“I am – I’m sitting here reading a comic.”
“The Adventures of Pentangle Boy?”
“Right,” I said. “How are you doing?”
“Lousy. It’s snowing like a son of a bitch, which means my chair is probably going to get stuck and my car is going to get stuck and I’m going to get stuck.”
“ ‘Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm / Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.’ ”
Zack chuckled. “What the hell was that?”
“The last stanza of Ezra Pound’s ‘Ancient Music.’ Anyway, it made you laugh. Anything wrong apart from the weather?”
“I’m facing a jury trial – that always makes my stomach churn.”
“After all these years?”
“After all these years. Jo, every lawyer is edgy before a jury trial. People are unpredictable – hammering out a settlement with the other side is a lot easier than taking a case to a jury. Of course, it’s also less fun. Actually, I was explaining all this to your younger son five minutes ago.”
“You were talking to Angus?”
“He phoned to wish me luck.”
“Lawyer to lawyer,” I said.
Zack chuckled. “Something like that. I haven’t heard so much legal lingo since I was in my first year at law school.”
“Did he make any sense?”
“Not a bit, but it was fun listening to him. He loves what he’s doing, Jo.”
“That’s what he tells me, but Angus has a way of channelling only good news my way.”
“Well, relax, because he’s happy in his work. As am I. I love my work, and I love my woman,” Zack said. “I’m a lucky guy. But it’s time to make tracks.”
“In that case,” I said, “I will see you in court. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” he said. “And, Jo, try to keep things in perspective. I’m going to do everything I can to get Sam off, but whatever happens, when the trial’s over, I’ll be coming home.”
“So I should relax.”
“You’ve got it,” he said. “Just relax and enjoy the show.”
On the courthouse stairs, I ran into Ed Mariani. The collar of his winter jacket was up, the ear-flaps on his Irish walking cap were down, and his cheeks were pink. He beamed when he saw me.
“Come to see your boyfriend in action?”
“No, actually, I’m
Ed’s smile faded. “Nice gig,” he said, stamping the snow off his feet. “I wouldn’t have minded getting it.”
“At this moment, I imagine Jill is wishing she’d offered you the job.”
Ed removed his hat and brushed away the snow. “Why?”
“Jill is concerned about my bias.”
“Because of the boyfriend.”
“No, because I find what Kathryn Morrissey did in her book morally repugnant.”
“That
“Maybe I’ll just stick with safe topics. Maybe tonight I should lead with the inside info on that mural over there.”
“Look out, Peter Mansbridge.”
“Peter Mansbridge was never a parent-helper on four separate tours of this courthouse. Did you know that the mural is a mosaic of 125,000 pieces of Florentine glass? Did you know that the gent holding aloft the arms of the balance of right and wrong is a symbolic God of Laws? Did you know that the females flanking him represent Truth and Justice? Do you want me to continue?”
“God, yes. If you’re that boring tonight, your job is mine.” The mirth disappeared from Ed’s face. “Talking about truth and justice won’t be easy in this one, Jo.”
The Sam Parker trial was taking place in Courtroom C, the largest of the building’s courtrooms. Those of us with media passes were directed to two rows that had been reserved for us. As we filed into our places, there was only one topic of conversation: the weather. No one had arrived in Regina prepared for winter. Smart fall suits and expensive footwear had been wrecked by the snow, and journalists were not amused.
I was wedged between a slender, trendily dressed young woman whose increasingly frequent bylines on increasingly more important stories suggested she was on her way up in the world of print journalism, and a square-jawed, deeply tanned, ex-anchor who was clearly on his way down. The young woman’s name was Brette Sinclair; the ex-anchor, who was a foot shorter than I’d imagined him to be in his anchor-desk days, was Kevin Powers. As soon as he was seated, he leaned across me to confide in Brette. “This suit is pure worsted wool, and it’s totally fucking ruined. I had it made in Hong Kong – cost me the equivalent of $785 U.S.”
Brette smoothed her silky black hair. “You should have bought Canadian,” she said sweetly. When Kevin straightened and turned his back to her, Brette silently mouthed the word
