Children in the Morning (28 page)

“I would imagine. You don’t just have a child — a ward of the state — wander off the reserve, and nobody wonders where he is.”

“We all wonder where he is. The department is handling the situation.”

“When did he disappear?”

Another hesitation, then: “Last fall.”

I looked Delaney in the eye. “Do you think something happened to Corbett, Beau?”

“What, for instance, Monty?”

“You tell me. Any ideas?”

“I do not know. Period.”

“You’d better come up with some lines that will sound better than that on the stand, Beau. And you’d better look a little more compas-sionate about this young boy when court resumes next week, and the 174

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Crown hammers you on this very point.” I waited a few beats, then asked: “Is there some connection between him and the Hells Angels?”

Beau gave a snort of laughter. “Only in his dreams.”

“So this thing about the bikers . . .”

“Forget it, Monty. I don’t know what that was about. I wasn’t there.”

“All right. I’ll leave you. You’ve got some thinking to do. You know where to find me.”

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Chapter 13

(Monty)

I was having an early dinner with the family at the house on Dresden Row that evening. Little Dominic watched us, contentedly, from his high chair. Maura and I worked in the kitchen together, quite com-panionably, preparing the meal. I decided not to destroy that mood by asking questions, as curious and vexed as I was, about Dominic and the custody dispute with the boy’s father.

Maura issued her customary instructions: “Why don’t you go up and do some homework before supper, Normie.”

“In a minute! I want to watch
Live at Five
. They were out talking to people on Spring Garden Road with tv cameras. It was ATV, and me and Kim walked by, and we may get to see ourselves! I’m going to tape it.”

“What were you and Kim doing on Spring Garden Road?”

“We decided to walk that way instead of Morris Street.”

“You know you’re supposed to come straight home.”

“I know.” She pounded down to the den. “Here it is!” I heard the program come on, and it was obvious the homework would have to 176

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wait. “Aw! They’ve got something else on first! Oh, it’s Mr. Delaney again. There’s a picture of him.”

My ears perked up at that.

“There has been a new development in the murder case of renowned criminal lawyer Beau Delaney. A surprise witness has come forward in Mr. Delaney’s defence. Todd Webber has the story. Todd?”

I didn’t want any more surprises. I don’t like surprises in the middle of a trial, whether they’re billed as good news for the defence or not. That goes double for surprise witnesses. I made a beeline for the downstairs den, with Maura right behind me.

“Steve, I’m at the law courts where the young witness appeared, too late, as it turns out, for today’s proceedings, but the following days of the trial should be interesting. The witness, fifteen-year-old Corbett Reeves, says Mr. Delaney did not commit murder, and he, Corbett, can prove it. In other words, Steve, it sounds as if Corbett is an alibi witness for the accused lawyer.”

What?
The face of a young man filled the screen. He had very light blond hair buzzed short on his skull. He spoke into the camera in a strange, high-pitched voice: “Me and Beau have a history together. And I know there’s no way he did any killing. I can tell the judge the truth.”

“Why have you just come forward now, Corbett?”

“I was somewhere else, and couldn’t be here till now. I’m just glad the trial’s still going on and I’m not too late.”

The reporter said: “Corbett Reeves lived with the Delaney family for some time, Steve, as a foster child. Mr. Delaney was not available for reaction, and we were unable to reach his lawyer, Monty Collins.

Crown prosecutor Gail Kirk said she could not comment on today’s surprise turn of events. Steve?”

“Thanks, Todd. Now to Pictou County where our coverage of the Westray mine disaster continues. The families of the twenty-six miners . . .”

At that point Maura shooed Normie up into the kitchen with the assurance that she would call upstairs if Normie and Kim appeared on the screen. Given all the nightmares she’d been having, the last thing the child needed was to hear any more about the twenty-six dads, husbands, sons, and brothers who lost their lives when the Westray mine blew up the Saturday before. Maura, the daughter of a 177

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coal miner, was not in the best of shape watching the story; I put my arms around her and held her close. Neither of us spoke.

We heard Normie’s footsteps on the stairs again. She was wide-eyed at the sight of her parents in an embrace, but she made no comment.

Maura stepped back, and turned her attention to the lead item on the news. “What’s the story on this guy? You didn’t know about him?”

“His name came up in court today. Beau told me it was a foster placement that didn’t work out, so —”

“Yeah, it’s Corbett!” That was Normie.

“You’ve heard of this . . . Corbett before, Normie?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s old news.”

“Not to me, he isn’t.”

“Aw, what have they got on now?” She glared at the television as yet another story came on with no sign of the man-in-the-street interviews on Spring Garden Road.

“Normie, what do you know about Corbett Reeves?”

“He’s Jenny and Laurence’s brother. Or he was. But then he ran away. But it’s okay ’cause he’s back now. You guys be quiet, all right?

They may have me and Kim on next.”

Maura and I left her with her dreams of stardom, and went up to the kitchen.

That’s when the phone rang. I grabbed it. “Yes?”

“I don’t appreciate this kind of showboating, Monty! Especially with our judge going out of town, and court in recess till next Monday. The jurors will have four days on their own to absorb this little stunt.” It was Gail Kirk.

“This isn’t my doing, Gail.”

“Justice Palmer just called me. He tried your home number. I suggested you might be at Maura’s, so expect a call. We’re to be in his chambers in half an hour.” Click.

I hung up, and the phone jangled in my hand. “Hello.”

“Monty, Ken Palmer here.”

“Yes, Ken.”

“You know why I’m calling.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“This is outrageous, Monty.”

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“I know. I didn’t —”

“Save it for the conference in my chambers. Half an hour. I assume you’ll have your client with you.”

“I will. See you there.” Click.

I said to Maura: “Ken Palmer is wild, and no wonder. If Delaney engineered this, I’ll have his —”

I grabbed the phone and stabbed in Delaney’s number. I didn’t give him time to say hello. “What is this Reeves kid doing on the sup-pertime news, Beau? And how the hell am I going to explain this to the judge?”

“I had no idea the kid was going to appear. I thought he was gone for good.”

“Are you saying you didn’t put him up to this?”

“Of course I didn’t!”

“Well, you’d better come up with a good explanation before we see the judge twenty-five minutes from now.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“No fucking way you’re going in there without me. I’ll pick you up. Now. Be out there on the sidewalk when I arrive.” Click.

When Delaney got into my car, we both started talking at once. I prevailed. “I don’t have to tell you how bad this looks for us, sand-bagging the prosecution and the court like this. Now what the fuck is going on?”

“I didn’t do this. I’m as surprised as you are. More, in fact, which you’d understand if you knew the kid.”

“I don’t. You do. Tell me.”

“All I’ll tell you is this: don’t put him on the stand.”

“Well, he’s already been on the news. The judge will be most anxious to know whether any of the jurors heard his testimony over the airwaves —”

“I don’t want a fucking mistrial, Monty, I want an acquittal!”

“Well then, Beau, if you believe in a higher power, you should commence prayer! Because I’d say the odds are against twelve jurors
not
hearing something about this. But let’s get focused here: why don’t you want this Corbett on the stand? If he had gone through proper channels, I mean. Were you with him that night? Is that what he’s saying?”

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He hesitated, then said: “Whether I was or I wasn’t, we don’t want him in the trial.”

“Why not?”

“Corbett Reeves is bad news.”

“Well, he’s big news now. What am I supposed to say to the judge and the other side?”

“Say this had nothing to do with us, and the only witness we have left is me.”

We were at the law courts, and I pulled in to the parking garage under the building. I parked, wrenched the handbrake up, and got out of the car. I felt sick to my stomach, and wondered in passing how many of these criminal client surprises I could take before an ulcer put an end to my career.

We rode the elevator in silence. The Crown attorneys, Gail and Bill, were waiting outside Justice Palmer’s door, and Gail started in on us.

“Save it for the judge, Gail.”

Justice Palmer walked in shortly after that, and we followed him into his chambers. He sat, nodded at us all, and said: “Let’s hear it, Monty.”

“I want to assure you and Ms. Kirk and Mr. MacEwen that neither I nor my client had anything to do with this. I have never met, spoken to, or heard from Corbett Reeves in my life. Mr. Delaney was not aware the boy was even in town. This is not our doing, and we both regret that he went to the media with this claim.”

“But now that he is, so conveniently, here at this time,” Gail said,

“why do I suspect I’m going to get notice of an alibi witness at this late date in the trial and —”

“We’re not going to call him.”

She was clearly taken aback by this. “There’s an alibi witness out there, or so we hear, and you’re not going to call him?”

I addressed my remarks to the judge. “We feel we do not need an alibi witness. There is no proof Mr. Delaney was home at or about the time Mrs. Delaney fell. He wasn’t there, and he will testify to that fact when he takes the stand.”

Gail said: “I have to wonder what’s going on, why you
don’t
want the court to hear this boy.”

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“You needn’t concern yourself with the conduct of our case, Gail.”

Kenneth Palmer took control of the meeting then, and asked again for my assurance that this was not a stunt cooked up by the defence. I gave him that assurance and I knew he believed me. Bizarre human behaviour and grandstanding before the cameras were nothing new to Justice Palmer after fifteen years on the bench.

Gail spoke up again. “Our problem now is to find out whether the jurors saw this or heard about it. No doubt it will be in the papers tomorrow.”

“They have been instructed not to consider anything except what they see and hear in my courtroom. And that instruction will be repeated, with particular emphasis, when we resume next week.”

†

I didn’t get much sleep that night, wondering what accounted for the sudden appearance of Corbett Reeves. In spite of the fact that I’d been hauled into the judge’s chambers over it, the emergence of Reeves should have come as a relief. The former foster son alive and well was preferable to the former foster son lying dead at the foot of a set of stairs somewhere, an image that had come to me more than once since I first heard Corbett’s name. But why was Delaney reluctant to have him involved in the trial? Was he with Delaney the night of the murder? If so, what was going on that Delaney didn’t want told, even at the expense of losing an alibi witness in a murder trial?

Where had Corbett been before Peggy’s death, and since?

I had my chance to ask him the next day. Brennan and I had a quick lunch and a draft at the Midtown, and we walked back to my office together. When we arrived, I saw the pale figure of Corbett Reeves slouched against the building. He was of medium height and slight build; he looked older than fifteen. He watched us approach.

Up close, I saw that his eyes were of a very light shade of greenish grey; I had never seen eyes with so little colour.

I spoke to him. “Corbett Reeves, I presume?”

“Are you Beau’s lawyer?” His voice was soft, but somehow strained.

It grated on my ears.

“I am,” I replied.

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He put his hand out, and I shook it.

“Did you see me on the news?”

“I did.”

“Good news for you guys, eh?”

“Well, we’ll talk about that. I assume you were waiting for me.”

“The girl said you were out for lunch.”

“The girl?”

“The one at the desk.”

“The receptionist.”

“Yeah, right. Who’s this?” He turned his attention to Brennan, who was dressed in a shirt and sports jacket. “Has Beau got a whole team of lawyers?”

“This is Father Burke. Corbett Reeves.”

They shook hands. Burke’s black eyes bored into the pale eyes of the young man. Reeves tried to pull his hand away but Burke had it in his grasp. They stood there for several seconds. Burke finally released the newcomer, never taking his gaze off him. Without turning to me, Burke said: “Call me if you need me for anything, Monty.”

When the priest had gone, Reeves said: “Let’s go in your office and get down to business.”

“Very well.”