Anya wasn’t in a position to comment, but said, “The prosecutor and police want justice for Giverny. I can promise you.”
“We’ll be praying that happens,” the woman said before moving on to hug a bereft teenage girl.
Afterward, Anya needed some solitude, so she retreated to her home office, grateful that Elaine was now on an extended holiday after managing the office alone in Anya’s absence. Peeling off first her jacket, then pantyhose, she hit play on the answering machine and flopped on the lounge.
Dan Brody had already left three messages. Each one sounded more urgent and asked her to call him the moment she got back. She groaned and sat up, flipped open her mobile phone, wondering why he hadn’t called on that. The black screen confirmed the battery was flat-again. She plugged it into the charger. Usually, Brody’s secretary called if there were cases to consult on.
She dialed his mobile number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Dan, it’s Anya returning your-”
“Thank God. Can you come right over? It’s an emergency.”
For once, the lawyer’s voice was quiet and almost unsure. She checked her watch. With traffic, she wouldn’t get to his office before seven. Despite the hour, she was loathe to refuse work from the busy defense lawyer. He had already kept her in enough private consultancy work to keep her business afloat, cope with the mortgage and pay child support for Ben. Ever since a colleague in his law firm had tried to ruin her professional reputation Brody had, as if to compensate, increased the workload his firm sent her way. The effect had been to make her a more desirable expert witness for other firms and an expansion of her consultancy work.
“Is this a new case?”
“I can’t explain over the phone, but I’m at home. I’ll leave the verandah light on.”
Anya hesitated. She had expected him to be calling from his office. After taking down the details of his address, she agreed reluctantly to go. As she was pulling the pantyhose back on, her fingernail ripped through the nylon. Bare legs with the skirt would have to do. Before heading out the door, she collected the examination bag and checked the downstairs window locks.
An hour later, she turned into the exclusive Hunters Hill street, highly curious about what sort of emergency Dan Brody had that couldn’t wait until office hours.
She didn’t usually do house calls to lawyers, and it wasn’t about to become a habit. One of his high-profile friends had to be in trouble. But what required a forensic physician in an emergency?
Brody’s reluctance to explain over the phone had been uncharacteristic, as was his distress, both of which surprised her. If she were being honest, the call had been slightly unnerving. She wasn’t completely sure why.
Brody’s street had mansions set back amidst lush, well-lit gardens. As she drove up the hill it was obvious that each home outdid the last in landscaped glory-and value. Either this part of the city managed a lot of rainfall, or water restrictions weren’t imposed or followed. She stopped at the top of the hill outside a red-brick home with wraparound verandahs. Double-checking the address confirmed this was Brody’s house.
She pulled the handbrake hard and stepped out of the car. The fragrant smell of damp grass in the night air made her sneeze. Floodlights showcased late-flowering wisteria over a large arbor, immaculate lawns and topiary hedges.
She pushed open the gate and entered, following a stone path toward an ornamental pond adorned with statues of cherubs. Foot-long goldfish swam beneath waterlilies, while a jacaranda tree provided glimpses of shadow from the bright flood lights.
Closer glance at the water feature made her uncomfortable. The inviting scene was a potential tragedy. The surface should have been covered with metal grating, preventing little faces from becoming submerged. It probably had never occurred to Brody because he didn’t have kids, but even a toddler could access the gardens, with potentially devastating results. She made a mental note to mention it at an opportune moment.
Up the stairs, Anya took in the harbor view and drank in the fresh breeze from the verandah. She straightened her shirt, checked her hair in the glass adjacent to the front door and knocked.
A few moments later, Dan Brody opened the door. He towered over her, even taller than his six foot four with him standing inside, one step up.
“Thanks for coming.” He ushered her into the house and locked the door behind her with the chain bolt.
Anya began to feel uneasy. “What’s going on?” she said, moving back toward the door.
“I just don’t want anyone walking in on us.”
“You’re beginning to scare me.” She looked around for signs of anyone else in the house. “Unbolt the door and we can talk.”
The lawyer put two open hands out in front of him. “I’m so sorry. That was thoughtless. I just meant that I wanted to talk to you privately and in complete confidence. There’s someone else with a key and I don’t want to be interrupted.”
Someone with a key? His latest society girlfriend, no doubt. Before Anya had left for overseas, she and Dan had shared a celebratory meal when a case of Dan’s ended with the acquittal of a homeless man accused of murder. Anya’s evidence had been instrumental in the verdict. That night, Dan had been attentive and sweet, but two months were a long time in his fast-paced world.
“Fine.”
Usually immaculate, Dan’s untucked shirt and jeans were creased, as if they had been pulled straight from the laundry basket. A crepe bandage barely hung on a bruised ankle and foot.
“Does this have anything to do with the first-aid attempt on your foot?”
“Yes, sort of. I stepped on some floorboards and went right through them. Wasn’t easy getting a size fourteen out of that hole.” He glanced down at his attempt to cover the injury, then reached out to open a pair of sliding wooden doors.
Anya followed and took in the room as he hobbled along. Most amazing was the room’s centerpiece-a walnut grand piano, flawlessly polished.
All the wall space was occupied by bookshelves stacked with hardcovers and leather-bound books. It was Anya’s idea of a dream room, only hers would have a set of drums taking pride of place next to the piano.
“I didn’t know you were that much of a reader.”
“I’m not,” he said, sitting on a brown leather lounge near a marble fireplace. “This was my parents’ home until recently.”
Anya knew that Dan’s mother had died and that his father was in a nursing home following a stroke, but very little else about his parents.
“My mother was a voracious reader. Anything from philosophy and religion to world affairs. It always surprised me that crime fiction was her true guilty pleasure. She was also an accomplished writer and artist.”
“Your father?”
“A couple of weeks after Mum died, Dad had a massive stroke. We tried to keep him at home but he needed twenty-four-hour nursing and the house and garden aren’t wheelchair friendly. To be honest, I think he found it hard to be here without Mum.”
He flicked something minute off the arm of the lounge.
“Anyway, we moved him into a nursing home but he had another stroke and lost all speech. I didn’t like the care he was getting so I moved him a couple of weeks ago.”
Anya felt more comfortable now they were discussing his family. She had not met Therese Brody, but had heard wonderful things about her philanthropy and work with indigenous literacy projects; she had obviously been an intelligent woman with a strong social conscience.
“Has he settled in?”
“I believe so. Where are my manners-can I get you a coffee?”
“No thanks. I am curious, though, what you wanted to see me about. Please don’t say it’s just to check your ankle.”
Despite the warmth of the room and seeing Brody in a new, almost refined light in his home, she didn’t feel the visit was meant to be social, particularly if he had a new girlfriend. Another woman arriving home and getting the wrong idea was the last thing she wanted tonight.
Dan sat straight and ran both hands down the thighs of his jeans. “Maybe I should just show you.”
He limped out of the room and returned with a faded wooden box, not much bigger than average shoe size. He held the object with almost outstretched arms, as if frightened of the contents. After looking around, he opted to
