Deverell - Sing a Worried Song

THE DROP ZONE (9781770907256) Detective T.J. Peterson has a problem, and its not just how much hes drinking or the daily, silent, tormenting video calls from his estranged daughter. A Catholic priest has been bludgeoned to death in church, apparently by a symbol of his faith, and an unidentified womans body had been found. Hes barely holding it together. When a deranged teenager, a possible witness, crosses his path, he is propelled into a sleazy, violent world of underage prostitution, sexual abuse, and human trafficking as he pursues a merciless killer.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

WILLIAM DEVERELL has worked as a journalist and lawyer, and he is a founder and honourary director of the B.C. Civil Liberties Association. He is the creator of CBCs long-running television series Street Legal, which has aired internationally in more than 50 countries. He is also the recipient of multiple literary awards, including the $50,000 Seal Prize, the Dashiell Hammett Award for literary excellence, and the Arthur Ellis prize in crime writing. His novels have been translated into 14 languages and sold worldwide. He was recently awarded an honourary Doctor of Letters by Simon Fraser University. He lives on Pender Island, B.C. Find him online at deverell.com .

SING A WORRIED SONG

by William Deverell

ECW Press

THE ARTHUR BEAUCHAMP NOVELS

Trial of Passion

April Fool

Kill All the Judges

Snow Job

Ill See You in My Dreams

Sing a Worried Song

ALSO BY WILLIAM DEVERELL

Fiction

Mind Games

The Laughing Falcon

Slander

Trial of Passion

Street Legal: The Betrayal

Kill All the Lawyers

Mindfield

Platinum Blues

The Dance of Shiva

Mecca

High Crimes

Needles

Non-fiction

A Life on Trial

Regina v. Skyler. Transcript, p. 453,

December 16, 1986.

DIRECT EXAMINATION OF MANFRED UNGER (CONTD)

Q: And when did you return to your hotel?

A: Sometime after midnight. I read for a while, and went to sleep.

Q: And when did you next see the accused?

A: Im not sure. Mid-morning. Randolph came into the room and I woke up.

Q: Tell the jury what he said.

A: He said, I really did it this time. I was confused, still half asleep, and I asked him, Did what? And he said, He wouldnt die. I must have stabbed him ten times, and he wouldnt die. I thought he was joking. He said, It took him forever to die. There was blood all over. He showed me his leg.

Q: And what did you see on his leg?

A: Tooth marks. Blood.

PART ONE

FOR THE FUN OF IT

WEDNESDAY, NOON

For you, Monsieur Arthur Beauchamp, pt vgtal aux champignons, then coquilles sautes. Baked brie for Monsieur Meyerson, and le coq au vin, which I do not serve Beauchamp, who has sworn off wine in any form.

The year was 1987, in late April; the event was lunch, and the place was Chez Forget, ill-lit and intimate, known for the inspired cuisine of the irascible, despotic Pierre Forget. Arthur had long given up ordering from the menu, having learned it was best to let Pierre have his way.

Arthur was shakily working on a coffee, his fifth that day. With him was Hubbell Meyerson, being supportive hed denied himself his favourite Chablis. Hubbell, his friend for thirty years, since college days, headed up domestic law at Tragger, Inglis, a well-established Vancouver firm. Arthur ran the criminal defence side.

Pierre studied Arthur with rare solicitude. How long are you sober now, Beauchamp? Pronounced, typically, the wrong way, the French way. Beechem was correct, Anglicized over the many centuries since the William the Bastard led his cavalry onto Hastings Field.

Dix-huit jou rs denfer . One does not keep secrets from the chef de cuisine at Chez Forget.

Bonne chance . The wiry little man bounded off.

Arthur had been sober since a weekend wassail eighteen days ago at the Gastown office of Pomeroy, Marx, Macarthur, Brovak for a young counsel whod just been called to the bar. At midnight, the party had spilled onto the street outside the buildings ground-floor tavern, the Shillelagh and Shamrock. John Brovak, a brawny, wild barrister, somehow got into a feud with the bouncer, and punches were thrown.

Arthur had been belting out a favourite folk song, It takes a worried man to sing a worried song, as squad cars pulled up. The officers stuck him, Brovak, and six other raucous, inebriated trial lawyers in the drunk tank for two hours, then had a good laugh as they ordered taxis and let them go. The incident seemed, happily, to have been covered up.

Taking a little time away from the family this week, Hubbell said. Theyre off to Florida with their grandparents. Easter break.

Im sure youll keep your nose clean.

Hubbell looked indignant. My behaviour will be angelic. This family lawyer had a history of marital misconduct. Arthur couldnt understand that. Hubbell had a perfectly lovely wife, two bright kids. Age had done little damage to this ruddy, handsome man, with his mane of silvery hair and winning smile. He was the one who used to get the girls, back in their college days. Gawky, slat-ribbed Arthur got seconds.

And Annabelle? Hubbell asked.

Arthur considered the many possible answers to that roomy question. She is well , he wanted to say, she is true, the marital seas are calm, her days of dalliance are over . But then he would have to knock on wood. He contented himself with: Working feverishly on next weeks Tristan . Arthurs flamboyant spouse was artistic director of the Vancouver Opera. His cup rattled in its saucer as he lowered it.

You feel you have it under control, Arthur?

For the moment. The addiction lurks, though you always sense it there. Like a crouching predator, ready to spring at the first sign of weakness. Arthur had just survived a long, long Easter weekend. Evenings were the worst, especially when Annabelle worked late and only fifteen-year-old Deborah was there to help him through it. But he tried not to involve her in his struggle, tried to shield her from his pain. Teenagers had better things to do. Hed had to call Bill Webb a few times, his AA sponsor.

How many days will the trial go? Hubbell asked. The Skyler case, set for the next day, Thursday, April 23. It would be Arthurs first stint as a prosecutor.

Im desperately hoping well be done on Monday. Otherwise hed be about the only lawyer missing from the Tuesday afternoon office party honouring him and Hubbell a celebration to mark their promotion to partnerships. Arthur might yet find himself uninvited to the event and to the partnership. Managing partner Roy Bullingham made his offer contingent on Arthur not running afoul of a situation that might grievously embarrass the firm.

Though the debacle in Gastown was known among criminal lawyers, word had yet to reach Bullys forty-third-floor office.

Different kind of game for you, Hubbell said. Hitting instead of pitching.

Far simpler than defending. The entire machinery of the state behind you. Everything presented in a neat package by experienced investigators. And its been test-run, though abysmally. If I cant do better, I shall retire from the bar.

By test-run, Arthur meant an earlier trial, in December, which ended with a deadlocked jury. A new trial had been ordered. In the face of angry mutterings from the public, the Attorney-General had approached the West Coasts preeminent defence counsel to lead the prosecution.