Whipped: An Arthur Beauchamp Novel(98)
They were alone in the discovery room. Summoned by Cowper, Arthur had passed Farquist on the way in: he was stoic and calm, but Arthur caught a heady whiff of malice as their eyes met.
Cowper sighed. “You showed little inhibition this morning. I ought to have expected that, given your reputation in the criminal courts. Sorry for my little outburst.”
“It is I who must apologize. Old habits die hard.”
“But your impromptu screening didn’t elicit, as you intended, any confession. On the contrary, Emil was firm and blunt in his reaction to that tape. We quite honestly suspect it was doctored. If that turns out to be the case — and we’ll have it expertly examined — the stakes become very high for Ms. Blake, especially if she is seen as a party to the making of it.”
Arthur hadn’t expected immediate surrender, but nor had he expected his opponent to grasp at this flimsy straw. He answered a knock at the door, and Nanisha handed him the three experts’ reports, two copies of each. Each comprised several pages of analysis and opinion, and many more of source notes, technical data, and references.
“Full disclosure, George.” Arthur handed him the lengthiest one. “Professor Deore is head of film studies at the University of Calgary. Teaches film editing techniques. Former film editor herself. She found no evidence of tampering, splicing, or any manner of editing of the tape.”
Cowper scanned through it, looked up. “She concedes this is only a preliminary report and advises further testing.”
“And she is doing that. Brilliant young woman. Earned her Ph.D. at twenty-one. And this is the report from Fred Wiggins, formerly Staff Sergeant Wiggins of the Calgary PD. Their lie-detection expert. Hundreds of hours of experience. Testified many times as an accredited expert.”
“To little avail, I assume, given the infamous unreliability of the polygraph machine.” Still counter-punching, if with grim valour.
“A persuasive opinion, nonetheless. Lou was caught in one falsehood, claiming he harboured no enmity for the plaintiff. I don’t know why he would say that, given your client once publicly called him an irresponsible, vacuous twerp.”
Unexpectedly, Cowper smiled, and eased back in his chair, as if relaxing in defeat. “What else do you have?”
“Voice analysis. We felt lucky to get Professor Mathews. Your client knows him, of course.”
“Let me talk to Emil.” Cowper groaned as he rose, expert opinions in hand. He was not looking forward to sharing them with Emil.
He paused at the door. “We will have to insist on a confidentiality clause.”
§
Arthur and Margaret found themselves sharing an unusual lunch. Both had sworn they would never set foot in a McDonald’s, but little Lisa and littler Logan had been given their choice. One could hardly blame them: the restaurant featured a play area with tubes to climb up and slide down, a ball pit, and rocking zebras with saddles to sit on.
In the end Arthur conceded it had been a wise choice, because the restaurant was so busy that no one paid any attention to the national hero, Calgary’s desaparecido. He was hardly recognizable from old photos that had cluttered the news; bearded now, he’d dropped thirty pounds. Margaret got a tentative wave from one young woman, but she didn’t approach.
It eventually dawned on Arthur that no server was about to attend on them in their booth, and he took orders and lined up, attracting curious glances — the fusty old man in a suit may have seemed vaguely familiar. Margaret and Celeste had asked for salads, but Arthur and Lou were opting for Big Macs with fries, Happy Meals for the kids. The other team members, led by Sierra, had chosen finer dining elsewhere.
Arthur’s lunch guests seemed to understand there’d be no talk about the slander action. Lou and Celeste had other things on their minds anyway. Presumably, both hungered for intimacy, and had found it in their hotel suite while the children were asleep in an adjoining room. They were clearly indulging the rush of renewed romance.
Their plans were incomplete. Lou extolled the virtues of Porcupine Plain and of country life: his snug home, his new friends, the lovely little grade school, his expanding internet businesses. He would build “a terrific website” for Celeste and a studio and street-front dress shop. She could keep a presence in Calgary, for fittings, while doing most of her business online.
Meanwhile, he would write a book, a memoir of his year of trouble and triumph.
Arthur supposed the dark shadow of the Mafia would still lurk, but the danger had lessened since their capos fled the country. The case against the Waterfrontgate conspirators was falling apart anyway, according to Montreal lawyers in the know.
It was nearing two p.m. and another session with Cowper. A driver was waiting outside to take the Sabatino family back to their hotel. Out of habit, Arthur waved for the bill, forgetting he’d paid up front. Should he leave a tip? He dropped a few bills on the table, just in case.
§
On their return to the Courts Centre, a dozen reporters swarmed Arthur and Margaret, then blithely followed them through security to the elevators. A court sheriff caught up to them on the twentieth floor, quickly corralled them, and roped them off near the elevators. They were forbidden to use cameras.
Cowper, Hawkes, and Farquist had stayed in the discovery room, knocking heads together, maybe literally. There were raised voices, then mutters that even Pierette, who had positioned herself close to the door, couldn’t make out. She heard a clunk, a heavy book being thrown or a chair knocked over.