The Brutal Heart Read online

  “She’s happy with the outcome, then.”

  “She’s relieved,” Zack said. “I don’t think Francesca has been happy in a very long time.” He stroked his jaw. “Anyway, it’s over.”

  “Sean’s case is over too,” I said.

  “Whoa,” Zack said. “That’s a surprise. Susan Gorges must be taking the chief justice’s admonition to speed things through the courts seriously.”

  “The case never got to the judge,” I said. “Jason decided not to go for custody.”

  Zack’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

  “Well, I gather the issue was resolved in the men’s room.”

  “Issues often are,” Zack said. “God, I’ll bet Margot was pissed.”

  “She was,” I said. “And judging from her demeanour in court this afternoon, I don’t think she knew what was coming.”

  “Margo doesn’t often let herself get broadsided.”

  “I guess today just wasn’t her day. Actually, I probably know more about what happened than Margot does. Ed Mariani was in the men’s room when Sean and Jason Brodnitz had it out. Ed says Jason backed down because he didn’t want his daughter Chloe’s personal life brought up in court.”

  “That doesn’t mesh with what I’ve heard about Brodnitz, but I guess even selfish pricks can love their kids.” The corners of Zack’s mouth twitched. “Boy, I’ll bet Susan Gorges tore a strip off Margot: ‘A responsible barrister would have examined a client rigorously, exposing any ambivalence before this court’s time and money was wasted,’ et cetera, et cetera.”

  I laughed. “That’s just about word for word.”

  “I’ve appeared before Madam Justice Gorges more times than I care to remember,” Zack said. “Margot has my sympathy.”

  “So you’re over the time Margot threw tacks in front of your chair?”

  Zack chortled. “She told you that? Not her finest hour – or mine, to be fair. But it was nothing personal. Just lawyers butting horns – you know, like elks.”

  “Female elk don’t have horns.”

  “Margot has strap-ons,” Zack shook his head. “I usually have a pretty good feel for these things. I can’t believe the Monaghan-Brodnitz case just went away.”

  “It didn’t just ‘go away,’ ” I said. “Chloe Brodnitz used the blade of a box cutter on herself last night.”

  The fun went out of Zack’s face. “Was she trying to kill herself?”

  “No. According to Ginny, Chloe was careful not to cut anything that would affect her game. The school has a charity basketball game coming up, and Chloe didn’t want to jeopardize her performance.”

  “So she was letting the world know she needed help.”

  “That’s what the ER doctor thought.”

  Zack shook his head. “Poor kid.”

  “Yes, especially because the other kids look at her and see a golden girl who just glides through life. Gracie Falconer thinks Chloe and Emma are robots: talented, no freckles, no weight problems, no self-doubts.”

  “Does anybody ever get out of high school unscathed?”

  “I take it that’s a rhetorical question.”

  Zack grinned. “Yep. Anyway, it’s always good to know what’s going on. I’ll wait a couple of days before I approach Margot.”

  “What are you going to approach her about?”

  “Becoming a partner at Falconer Shreve. She’s a terrific lawyer, and your warnings that I have to cut down my caseload are beginning to seep in. I want to be around to grope you in our golden years.”

  “I want that too,” I said. “I’ll try to ignore the fact that Margot’s a gorgeous blonde with a great body.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with your body,” Zack said. He drew me close. “What are you doing for the next half-hour?”

  “Not a thing,” I said. “And we have longer than half an hour. After school, Taylor’s going to get her hair cut.”

  For me, getting ready for sex meant kicking off my shoes, taking off my clothes, brushing my teeth, and sliding into bed. Nothing physical was simple for Zack, and I had learned to stay away when he was forcing his body through movements that were both painful and, in his eyes, demeaning. That afternoon, I lingered outside, carrying the geraniums Ed had brought into a spot where they’d get the afternoon sun, and casting a critical eye on a juniper that had not wintered well. When I decided that Zack had had enough time to get ready, I went back in the house. There was a complication. The doorbell was ringing, shrill and insistent, and the dogs were barking. I peeked out the window and called to my husband. “Better lay low,” I said. “It’s Margot, and I don’t think she’s going away.”

  Margot didn’t wait to be invited in. When I opened the front door, she pushed past, planted herself firmly in the centre of the entrance hall, and cast an accusing eye about her. “All right. Where the hell is he? And don’t tell me he’s not here. I can see his car.”

  “I’ll get him,” I said. “Margot, it’s a gorgeous day, why don’t you wait for Zack out on the deck?”

  Saskatchewan girl that she was, Margot took off her stilettos and padded down the hall in her bare feet. It was an endearing courtesy, and I found myself warming to her. I took her onto the deck to the round wooden table we used for family dinners. “Make yourself comfortable,” I said.

  “Tell Zack I’m going to kill him,” she said.

  “I’ll pass that along.”

  Sensing big doings, the dogs followed me back into the house. Zack was pulling on his jeans when I got into our bedroom. “It’s Margot,” I said. “She wants me to tell you she’s going to kill you.” I looked at him more closely. “Incidentally, do you realize you’re not wearing any underwear?”

  Zack glanced down. “Shit. Jo, it’ll take me more time to get undressed and dressed again than it will take to hear Margot out. Her storms are intense, but they pass quickly.” He pulled up his zipper and snapped the top button. “Besides, going commando will make me feel tougher.”

  “Shall I make myself scarce?”

  “God, no. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

  When Zack and I went out to the yard, I left Willie and Pantera in the house. Neither of them handled conflict well, and from the moment Margot spotted Zack and sprang out of her chair, she was ready for battle.

  “What the hell happened to my case, Zack? And don’t play innocent. There’s no way Little Boy Blue could have pulled that off without some grown-up advice.”

  Zack was sanguine. “If Sean got advice, he didn’t get it from me. He handled this on his own.”

  Margot eyed Zack suspiciously. “You really didn’t know?”

  He met her gaze. “I really didn’t know. Why didn’t you ask your client?”

  She slumped into her chair. “I did. He’s not talking. This doesn’t make sense, Zack. Jason was ready to go the distance this morning. Then he and your little protege waltzed into the boys’ room together and my client emerged a changed man.”

  “Love at first sight?” Zack said.

  “You’ve become a romantic,” Margot said acidly. “And it’s clouding your judgment. My client didn’t fall in love with Sean, but something sure as hell happened. I did everything but bang my forehead on the pavement to get Jason to change his mind or at least explain, but no deal. When we went back into court, I had to tell Madam Justice Leather Lungs that we were withdrawing, so of course she minced me up into tiny pieces. Meanwhile my client’s standing beside me with this hangdog expression, like someone kneed him in the ’nads. All in all, it’s been a lousy day.” She gazed at the garden with longing. “God, this is nice. Am I ever going to live in a big house like you, loverboy?”

  Zack and I exchanged glances.

  “Why don’t you stay awhile, Margot?” Zack said. “Have a drink. Relax.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “In our family, we have a saying: don’t take the bait – it has a hook in it. What do you want, Zack?”

  “You. The firm needs another senior trial lawyer,
and you’re our first choice.”

  Margot sat down again, but she positioned herself on the edge of her chair, ready to spring. She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Are you suffering from some deadly disease?”

  “I want to spend more time with my wife,” Zack said.

  “Fuck that,” Margot said. “But as an opening gambit, it’s not bad. That said, I’m happy where I am. I like being on my own. I don’t want you breathing down my neck.”

  “I wouldn’t be breathing down your neck,” Zack said. “I’d be at home breathing down Joanne’s neck.”

  “Until a serious client showed up, then you’d be down at the office faster than a speeding bullet. I know you, Zack. You have to be Numero Uno. You’d never let anyone else handle a really big case.”

  “I’d let you handle a big case because I respect your work and I trust you. Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not an egomaniac. I take on tough cases because clients deserve the best representation our firm can give them.”

  Margot chortled. “And that’s you.”

  “Until you join the firm, yes.”

  “You think I’m as good as you are.”

  “I think you will be.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Zack held out his hands, palms up. “The offer’s on the table.”

  Margot gazed at our yard and house with undisguised lust. “I’ll have to look at the books, of course,” Margot said. “If Falconer Shreve is tanking, I’m not bailing you out. In any event, I’ll want a limited liability partnership, and I want a draw from the profits – a substantial draw.”

  “Why don’t I get the drinks while you two negotiate,” I said. “Margot?”

  “Gin and tonic, please, but light on the gin. I don’t want loverboy to charm me out of what is rightfully mine.”

  I turned to Zack “Loverboy?”

  “Heavy on the gin,” he said. “Numb myself against defeat. And thank you, Ms. Shreve. I’ll take care of dinner.”

  “Does he really cook?” Margot asked.

  “He orders in,” I said. “But he does it well.”

  Pantera made a break for the yard as soon as I opened the door. Every second away from Zack was agony to him. Willie, loyal and dumb as ever, stayed with me. The phone was ringing. I picked up and heard Sean Barton, sounding surprisingly vulnerable. “Joanne, it’s Sean. I wanted to thank you for coming to the custody hearing. You brought us luck.”

  “You must be delighted at how the case worked out.”

  “Delighted and relieved,” he said. “For a while there, I didn’t think it would go our way.”

  “Well, it did, and that’s cause for celebration.”

  “And hope,” Sean’s voice was tentative. “Have you talked to Zack about what happened in court today?”

  “Of course. He was really pleased.”

  “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Sean didn’t wait for an answer. “So is he around?”

  I glanced out the window. Margo was sitting on the grass rubbing Pantera’s belly, and Zack was watching them, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  “He’s busy at the moment. Could he call you back?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be here at the office for the next couple of hours. After that, he has my cell number. Any time is good.”

  I took out the tray with the drinks. Margot pushed herself to her feet, wiped her hands on her skirt, and reached for her glass. There was mud on her skirt and a smear of dog drool on her jacket.

  I groaned. “Margot, your suit.”

  She shrugged. “That’s why God gave us dry cleaners, and I miss having a dog. Until I moved to Saskatoon to go to university, there wasn’t a day in my life when I didn’t have a dog. My dad farmed, so there were always yard dogs. Whenever there was a runt in a litter, my dad would say, ‘Well, we’ll have to find a little bullet for that one.’ So of course, I’d pitch a fit until I got the puppy.” She beamed at the memory. “Every dog I ever owned was named Bullet. Dogs on farms never live long – giving them all the same name made life easier.”

  Margot’s childhood had been a happy one, and as she talked about her twelve-year-old niece, Larissa, it struck me that A.E. Milne was wrong when he said we can’t retrace happy footsteps. Like her aunt, Larissa was growing up in duck-hunting country, and as Margot described teaching her how to clean ducks so she could charge rich hunters top dollar to deal with the mess of blood and feathers their expensive rifles brought down from the autumn skies, her eyes shone.

  After Margot’s sleek BMW disappeared down Albert Street, Zack was smug. “I would call that a good afternoon’s work,” he said.

  “It’ll be handy having a partner who knows how to clean ducks,” I agreed.

  Zack snaked his arm around my waist. “Duck hunters,” he said happily. “Another client base to tap.”

  “I hate to puncture your balloon,” I said. “But Sean called while Margot was here. I think he’s hoping his win today might change the partnership picture.”

  Zack frowned. “Why would it? Sean caught a break today. It happens. Margot’s client turned out to be a more decent human being than our client. If a first-year law student had been representing Ginny Monaghan, the outcome would have been the same.”

  “Is Sean really no better than a first-year law student?”

  Zack shook his head. “That wasn’t fair. Actually, Sean’s pretty good. Otherwise, we would have let him go long ago. He’s just not partnership material.”

  “Why not?”

  “Truthfully? Because Sean doesn’t understand that the law is about human problems. At the centre of every case, there’s a real human being in trouble. The law is there to help them get justice. Sean doesn’t care about that; he just sees the law as a means to an end.”

  “Money?”

  “No. I’ve never heard Sean even mention money. It’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I just know human beings aren’t part of the equation.”

  Taylor and I hadn’t talked about how she was getting her hair cut. Except for a brief flirtation with hair products when she was in Grade Six, she had always worn her dark hair long. Braided, ponytailed, or brushed loose, it had been one of her glories, but when she bounced through the front door that afternoon, it was clear she had decided it was time to move along.

  The new haircut was boy short, with just a wisp or two around her face – très mignon, as the French would say. The gamine look transformed her face: her brown, long-lashed eyes seemed even larger; her cheekbones, more defined; her generous mouth, broader; her pretty neck, longer. The marriage of Taylor’s birth parents had been a disaster, but they had given Taylor a deep and enviable genetic pool from which to draw, and she’d been lucky. She’d inherited her mother’s talent but not her wildness, and even with the fierce mood changes of adolescence roiling inside her, Taylor had Stuart Lachlan’s steadiness. She also had his dark hair and delicate colouring, a combination that somehow softened her mother’s dramatic features. In every way that mattered, Taylor had always been a lovely girl, but suddenly I saw the physical beauty of the woman she would become, and I knew Zack saw it too. We exchanged a quick glance.

  “Well,” Zack said.

  Taylor’s face crumpled. “You hate it. I know it’s… extreme, but I thought… well, never mind what I thought.”

  Zack clapped his hands together. “It’s a knockout,” he said. “Your mother and I are just a little overwhelmed at how terrific you look.” He wheeled towards the door. “Hey, where’s that camera Blake and Gracie gave me for my birthday? I’ll take a picture and you can see for yourself.”

  I walked over and put my hands on my daughter’s shoulders. “It’s a great haircut, Taylor, and you look sensational. You are sensational.” I felt my throat tighten. “I’ll get the camera. It’s in Zack’s office.”

  The grey, eyeless Care Bear Francesca had given Zack to celebrate her freedom was still on the couch. I stared at it for a moment, then
went to the bookshelf, took down the camera, and walked up the hall, grateful beyond measure for a life filled with incandescent moments.

  CHAPTER 5

  Except for the comics and a quick glance at the front page to see if there were trials of note, Zack never read any of our morning papers. Whoever made it to the porch first brought the papers in, but after that Zack left them for me to read or recycle as I saw fit. That morning, there was a change in our pattern. When I came in from my run with the dogs, Zack held out the Globe and Mail. “Some nice coverage of Ginny in here,” he said.

  I took the paper, poured myself coffee, and read. The front-page coverage of Ginny was positive: a large and flattering photo of her with the twins as they came out of court and the headline, minister of family wins daughters. I read the article. The account of the custody dispute was factual, but the slant was positive: no hint of Ginny’s sexual adventures, and Jason Brodnitz’s decision to withdraw his case hinted at indiscretions he did not wish made public. The article concluded with Ginny’s response to a reporter who asked how she planned to spend the evening. “With my daughters,” Ginny said. “They’ll have questions and we’ll have to help one another find answers.”

  I put the paper back on the table and measured out the dogs’ food. “That article couldn’t have been more glowing if Ginny had written it herself,” I said.

  “Nope,” Zack agreed, “and the other two are even better.”

  I sat down opposite him. “So, a good news day.”

  Zack shook his head. The Leader-Post was folded in his hand. “Cristal Avilia made the front page too.”

  I took the paper and turned it to the lower fold. The picture of Cristal was smaller than the one of Ginny, but it was large enough for me to see what she looked like. I don’t know what I’d expected, but she was a surprise. The woman in the picture was fine-boned, with dark hair swept back to reveal a high forehead and dreamy eyes. She looked liked the kind of young woman I’d see at the opening reception of a small gallery or a performance art piece.