Noah's Law (11 page)

Okay, I admit, I was developing a bit of a crush.

It wasn't just about her looks. I'd gone out with girls before just because I was attracted to them. But with Jacinta it was more than her glossy hair, killer smile and good skin. She was smart, didn't put up with my shit, knew who she was and what she wanted out of life. And even though she was sporty, she wasn't one of those calorie-counting, chocolate-hating types who ate a carrot for breakfast, celery for lunch and snacked on wheatgrass. Those girls terrified me.

‘Want to walk down to Darling Harbour?' she asked me one lunchtime.

‘Sure, why not?'

‘My flatmate has actually turned out to be normal,' she said, as we walked along Market Street. ‘Doesn't steal my food, pays the rent on time. It's such a relief.'

When we reached the bridge over the aquarium at Darling Harbour we stood against the ledge looking down at the water and crowds of people enjoying the summer heat.

We were making small talk, talking about our parents and school and the usual stuff, when I suddenly stopped mid-sentence. ‘Hey, I know that guy!' I said, squinting to take a better look.

‘Which guy?'

‘The tall one over by the ice-cream stand. Blue shirt.'

‘I see him. Who is he?'

‘Rodney Marks. He was Maureen White's boss. The defendant in Bernie's case.'

‘Oh,' Jacinta said with a shrug. ‘Any more news on that case?'

‘Not that I know of . . .' My voice trailed off as I stared at Rodney. A man was approaching him slowly. He stood with his arms folded, his chin tucked into his chest. I couldn't make out his face.

‘Let's go,' Jacinta said. ‘We're due back at the office in fifteen minutes.'

‘Just a second,' I whispered as the man raised his head. I couldn't believe my eyes. ‘It's Bernie.'

‘Huh?'

‘That guy talking to Rodney is Bernie White! The plaintiff is talking to the defendant.'

‘That's unethical. Casey would have a fit.'

‘Why would Bernie go behind Casey's back like that?'

‘I don't know,' Jacinta said in a distressed tone. ‘But it's so wrong. He'll damage his case. What could he possibly hope to achieve?'

‘Maybe he's trying to convince Rodney not to blame Maureen for what happened to her. They're saying that as part of the defence. He was pretty upset about it all.'

Rodney and Bernie were standing close to each other. It was obvious they were arguing.

‘We need to tell Casey,' Jacinta said. ‘He's compromised his case. Come on.'

‘You go. I'm hanging around here.'

‘Are you crazy?' she said, tugging my arm.

‘You're employed. I'm there because my dad's punishing me. They can't fire me if I'm late back from lunch. I'll make something up. Just go. But don't tell Casey. Leave it to me.'

She sighed. ‘Okay, fine. But don't do anything stupid.'

She left and I rushed down the stairs that led to the aquarium, making sure to keep my distance so that neither Rodney nor Bernie could see me. They were walking now, heading towards a café. They entered and chose a booth at the back. I snuck into a nearby booth. Lunch hour was drawing to a close and at first I couldn't hear a word of Bernie and Rodney's conversation as people left the café, chatting and laughing as they went. Finally, quiet descended and I could just make out some words.

‘. . . Webb guy . . . liar . . . silenced.' That was Bernie's voice.

‘. . . sorry . . . unexpected . . . insurer . . . tougher than . . .' That was Rodney's.

I strained to hear the rest of their conversation but suddenly a group of happy tourists entered the café making a huge commotion as they joined two tables together for their large group. How annoying! Rodney and Bernie's words were drowned out. Eventually, they left and I snuck out after them. But they split up, each going in a different direction.

I decided to follow Bernie. He walked back to Market Street so fast I struggled to keep up. It didn't add up. He was supposed to be so badly injured he couldn't work at all, yet he was obviously fit and healthy.

He turned down Clarence Street and went into the multi-storey car park. I waited outside, hiding in a doorway. The gates opened and Bernie's car emerged. I did a double take. The woman who had gone to his house the other night was driving. Bernie had one arm swung over her shoulder and was caressing her neck. There went my just-friends theory.

 

‘Something just doesn't feel right,' I told Amit.

‘Well you've got the file now. Have you finished going through it?'

When I returned from Darling Harbour the first thing I did was photocopy Bernie's entire file and put it in my bag. I knew I was breaking the rules but there was no chance Aunt Nirvine would find out and I trusted Amit.

Now Amit was at my house, ready and willing for me to bounce my ideas off him.

‘No. I'm still reading Webb's statement.'

. . . at approximately 4.45 pm I recall that the store owner, Rodney Marks, approached Maureen while she was standing at the front desk calculating the day's takings and said, in words to the effect: ‘Hi, Maureen. Would you please deliver today's takings to our Surry Hills store?'

I recall this conversation as I was also standing at the front desk sorting out paperwork. I recall there were several customers still in the store and that they were all within earshot of the desk.

I recall that Maureen replied in words to the effect: ‘Sure, no problem. Just as long as I leave at five sharp.'

Rodney then said in words to the effect: ‘Thanks for that. Bridget will be waiting for you. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night.'

Rodney then left the store. It was approximately 4.50 pm. Some of the customers had left. I then turned to Maureen and said in words to the effect: ‘I can go with you to the other store if you like. It's safer
that way. But I have about another half-hour to forty-five minutes ahead of me here. Can you wait?'

I recall Maureen said in words to the effect: ‘Unfortunately, I can't. I just joined a new gym and tonight is my first Body Pump class. I'm really keen on going. If I miss this one, I'll get lazy and probably just head straight home. Thanks for the offer though.'

Maureen then used a rubber band to secure the bundles of notes and placed them in their respective money bags. She then put the money in a white bag and placed it in her handbag. She wished me a good night and left. It was 5 pm exactly. I recall the time as there were no customers left in the store. The store closes at 5 pm.

I was in the stockroom for about the next half an hour and did not hear Maureen's attack. Had I been at the front desk or out on the floor I might have heard something but it's unlikely given that the attack occurred in the car park and I was in the stockroom until I left . . .

‘He can't be lying, like Bernie says he is,' I said to Amit. ‘Why would somebody who's lying give that kind of detail?'

‘Because they're lying? The bigger the lie, the better the details.'

‘But you can easily check on that kind of detail. Casey just needs to find out what gym Maureen joined and whether there was a Body Pump class that night. If there was, then he's telling the truth. How is he supposed to know those kinds of details unless she told him?'

‘I guess you're right. Okay, so she's partly to blame. That seems really evil. Partially blaming her for getting murdered.'

‘Yeah I know. But I don't think she's being blamed for getting murdered. I think they mean that she helped put herself into that kind of dangerous situation.'

‘Well I think it sucks. It's just not fair.'

‘It's pretty twisted, huh?'

I kept reading.

I locked the store at approximately 5.20 pm. I was tired and decided to continue my work the following day. I went out the front door, on High Street, and caught a bus home. I had no idea about what was going on in the car park.

Webb's statement ended there. It was pretty convincing. I couldn't see how Bernie would be able to beat it. I kept on looking through the file. It was then that I noticed a letter with that day's date filed in the front of the correspondence section of the file. The letter was from Rodney's solicitor, Jeff Humphries, to Casey.

Dear Ms Williams,

Please find enclosed by way of service a copy of contemporaneous original notes of WorkSafe meetings that took place on 21 May 2008 and 18 June 2008. The notes, which are contained in JSW's WorkSafe Minutes of Meetings notebook, were inadvertently omitted from the bundle of discovery served on you in August.

Yours sincerely,

Jeff Humphries.

I scanned the notes and was surprised to find that they were seriously bad news for Jenkins Storage World.

 

• Complaint about water on tiles in staff toilet. Floors are too slippery. Investigate whether tiles can be treated or need replacement.

• Complaint also made about hot water being too hot. Check thermostat.

• Question: Should we hire security guards re transfer of money?

The June meeting notes went on about the dangers associated with transferring money as well.

 

• WorkCover requires us to implement its cash-in-transit guidelines. We need to look into this urgently to avoid audit or incidents.

• Hiring of security guards still has not been investigated. Attend to this task urgently. Also consider whether cash transit between stores should be done by one staff member or in pairs. But this would be expensive, extra time equals extra wages. Cheaper alternative?

Didn't all of this prove that Jenkins Storage World knew about the dangers but that they didn't get their shit together and do something about it? I thought about Maureen again and felt bad. She didn't have to die. As angry as I was with Bernie for not being the person I thought he was, I felt even more sympathy for him now. Or maybe I didn't. I just felt angrier with Rodney and Jenkins Storage World for knowing what they needed to do to make it safe to transport cash but being too lazy to actually do it. Bernie was right. They were pigs! They
should
pay. And to hell with Webb's statement.

Now I understood Bernie's fury about the contributory negligence defence. Who cared if Maureen refused Webb's offer? She should never have had to make that decision about how to transport the cash. Security guards should have been there.

I wondered why Humphries had served something that made his client look bad.

‘Because he's an idiot,' Amit offered.

‘Yeah, there's that, but there must be another reason. I need to ask Dad.'

Well aware that I rarely give my dad the satisfaction of asking him questions about law, Amit raised his eyebrows.

Dad was in the study, reading.

‘Hey, Dad?'

Without lifting his eyes from the page, he said, ‘Noah, you would not believe the audacity of the defendant's submissions. They actually believe their title to the property has priority over all other encumbrances. Twisting the equitable doctrine of indefeasibility of title! The arrogance!'

‘That's fascinating,' I said. ‘Dad, Amit's reading a John Grisham book,' I began, before he had time to launch into a lecture.

‘Grisham? Insolent man! Popularising law for the masses who are willing to feed off his commercialisation of the most sacred institution of society – and all for the sake of profits.'

I recognised a potential meltdown here and quickly cut him off.

‘Actually, Dad, Amit's finding some parts of the book interesting and since you're a lawyer, he has a question.'

Dad cleared his throat. I knew he'd tried murderers and fraudsters and had one of the most sophisticated bullshit detectors humankind had ever known. Although I was a pretty good bullshit artist, I had to admit it was difficult to outsmart him. But we understood each other, which meant that I could continue this ridiculous act and he wouldn't confront me. Of course, I could always tell him that working at Aunt Nirvine's firm had got me interested in a case but there would have been a higher probability of Casey winning the Best Personality award at the Logies.

‘He's wondering why a defendant would give a plaintiff documents that make the defendant look bad?'

‘Simple,' he said, leaning back in his black leather chair. ‘The process of discovery requires parties to exchange documents relevant to the case, whether those documents incriminate the party or not, and even after discovery orders have expired. If a party fails to discover documents, even the most damaging ones, they are in contempt of court orders. So they have an obligation, notwithstanding the potentially damaging impact it may have on their case.'

I maintained a neutral expression although my brain was working overtime. Even if Jenkins Storage World had until the end of the case to give up its documents there was still something suspicious about the way these documents suddenly appeared. Or was I blowing things out of proportion just to keep myself from dying of boredom while photocopying another brief?