Ed laughed. “Well, the exploits of a sexual swashbuckler would add colour.”
“And make a point,” I said. “Ginny seems to feel the rules for female swashbucklers are different from the rules for men.”
“She’s right, of course.”
“I know she is,” I said. “And because of her politics, she doesn’t have a lot of natural allies.”
“Including me,” Ed said. “To be honest, Jo, when I saw her at the party, I was prepared to leave her a wide berth, but she was your guest, and you looked a little desperate. I thought I’d take her off your hands for a while, but I really liked her. Anyway, if you want some company today, I’d be happy to come. Take one for the team.”
“Ginny’s not on your team, Ed.”
“Ah, Jo, you have no idea how large and varied our team is. The walking wounded cover the earth. The least we can do is offer one another a little support when the terrain is unfriendly.”
CHAPTER 3
Half an hour later, I’d finished reviewing the media stories on Ginny Monaghan, and I was dressed and trying to find a lipstick that wasn’t a stub. Taylor came back, ready for school, to give me a final inspection. “Cool,” she said. “And that lipstick I gave you for Christmas would be perfect with that scarf.”
“The lipstick in the gift with purchase?”
“It was full size,” Taylor said. “Anyway, since you weren’t using it, I kind of borrowed it back. Want me to get it?”
I held up the stub in my hand. “Anything’s better than this,” I said.
Taylor went to her room and came back triumphant. “Here,” she said, handing me the lipstick. “It’s called Tiger Eye – great colour, eh? And Mr. Mariani’s outside with a ton of plants for you.”
I took the lipstick. It was muted but managed to pick up the deep red in the scarf. “Perfect,” I said. “Taylor, how do you know these things?”
Taylor scrunched her face in dismissal. “Everybody knows that stuff.”
I filled in my lips and threw the lipstick into my handbag. “I owe you,” I said “Now, let’s go help Ed unload.”
He was standing in the driveway with the trunk of his Buick popped and a tray of Martha Washingtons in his arms. The blossoms were dark red rimmed with silver. “Halos,” I said. “My favourites.”
“Wait till you see what I have for you out back.”
Taylor picked up her backpack. “Can I look after school? I’m already late.” She kissed Ed on the cheek, and he beamed.
“Aren’t you and I about due for another evening of Barry’s paella and some serious art talk?” he said.
“Definitely,” Taylor said. “Except not this Saturday because it’s Marissa’s birthday party and not Friday because Isobel and Gracie are coming over to watch scary movies, but any other time is good.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Ed said. We watched her bounce off. “She’s growing up,” Ed said.
“High school next year.”
“It all goes so quickly.” Ed’s smile was rueful. “Gather your Marthas while ye may.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” I said. I buried my nose in the foliage and inhaled the pungent scent of new growth and potting soil. “I love the smell of spring.”
Ed’s moon face split with a smile. “My grandmother called this the unlocking season: the ice cracks; the water begins to run; the sap flows; the ground warms; people throw open their windows and set out the porch furniture, and we’re part of our neighbours’ lives again.”
“Whether they want us to be or not,” I said.
Ed laughed. “True enough. ”
Ed and I didn’t dally over the Marthas. Courtroom C was small, so we knew that if we wanted a seat we’d have to be there early. As we entered the courthouse foyer, I glanced up at the Florentine glass mosaic that greeted everyone who came into the building.
Ed followed my gaze. “The God of Laws with his handmaidens, Truth and Justice,” he said.
“Let’s hope they’re on the job today,” Zack said.
His voice caught me by surprise. “Where did you come from?” I said.
“This new chair of mine is called the stealth model,” Zack said. He was wearing his barrister’s robes and he was with his client.
It wasn’t in Norine MacDonald’s job description, but when it came to transforming bikers, slackers, punks, and hookers for their court appearance, Zack’s executive assistant was a whiz. Zack said admiringly that Norine could make Darth Vader look like a guy who deserved a second chance, but Francesca Pope had clearly proven to be a challenge.
Francesca’s clothes had been chosen to make her look respectable and responsible: a navy pantsuit, a crisp white blouse, and black walking shoes with a hard shine, but although it was a warm day, Francesca wore winter gloves and her thick grey hair was erratically hacked, as if someone had attacked it with dull scissors. She was calm, but her lips were moving silently in an internal monologue that seemed to absorb her. Zack introduced us matter-of-factly. “Francesca, this is my wife, Joanne, and the gentleman with her is our friend, Ed Mariani.”
Francesca regarded us without interest. When Ed said hello, she nodded, but when I started to extend my hand, she shook her head violently. “I don’t shake hands,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly rich and assured, a singer’s voice.
I withdrew my hand. “Well, good luck this morning,” I said.
She nodded. “Thank you.”
Zack touched her arm and smiled encouragement. “Time for us to go in,” he said.
Francesca started to follow, then her face became animated. “Look over there,” she said, pointing towards the door. The three of us turned and saw Ginny Monaghan coming in with Sean Barton. A couple of media people were pursuing them with cameras. Francesca stared at the group. Then she said, very loudly, “I know who you are.”
“That’s Ginny Monaghan,” Zack said. “Her picture’s been in the paper a lot lately.” He touched Francesca’s elbow again and steered her towards the courtroom. Francesca moved in the appropriate direction, but her head was still turned towards Ginny, and her face was dark with anger.
Ed nudged me. “What do you suppose that’s all about?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I don’t think Ginny’s going to get Francesca’s vote.”
Court wasn’t scheduled to start for fifteen minutes, but the room was already crowded. “Full house,” Ed said sardonically. “Never underestimate the public’s appetite for prurience.”
I raised a mocking eyebrow. “Of course, our interest isn’t prurient.”
“But we’re professionals. These other are…” He peered at the public benches. “Good grief. Who do you suppose all these people are?”
“Well, I recognize some of them,” I said. “They’re lawyers, and like my husband, they’re courtroom junkies. If Zack doesn’t have a case, he drifts in to watch somebody else’s.” I pointed to the front row. “There’s space up there. Shall we give it a shot?”
We made our way up and discovered that, in true Canadian fashion, the spectators had presumed the empty front row was reserved. We took our places, and within seconds, Ginny Monaghan joined us. Her closely tailored pantsuit was the colour of dark honey and her creamy leather handbag matched her silk blouse. She was the epitome of assured success. She was also incredibly alone.
She brightened when she saw us. “Right on time,” she said. “I’d planned to save you a place, Joanne, but it seems you beat me to it. And you brought Ed.”
“To support you in any way I can,” Ed said with a little bow. He lowered himself onto the bench and breathed with the pleasure of a big man who is finally off his feet. “As long as I can render my support from a seated position,” he added.
I gestured to the lawyers’ tables, where Sean was riffling through the papers he’d shaken from his briefcase. “I thought you’d be sitting up there with Sean,” I said.
