with. All of them appeared shocked, although Jillian thought she saw a hint of satisfaction on Virginia Maiden’s austere face. Grant Phillips looked as though he might faint.
‘This is one of the detectives investigating Kaye’s . . .’ the chief judge struggled with the word, ‘murder. She’s going to talk to each of you this morning. We’ll also need to talk about the logistics for the next few days but I don’t have anything else to tell you at this point. We’ll obviously be dealing with the security issues. Angela will be in touch.’
As Meyers responded inadequately to his judges’ questions, Jillian compiled a mental list of the order in which she wanted to question the men and women present.
Grant Phillips.
Virginia Maiden.
Bearded man.
Curly-haired woman.
Angela knocked and entered and Meyers sat down again, obviously pleased to be relieved of his duty to manage the crisis. McClintock stood in the doorway and Jillian went to meet him outside the room. ‘How’d you get on?’ she asked.
‘Tomir is still on his way in, he was apparently meant to start late today, medical appointment. They’re going to do the presser at five-thirty. Des is dealing with the A-G department at the moment, AFP too, in case it turns out to be terrorism.’
‘Alright, great. I’m going to talk to the judges one by one. Could you hang in here, just make sure no one is getting too chatty before they speak to me? I think they’ll mainly be hassling Angela, in all honesty.’
‘Yup.’ He ran a hand through his hair.
Already thinking about his press conference.
Angela had arranged a small room directly opposite the courtroom for the interviews. It contained three chairs, a table, a poster promoting family violence services and the strong smell of disinfectant.
‘I’m sorry,’ Grant Phillips said when he and Jillian were ensconced within. ‘I feel like I’ve been hit over the head or something. I’m still in a state of complete shock. I mean, I saw her last night, she was just so well, glowing as usual. I just can’t imagine how this has happened.’
Jillian observed him for a moment. The judge had a thin face, greying brown hair, and grey-brown eyes that wrinkled slightly as he talked. It gave him a wry, friendly appearance despite his obvious shock.
‘I understand you and Judge Bailey were friends?’ she said.
‘We are. Were,’ he corrected himself. ‘I’ve known her since she was a solicitor, she used to brief me back when I’d just started in family. Good god!’ He looked stricken. ‘Has someone told Ama? And Bruce? Jesus, and poor old Screwy.’
‘We’re making all those arrangements. Bruce, that’s her ex-husband?’
‘That’s right, he’s based in Singapore, but over here a fair bit, they were still close. Screwy – that’s Michael O’Neil, her partner – well, on and off.’ He put a hand to his anguished brow. ‘Sorry, I’m just, just staggered. She’d just been appointed CJ, has anyone told you that? Just yesterday they told everyone, at the party.’
‘We did hear about that, yes.’
‘I mean, not a huge surprise in a lot of ways, I’d tipped it, teased her about it yesterday morning, actually . . .’
‘We’ve been told there was some tension at the party, did you witness that?’
The judge looked surprised. ‘Word got out fast then. I believe there was some tension between Kaye and Saul. I don’t know what over, but she looked a bit upset when she left to go back to chambers. I didn’t get to ask her about it . . .’
Jillian had him take her through the evening before and unlike his boss, he willingly obliged. ‘Let me see, I visited Saul in his chambers, we had a drink around five then walked to the conference room together. I popped out shortly after six; my wife had arrived and I went down to fetch her, we came back up together. I’m not sure exactly what time Kaye got there but it wasn’t long after Harriet, my wife. Christianne and Matthew were with her. Hari and I chatted to Kaye for a while, she was in great spirits, she was finishing off this nasty judgement that had been dragging on, causing her a lot of grief. She said she was getting the thing done tonight even if it –’ He stopped. ‘Well, she said even if it killed her.’
He poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table. ‘Anyway, she was in and out of the party as best as I recall. Harriet gets anxiety so we sort of stuck to ourselves for the most part. Had a chat with Saul fairly late in the piece, which I suspect he wouldn’t remember – he was a few bottles deep at that stage. Then we popped in and said goodnight to Kaye on the way out. I suppose that was around ten-thirty or so. She seemed fine.’
‘Who else was still at the party when you left?’
‘Saul and Ginny – both of them the worse for wear, I’ll say that. Saul’s face was practically falling off his body. And two blokes from their bar days that they kick around with, Greg Eaves and Graham Norman, also pretty shabby.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Don’t think so. Saul was a bit disappointed it wasn’t a bigger celebration.’
‘I understand that Judge Bailey’s promotion to chief judge was somewhat controversial.’
‘Well yes, sure. But I mean, these things are always controversial, there’s always someone who feels hard done by, thinks it was their turn. Kaye was never like that, probably why she was appointed. In all honesty, aside from the obvious I should think most people were happy for her.’ He looked down at his hands and sniffed.
‘The obvious being?’ Jillian probed gently.
‘Ginny, Saul, some of the older lot. Ginny’s always fancied herself CJ-in-waiting – delusional. They weren’t going to appoint her at sixty-nine when she’d have to leave within the year. And Saul’s never forgiven Kaye for an appeal she ran against one of his terrible judgements when she was at the bar. They’re old school, these folk. That’s another reason they weren’t fans of Kaye. They were brought in to do industrial relations, bankruptcy, that type of thing, back when family law was just meant to be a tiny part of the workload. Neither of them is particularly well regarded in family law whereas Kaye is. Was. And that’s despite some pretty adventurous jurisprudence. I suppose they’re less tolerant of human frailty, which is the nub of family law really, when you get down to it. Two people groping around for each other’s weaknesses.’ He looked at her. ‘You married?’
‘I am.’
‘Well, may you never have to set foot in this place for legal reasons. You seem like a sensible person. Is your husband sensible?’
‘He likes to think so.’ She smiled at the thought of Aaron, likely still curled in a ball and trying to sleep off the fatigue of the full-time parent.
‘Then you’ll probably be alright.’ Grant Phillips gave a smile of his own, a sad one.
Jillian found this exchange somehow reassuring, as though it were a guarantee that she and Aaron would always be content.
‘What can you tell us about Michael O’Neil – Screwy?’ she asked.
‘Oh, Michael’s harmless,’ Grant said. ‘I mean, on an interpersonal level. He’s awful in court, just brutal. I used to be opposed to him, back when we both did criminal law. He was defence, I was a prosecutor. Whenever I knew he was defending I’d tell the police we had to settle or we were screwed. I think I might have invented the nickname, actually. Everyone was devastated when he started taking family law briefs.’
‘How long had he been seeing Kaye for?’
‘I’m not really sure, maybe a year or so. It was very low-key. I’d been expecting to see him last night but he didn’t show. Not that there’s much love lost between him and Saul, but I ran into him outside court earlier in the day and he said he’d be there.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’
‘Well, mainly at chambers, in Owen Dixon. They say he goes in at five am and stays until midnight. But I believe he’s got a place in Fitzroy.’
‘We’d like to talk to your wife too, if you could give us her details.’
Grant Phillips looked fleetingly concerned. ‘Of course, but Harriet is in very delicate mental health. Would it be alright if I broke the news to her first? I’m a bit worried about how she’s going to take this.’
Jillian agreed and the judge got to his feet. ‘I’ll do it right now, before she hears about it from anyone else. I’ll let her know you’ll be over – when?’
‘We’ll be in contact within the next twenty-four hours.’
‘Alright.’ He smiled sadly again. ‘Let me know what else I can do.’
Jillian returned to the courtroom. McClintock was nowhere to be seen, and the various judges were talking with panicked excitement between themselves while Angela was simultaneously on the phone and typing on a computer behind what Jillian assumed was the associates’ desk.
‘He’s just popped out to take a call,’ Angela said on seeing Jillian.
‘Okay, I’ll talk to Judge Maiden next.’
‘Judge Maiden indicated that she needed to return home for an emergency,’ Angela said, sounding slightly embarrassed. ‘Said it couldn’t possibly wait.’
Chapter 4
Three hours later Jillian emerged into the early afternoon. The sky was still grey but the rain had stopped and the air was cool, the last hints of early autumnal warmth washed away. The crowds she’d glimpsed waiting to enter the building as she moved between courtroom and interview room had now dispersed, and she could see uniformed officers stationed at the public and private entrances to direct people away. She yawned luxuriously, the type of yawn that would earn her a mock rebuke at home, because it was she who slept soundly all night while Aaron dealt with the baby. ‘Don’t tell me you’re tired,’ he would say, and even though he was joking she would feel ashamed.
This yawn was not from tiredness, though, but from the emotion of the morning. She felt invigorated to be back at work but she had forgotten what it was like to be thrown into the midst of other people’s grief, and to be responsible for offering them some hope of resolution.
‘Coffee?’ McClintock asked from behind her. ‘Regroup? My shout.’ They had not spoken since he’d allowed Virginia Maiden to leave the building while he was on his phone call and he clearly sensed that she was irritated.
‘Yes, good plan.’
‘Bit cheeky of Maiden to bugger off like that when she was told to wait,’ he said as they walked along William Street in search of ‘decent coffee’, as McClintock put it. ‘I did make it clear no one was to leave.’
You should have been there watching her.
‘But it’s not her, so she won’t be galivanting off into the sunset. Still, pretty rude.’
‘What makes you think it isn’t her? Every other judge I spoke to indicated there was no love lost between her and Kaye Bailey.’
‘Our team will deal with the security issues and liaising with those higher up,’ Jillian said. ‘On all of the immediate information at least. What I need from you now is to arrange a space where we can meet with all of the judges at once, somewhere not on this floor. I’d also like a separate interview room. We’ll need the contact details for Judge Bailey’s family too.’
Angela produced her phone from a monogrammed Louis Vuitton handbag, tapped on it efficiently for the briefest moment and then handed it to Jillian. ‘Those are the contact details for her daughter,’ she said.
‘Thanks. Now, can I ask you to text all the judges and tell them we need to see them. They’ll need to park outside the building and present themselves at the staff entrance. We’ll arrange for them to be escorted in.’ As she spoke she was aware of McClintock in her peripheral vision. Bet he doesn’t like that I’ve taken control.
Angela nodded and typed intently on her phone. ‘There,’ she said after a few minutes, ‘every judge notified. I suggest we use one of the courtrooms for the meeting.’ She looked at Saul Meyers. ‘If that’s alright? Perhaps 2A, it’s the biggest.’
The chief judge nodded his agreement.
‘Good,’ Jillian said. ‘Why don’t I go with the chief judge,’ she said to McClintock, ‘and perhaps Angela can take you to deal with security. We’ll need all the CCTV, any logs of what time people came and left last night. Whatever there is. We’ll also need to liaise with the coroner –’
‘I called Sandy already,’ McClintock said breezily. ‘They’ll do it in the next forty-eight, top priority. I told them I’ll go.’ This was not a request, but Jillian bit her tongue.
Better to have him out of the way.
‘There’ll be a press conference later too,’ he added.
Of course, you wouldn’t want to deprive the public of your precious mug.
She suppressed a smile as she followed Angela out of the conference room.
The registry manager led them away from the public liftwell and into an alcove off an adjacent corridor where another pair of lifts waited. ‘These will take us down to the courtroom,’ Angela told Jillian as she pressed the button. ‘I’ll get you set up and then I can take you,’ she addressed McClintock, ‘to liaise with Tomir. He’s the head of security.’
At level two the lift opened onto a narrow, blue-carpeted corridor that ran the length of the building. To the left, windows looked out onto small balcony gardens and beyond those, into the office building on the other side of a lane. The rain, as vigorous as ever, fell silently. They followed Angela to the right, passing numbered doors with red lights above them, all turned off; presumably because no court was in session. At the end of the corridor, Angela opened the heavy door with some effort and Jillian found herself behind the judge’s bench in a large courtroom whose entire far wall looked out on the deluge on La Trobe Street. From the internal wall three large portraits of stern, judicial figures surveyed the space. Several long rows of slightly tatty seats faced the judge’s vacant chair which was perfectly positioned under a bronze seal of the Commonwealth.
‘I’ll just get some water,’ Angela said, and disappeared back down the corridor. She returned a moment later with two jugs, some plastic cups and a couple of boxes of tissues. Having confirmed that the chief judge required nothing else, she ushered McClintock out of the room.
Ignoring Jillian, Meyers sat down at the judge’s bench as though he were hearing a case, and began to write in a green book that had been placed there in wait. The old man grumbled to himself as he wrote, crossing something out and muttering its replacement.
As she waited for the other judges to arrive, Jillian wondered what Des was intending to do with McClintock. Surely now that she’d returned to work his acting contract would expire and he would need to be moved on. Or would Des keep him on, noting that this was likely to be a feeding frenzy of a case and that he was a well-regarded officer?
He’s part of the crew for this one now.
A pretty top-heavy crew.
There was a knock at the door and three people entered, all looking curious and slightly irritated.
‘If it please the court,’ a tall thin man said to Saul Meyers with a mock bow.
The chief judge gestured for him to sit down at the bar table. ‘Got some bad news unfortunately, Grant,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you more when everyone arrives.’
So this is Grant Phillips?
He sat down at the end of the table, his long legs sticking out to one side and his elongated fingers pressed down onto the shining wood.
A stocky woman with thick brown curls sat next to him. ‘I’ll be glad when they finally let us bring the cars in,’ she said. ‘I was doing laps of La Trobe Street for almost an hour and had to go and park at the Market.’
‘I think I was right behind you,’ said the third judge, a man whose face was lined and pockmarked. ‘Listening to Jon Faine fawn over the premier. Bloody ridiculous.’
‘Never listen to talkback radio on an empty stomach, Angus,’ Grant Phillips advised. ‘Especially if it’s Jon Faine.’ He turned his attention to Jillian. ‘What is it then? You’re police, I assume? Has a bomb been found somewhere in the building? Give me one wink for yes, two for no.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ said Angus. ‘They aren’t going to bring us into the building if there’s a bomb, are they?’
‘I thought Minister Cash might have read my treatise on the definition of a casual worker and decided she was better off without us,’ Phillips responded.
Three more judges entered, all over fifty, all white. ‘Well, this is all very interesting, Saul,’ said a severe-looking woman wearing a drenched trench coat and a put-upon grimace. ‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s going to tell us when everyone arrives, Ginny,’ Phillips said. ‘But just before you came in he did mention that Attorney-General Porter has confirmed they’re definitely getting rid of the court and that we’re all going to become justices.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she frowned.
There were twelve judges in total when Meyers cleared his throat. ‘That’s everyone, I think.’
‘What about Kaye?’ Grant Phillips interrupted. ‘She’s got her judgement on, she’s definitely in today, unless she’s too hungover from last night’s celebrations.’
‘Well, as it happens, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.’ Meyers stood up awkwardly and came down from behind the bench, as though realising that delivering the news from the pulpit might not be appropriate. He leaned on the back of a vacant chair on the opposite side of the bar table and drew a ragged breath.
‘Colleagues, I have some distressing news. Judge Kaye Bailey was found dead this morning – in chambers. My understanding is that it is being treated as a suspicious death.’
Jillian watched the faces of the judges as Meyers passed on the limited information he had been provided with. All of them appeared shocked, although Jillian thought she saw a hint of satisfaction on Virginia Maiden’s austere face. Grant Phillips looked as though he might faint.
‘This is one of the detectives investigating Kaye’s . . .’ the chief judge struggled with the word, ‘murder. She’s going to talk to each of you this morning. We’ll also need to talk about the logistics for the next few days but I don’t have anything else to tell you at this point. We’ll obviously be dealing with the security issues. Angela will be in touch.’
As Meyers responded inadequately to his judges’ questions, Jillian compiled a mental list of the order in which she wanted to question the men and women present.
Grant Phillips.
Virginia Maiden.
Bearded man.
Curly-haired woman.
Angela knocked and entered and Meyers sat down again, obviously pleased to be relieved of his duty to manage the crisis. McClintock stood in the doorway and Jillian went to meet him outside the room. ‘How’d you get on?’ she asked.
‘Tomir is still on his way in, he was apparently meant to start late today, medical appointment. They’re going to do the presser at five-thirty. Des is dealing with the A-G department at the moment, AFP too, in case it turns out to be terrorism.’
‘Alright, great. I’m going to talk to the judges one by one. Could you hang in here, just make sure no one is getting too chatty before they speak to me? I think they’ll mainly be hassling Angela, in all honesty.’
‘Yup.’ He ran a hand through his hair.
Already thinking about his press conference.
Angela had arranged a small room directly opposite the courtroom for the interviews. It contained three chairs, a table, a poster promoting family violence services and the strong smell of disinfectant.
‘I’m sorry,’ Grant Phillips said when he and Jillian were ensconced within. ‘I feel like I’ve been hit over the head or something. I’m still in a state of complete shock. I mean, I saw her last night, she was just so well, glowing as usual. I just can’t imagine how this has happened.’
Jillian observed him for a moment. The judge had a thin face, greying brown hair, and grey-brown eyes that wrinkled slightly as he talked. It gave him a wry, friendly appearance despite his obvious shock.
‘I understand you and Judge Bailey were friends?’ she said.
‘We are. Were,’ he corrected himself. ‘I’ve known her since she was a solicitor, she used to brief me back when I’d just started in family. Good god!’ He looked stricken. ‘Has someone told Ama? And Bruce? Jesus, and poor old Screwy.’
‘We’re making all those arrangements. Bruce, that’s her ex-husband?’
‘That’s right, he’s based in Singapore, but over here a fair bit, they were still close. Screwy – that’s Michael O’Neil, her partner – well, on and off.’ He put a hand to his anguished brow. ‘Sorry, I’m just, just staggered. She’d just been appointed CJ, has anyone told you that? Just yesterday they told everyone, at the party.’
‘We did hear about that, yes.’
‘I mean, not a huge surprise in a lot of ways, I’d tipped it, teased her about it yesterday morning, actually . . .’
‘We’ve been told there was some tension at the party, did you witness that?’
The judge looked surprised. ‘Word got out fast then. I believe there was some tension between Kaye and Saul. I don’t know what over, but she looked a bit upset when she left to go back to chambers. I didn’t get to ask her about it . . .’
Jillian had him take her through the evening before and unlike his boss, he willingly obliged. ‘Let me see, I visited Saul in his chambers, we had a drink around five then walked to the conference room together. I popped out shortly after six; my wife had arrived and I went down to fetch her, we came back up together. I’m not sure exactly what time Kaye got there but it wasn’t long after Harriet, my wife. Christianne and Matthew were with her. Hari and I chatted to Kaye for a while, she was in great spirits, she was finishing off this nasty judgement that had been dragging on, causing her a lot of grief. She said she was getting the thing done tonight even if it –’ He stopped. ‘Well, she said even if it killed her.’
He poured himself a glass of water from the jug on the table. ‘Anyway, she was in and out of the party as best as I recall. Harriet gets anxiety so we sort of stuck to ourselves for the most part. Had a chat with Saul fairly late in the piece, which I suspect he wouldn’t remember – he was a few bottles deep at that stage. Then we popped in and said goodnight to Kaye on the way out. I suppose that was around ten-thirty or so. She seemed fine.’
‘Who else was still at the party when you left?’
‘Saul and Ginny – both of them the worse for wear, I’ll say that. Saul’s face was practically falling off his body. And two blokes from their bar days that they kick around with, Greg Eaves and Graham Norman, also pretty shabby.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Don’t think so. Saul was a bit disappointed it wasn’t a bigger celebration.’
‘I understand that Judge Bailey’s promotion to chief judge was somewhat controversial.’
‘Well yes, sure. But I mean, these things are always controversial, there’s always someone who feels hard done by, thinks it was their turn. Kaye was never like that, probably why she was appointed. In all honesty, aside from the obvious I should think most people were happy for her.’ He looked down at his hands and sniffed.
‘The obvious being?’ Jillian probed gently.
‘Ginny, Saul, some of the older lot. Ginny’s always fancied herself CJ-in-waiting – delusional. They weren’t going to appoint her at sixty-nine when she’d have to leave within the year. And Saul’s never forgiven Kaye for an appeal she ran against one of his terrible judgements when she was at the bar. They’re old school, these folk. That’s another reason they weren’t fans of Kaye. They were brought in to do industrial relations, bankruptcy, that type of thing, back when family law was just meant to be a tiny part of the workload. Neither of them is particularly well regarded in family law whereas Kaye is. Was. And that’s despite some pretty adventurous jurisprudence. I suppose they’re less tolerant of human frailty, which is the nub of family law really, when you get down to it. Two people groping around for each other’s weaknesses.’ He looked at her. ‘You married?’
‘I am.’
‘Well, may you never have to set foot in this place for legal reasons. You seem like a sensible person. Is your husband sensible?’
‘He likes to think so.’ She smiled at the thought of Aaron, likely still curled in a ball and trying to sleep off the fatigue of the full-time parent.
‘Then you’ll probably be alright.’ Grant Phillips gave a smile of his own, a sad one.
Jillian found this exchange somehow reassuring, as though it were a guarantee that she and Aaron would always be content.
‘What can you tell us about Michael O’Neil – Screwy?’ she asked.
‘Oh, Michael’s harmless,’ Grant said. ‘I mean, on an interpersonal level. He’s awful in court, just brutal. I used to be opposed to him, back when we both did criminal law. He was defence, I was a prosecutor. Whenever I knew he was defending I’d tell the police we had to settle or we were screwed. I think I might have invented the nickname, actually. Everyone was devastated when he started taking family law briefs.’
‘How long had he been seeing Kaye for?’
‘I’m not really sure, maybe a year or so. It was very low-key. I’d been expecting to see him last night but he didn’t show. Not that there’s much love lost between him and Saul, but I ran into him outside court earlier in the day and he said he’d be there.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’
‘Well, mainly at chambers, in Owen Dixon. They say he goes in at five am and stays until midnight. But I believe he’s got a place in Fitzroy.’
‘We’d like to talk to your wife too, if you could give us her details.’
Grant Phillips looked fleetingly concerned. ‘Of course, but Harriet is in very delicate mental health. Would it be alright if I broke the news to her first? I’m a bit worried about how she’s going to take this.’
Jillian agreed and the judge got to his feet. ‘I’ll do it right now, before she hears about it from anyone else. I’ll let her know you’ll be over – when?’
‘We’ll be in contact within the next twenty-four hours.’
‘Alright.’ He smiled sadly again. ‘Let me know what else I can do.’
Jillian returned to the courtroom. McClintock was nowhere to be seen, and the various judges were talking with panicked excitement between themselves while Angela was simultaneously on the phone and typing on a computer behind what Jillian assumed was the associates’ desk.
‘He’s just popped out to take a call,’ Angela said on seeing Jillian.
‘Okay, I’ll talk to Judge Maiden next.’
‘Judge Maiden indicated that she needed to return home for an emergency,’ Angela said, sounding slightly embarrassed. ‘Said it couldn’t possibly wait.’
Chapter 4
Three hours later Jillian emerged into the early afternoon. The sky was still grey but the rain had stopped and the air was cool, the last hints of early autumnal warmth washed away. The crowds she’d glimpsed waiting to enter the building as she moved between courtroom and interview room had now dispersed, and she could see uniformed officers stationed at the public and private entrances to direct people away. She yawned luxuriously, the type of yawn that would earn her a mock rebuke at home, because it was she who slept soundly all night while Aaron dealt with the baby. ‘Don’t tell me you’re tired,’ he would say, and even though he was joking she would feel ashamed.
This yawn was not from tiredness, though, but from the emotion of the morning. She felt invigorated to be back at work but she had forgotten what it was like to be thrown into the midst of other people’s grief, and to be responsible for offering them some hope of resolution.
‘Coffee?’ McClintock asked from behind her. ‘Regroup? My shout.’ They had not spoken since he’d allowed Virginia Maiden to leave the building while he was on his phone call and he clearly sensed that she was irritated.
‘Yes, good plan.’
‘Bit cheeky of Maiden to bugger off like that when she was told to wait,’ he said as they walked along William Street in search of ‘decent coffee’, as McClintock put it. ‘I did make it clear no one was to leave.’
You should have been there watching her.
‘But it’s not her, so she won’t be galivanting off into the sunset. Still, pretty rude.’
‘What makes you think it isn’t her? Every other judge I spoke to indicated there was no love lost between her and Kaye Bailey.’
