The Ancient Craft

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

As Matthew Jameson pushed open the main entrance door of the police headquarters building, cameras flashed incessantly, and questions were shouted in an explosion of noise from the assembled press.

‘Has she been charged yet?’

‘Will she plead guilty?’

‘Did you poison your husband?’

Jameson stopped on the top step with one arm protectively around his client. He had been expecting this ambush.

‘Mrs Vandermeer is devastated by the sudden and tragic death of her husband, and is here to assist the police in their investigations,’ he announced loudly. ‘She does not wish to make any further statement at this time.’

‘Is she going to be charged with murder?’ a voice roared from the back of the press scrum.

Matthew did not reply, but slowly forged a path through the reporters as he pulled his client’s arm behind him.

‘Bloody socialites, they think they can get away with anything,’ another anonymous voice yelled.

Matthew had arranged for a taxi to wait for them at the kerb. He wrenched open the rear door, guided his client into the back seat, and then jumped in beside her. The taxi accelerated away as he sank back into the soft rear seat, then he fumbled with the seatbelt before fastening it correctly.

‘That reception committee back there was organised by our friendly Sergeant Plod, of course. It’s all part of his plan to keep you under pressure in the hope that you’ll say something incriminating.’ He glanced sideways at his client. ‘We’ll have a long talk about it at the office.’ He inclined his head towards the driver, indicating that he did not want to be overheard.

Matthew had received a phone call at his suburban office just after he had arrived at 8 am that morning, and, as the young receptionist did not start until an hour later, he had picked up the phone. Jessica Vandermeer had told him in quick succession that she wanted to engage him as her lawyer, that Detective Brooks had called her to police headquarters, and that she thought it would be a good idea if he would accompany her.

Gossip is the main form of entertainment in legal circles, and although he had no interest in the society pages, Matthew’s legal partner at the firm, Lena Wasilewski, had been keeping him updated. No doubt fueled by Detective Brooks, rumours of romantic involvement with several of Vandermeer’s patients had been reported, followed by a suggestion that the doctor had not died of a heart attack as first thought, but had been poisoned.

Matthew instantly knew that the friendly chat with the detective was a trap, but sensed that if he went with his new client he may be able to gain some information as to the police case. He half-suspected that the intention was to arrest Jessica Vandermeer at the police station for the murder of her husband, but he felt that would be preferable to an ambush at some social function where she might blurt out something untoward without his presence. Her behaviour at police headquarters had certainly told him that she was no wilting lily, as she had stood up to Brooks without flinching. Whether or not she was a cold-blooded killer was too early for Matthew to hazard a guess, but at least this indicated that she would cope well with cross-examination if it came to a criminal trial.

Faint spots of rain appeared silently against the taxi’s windows as it navigated the city streets before swinging onto an access road to the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The rain gradually became heavier and the driver flicked on the intermittent wiper. Huge steel pylons flashed past as the taxi climbed to the flat stretch of the bridge highway. Glimpses of the busy harbour and the Opera House flickered between the steel supports, until a hammering of rain on the car’s roof replaced the gentle hum of the engine. The driver increased the wiper speed to maximum, but it was barely clearing the water before another deluge enveloped the windscreen.

Matthew leaned over to his client and yelled over the noise. ‘We’ll be there shortly. There’s a great little café just down the road from the office and I’ll grab a couple of coffees before we settle down with my legal partner. Her name is Lena Wasilewski, and she’s a great listener. She’s also much smarter than me as well.’

Jessica’s eyes flashed in amusement.

‘You can slow down if it’s too heavy, mate,’ Matthew said loudly to the driver. ‘We’re not in any hurry.’

The driver raised his left arm in acknowledgement. ‘Should be all right. I’ll just go carefully.’

It was as though they were isolated in an ocean storm, with visibility so limited that Matthew could not make out the streets, storefronts or vehicles around them, and only the roar of a passing lorry intruded on the noise of the storm. After another thirty minutes or so in stop-start traffic, the taxi pulled up outside Matthew’s small suburban office block in the northern beaches area, about one hundred metres from the beachfront. Although the rain had eased marginally, it was persistent. Matthew asked his client to wait as he jumped out of the taxi and ran into his office, returning several minutes later with an old golf umbrella. He then shepherded her from the taxi to shelter under the footpath awning. After returning to the taxi and paying the driver, he guided Jessica into the building, walking down the corridor past a doctor’s surgery, an accountant’s office and some dentists’ rooms before entering the modest office past a sign that read ‘Wasilewski and Jameson Solicitors’.

After introducing the two women, he walked to the little café that he and Lena used each day for lunch, and then returned to the office with a cappuccino for each of them. He immediately noticed that Lena had put their client at ease, chatting animatedly to her about some celebrity that she had seen recently at an eastern suburbs function. Matthew often marveled at his colleague. Lena had been smuggled to England from Germany in 1938 as a young child, but her parents were unable to obtain more forged papers to join her. She had survived the war only to discover that internment, gassing and incineration at Auschwitz had been the fate of her parents and every other close relative. Despite this background, she was gentle and calm, without any trace of hatred or bitterness. How this was possible, Matthew could never fathom. He felt fortunate that she had agreed to leave her lucrative senior partner’s position at a successful city law firm to start their own small legal business on the northern beaches with him. Lena was some ten years older than Matthew and their relationship was purely platonic, but they shared a rare common value system, and he trusted her implicitly.

The three of them spent the next hour discussing the circumstances of Dr Vandermeer’s death before Matthew asked Jessica the question that had been troubling him.

‘Why us? Why not some big city law firm? To be honest, we don’t normally handle this type of case.’

‘Your reputation, of course,’ she replied. ‘Tom MacGregor is the reason.’

Ten years prior, Matthew was involved in a murder trial, and the eventual acquittal of a government minister had attracted enormous public attention, as well as a certain legal notoriety.

‘That case was unusual to say the least,’ Matthew replied. ‘We acted for a government minister who was charged with murdering his lover, and the barrister had a heart attack during the trial. The client wanted me to take over, so I did not have much of a choice. I could hardly leave him unrepresented. But that was a long time ago.’ Matthew waved a hand dismissively. ‘If the police do charge you, it would be unthinkable to ask a suburban solicitor to act by himself for you in a jury trial. A senior barrister would be essential.’

‘But you also had a very experienced barrister in that trial – Oscar someone if I recall correctly. He had an Irish name.’

‘Oscar O’Shannessy. He’s getting on a bit these days,’ Lena interrupted. ‘Surely you’d want a Queen’s Counsel, assisted by a junior barrister and instructed by a large city firm of solicitors.’

‘It’s a little disconcerting to say the least,’ Jessica replied, ‘when the lawyers you choose don’t want to act for you.’

Matthew gave a small chuckle. ‘That’s not the case here. We’re only too willing to act as your solicitors and instruct a barrister of your choice. I actually agree with you that it’s not always the case that a Queen’s Counsel is the best option, but certainly someone senior is critical. Lena and I are not only business partners but also a team, and I would need her to help me if we act for you.’

‘I understand that and I agree.’ Jessica raised her eyebrow. ‘But Oscar is not your choice? What’s happened to him? Is he senile? Has he had a stroke?’

‘Oscar’s fine. I have lunch with him every couple of weeks, and he’s as sharp as ever.’ He gave her a sideways glance. ‘But I’m not sure that you did answer my question.’

‘You and Oscar and Lena are my choice. I don’t want some dispassionate Queen’s Counsel whose main motivation is increasing his bank balance and enhancing his public profile. I want people who care. Reading reports in the papers about the trial and watching you on TV, I know you won’t let me down.’

‘Well, hopefully you’ll never need any of us,’ Matthew replied. ‘It now seems that the cops believe he was poisoned, but the substance in his body could be some type of experimental drug that he was testing. Did he ever mention to you anything along those terms?’

‘He was always trying out some new procedure or another and testing new drugs. He was at the cutting edge of plastic surgery, if you’ll forgive the pun, and spent hours studying overseas medical literature on anything new.’

Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

‘I know that some doctors like to think they’re immortal. Perhaps he used himself as a guinea pig and made a fatal mistake. Anyway, that’s something we’ll have to look at closely.’ He gave Jessica an inquiring glance. ‘Any illegal drugs?’

‘No,’ she replied immediately. ‘He hated cocaine and heroin and the rest of that crap. He often said that those drugs were for losers, and that he was a winner.’

‘In any case,’ Matthew replied, ‘you did the right thing by calling me before you went for a little chat with Brooks. He has a reputation for obtaining critical admissions from suspects in murder cases. From now on, even if you’re arrested, you only give your name and address to the police.’

‘I know. On legal advice I decline to answer any further questions.’

‘Call me immediately when you hear anything. Until then, all we can do is wait,’ Matthew said.

‘I’m sure it will all be fine,’ Lena said, patting Jessica’s arm in a consoling gesture. ‘Just take it a day at a time.’