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Chapter Six

August 18th 2000

She couldn't even look at him, his sightless eyes following her around their ruined living room, accusing, judgemental.

'How the hell could you do this to me?'

What the hell was she going to do now?

Horrified, she realised she was still holding the gun, and she let it fall to the carpet, dropping it from nerveless fingers, backing away from it, shaking. Still hearing the retort, the shock rushing up her arm.

The expression on his face as the bullet hit him, the horrified surprise.

What was she going to do?

She snatched the phone off the cradle, backing away as she dialled, backing away until she felt the wall pressed against her back, pressing against last nights bruises. Listening to the phone ring, counting the heart beats.

"Hello?" His voice sounded thick, almost drowned out, lost beneath the noise of the bar, so like his fathers that she couldn't answer. "Hello?"

"Jason?" She found her voice. "Jason, its your mother."

"Ma? What's wrong?"

"Something terrible has happened. It's your father. He was drunk…and I found…and I…" Her voice trailed away, her courage breaking beneath the reality of what had happened.

Beneath the reality of what she had done. Guilt settling across her shoulders like an anchor.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know." She stared at the slumped body, flinching as she thought she saw it move. "I'm going to phone the police."

"No! Don't phone the police! I'm on my way over to your place, Ma. Don't do anything until I get there. I'll take care of everything when I get there."

xxXXXxxx

August 21st 0900

"Clayton?" James Sinclair turned in his chair, nursing his early morning coffee. "Where are we with the Thompson case?"

"I have a meeting with Casey Novak this morning."

"Is she going to go for a deal?"

"I don't think so." Clayton adjusted his glasses. "She's got a strong case and Mr. Thompson did have a history of violence towards the victim. It could be tough to pull this one out of the fire."

Sinclair nodded, taking another mouthful of coffee. "Julie? Any progress with the Rossi homicide?"

"Mrs Rossi was released to her daughter's custody last night. I'm trying to arrange a meeting with Jim Steele for later today."

"Have you picked a second chair yet?"

Julie nodded. "I'd like Michelle, if that's possible." She smiled at the young woman across the table.

"Okay." Michelle Sinclair made a note in the diary in front of her. "I'll clear my schedule."

James Sinclair smiled indulgently at his niece, then glanced around the rest of the table. "Any other business? Then we're done here."

xxxXXXxxx

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I'm just…" Jessica glanced around the shop, at the ornately, expensively arranged wreaths. "I need…"

He smiled patiently. "I understand, Miss. Its often overwhelming when one finds oneself in this situation. Please, sit down. Would you like some coffee?"

Numb, Jessica sat down on a small wooden chair, surrounded by flowers, their perfume almost sickeningly cloying. Overwhelming?

Maybe. Just not in the way he thought.

He sat down opposite her, a small folder balanced on his knee. "We offer a number of different services, at a very competitive rate."

"I just need the basic."

"But we can…."

She cut smoothly, coldly across him. "I just need the basic deal."

His smile froze on his face. "Okay. Just the basic." He started to shuffle through the papers. "When would you like the service to be held?"

"As soon as possible. At St. Marks Chapel."

They had been married there. It only seemed right that her mother escaped from him there.

"Is there…."

"Whatever you think." She stood up, sharply, abruptly. "I'll leave it to you."

He wrote swiftly on his page, the scratching of his pen the only sound in the silent shop. He tore the page off and handed it to her. She glanced at it briefly, then scribbled her signature at the bottom, fumbling in her purse for the her credit card.

"Who is the service for?"

"My father."

"Your father? I'm sure we can work something out, Miss Rossi. Something more appropriate for your father."

Her eyes flashed dark with anger, her skin cold and pale. "Just do what I've asked."

xxxXXXxxx

July 30th

The table was silent, apart from the scrape of cutlery against the plates.

"How's work going, dear?"

Joanna Rossi, struggling to make enough conversation for all of them.

"Okay. I'm in court again tomorrow." Jessica didn't look up, concentrating on her meal, refusing to meet her father's eyes. She could feel his gaze, dark and burning with anger, cutting through her.

"What case is it?"

"She cant talk about it, Joanna." Joseph's voice was harsh, cruel. "You know she cant."

Joanna flinched as if he'd struck her. "I was only asking, Joseph."

"You ask her every time and she tells you the same answer every time. Listen once in a while. You might learn something."

"Calm down, Dad."

"She never listens." Joseph glared at his wife, who paled and looked down, staring at her plate. "She never has."

xxxXXXxxx

August 21st

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yes. I'd like to order a wreath please."

"Certainly sir." He moved smoothly, easily behind the counter. "Any particular colour or style."

Nick shrugged, his fingers toying with his loosened tie. "I don't know." He reached up, running a finger across one of the arrangements. "What do you recommend?"

The practised, reassuring, caring smile came easily to his face. "Who is the service for?"

"Its for a collea…for a friend's father. He…ehm…"

"I understand, sir. I would suggest something in red or black, maybe in a circular pattern or a cross arrangement."

"I want something understated. I don't want…." Nick's voice trailed off as he stared at the arrangement at the side of the shop, the name visible in the middle of it.

"Sir?"

Nick pointed at it with shaking fingers. "That…"

"Ah yes, sir. That is for a forthcoming service." He frowned. "Is that what you had in mind? It's not really understated."

"No…Who ordered that wreath?"

"It's the family wreath."

"I think I know them."

xxxXXXxxx

She walked past him like a returning queen, a graceful sway in her hips. Sitting down elegantly, crossing her legs, adjusting her skirt. Everything about her poised and perfect.

He closed the door and walked across to his desk. "Lets stop pretending that you can win."

She smiled at him, coldly beautiful. "I can win."

"It's a simple case. A woman shoots her husband dead, with an illegally acquired weapon and then tries to cover up the crime."

"My case is equally simple, Mr. Steele. An abused wife shoots her tormenter dead and then panics. Her son tries to protect her in the only way he can." She leaned forward, still smiling. "There isn't a person who wont sympathise."

"I disagree. I think they'll see the same thing as they saw with you."

She laughed. "All this time, Mr. Steele and you still don't understand women. Is it any wonder things keep slipping through your fingers?"

Jim rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore her dart. "The DA's Office does not want to drag this family through the courts if it can be avoided. We're prepared to offer Mrs Rossi a deal."

Julie sat back, folding her hands in her lap, raising an eyebrow.

"Murder Two."

She laughed, briefly, shaking her head. "You're insane, Mr. Steele."

"We've got a strong case, Ms. Phelps. The facts speak for themselves."

"And I've told you before, Mr. Steele, the facts aren't important." She stood up. "I guess I'll see you in court."

He walked from behind his desk, opening the door for her. "You should tell your client to accept the deal."

"I don't need advice from you."

She was standing close to him, too close to him in the small cramped office. Close enough for him to smell her perfume, for him to feel her breath against his skin.

"You owe it to your client."

So close now. He fought against the urge to run his hand through her hair. Almost lifting his hand…

"This is hardly appropriate behaviour, Mr. Steele." She stepped away from him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I guess somethings never change."

"Murder Two, Julie." He stepped away from her, trying to cover his embarrassment and anger. "Remember what happened the last time you went up against me in court."

The door slammed shut behind her.

End of Chapter Six

Please, Read And Review.

The conversation between Jim and Julie in this chapter is deliberately similar to their conversation in Episode Ten. I just thought it was funny!