Next to Die by Neil White Page B

courtroom entrance was visible from Crown Square, but there was enough exposure to take away someone’s privacy. Once inside the courtrooms, though, it turned traditional, windowless and wood-lined.
    Joe went straight to the computer terminal so that he could book himself in for Ronnie’s case.
    ‘Who’s prosecuting?’ Monica said. ‘I’m going to have to get to know these people.’
    Joe checked the screen. ‘Kim Reader, same as yesterday,’ he said, and he couldn’t help but smile.
    ‘Who is she?’
    ‘Just an old friend. It’s her case.’
    ‘Does that help?’
    ‘No. There are no favours here. Kim fights hard so don’t be fooled by her friendliness. She is ambitious, and she’s good, and if it helps her case, she will make you look small in front of the judge.’
    ‘Has she done that to you?’
    ‘Oh yes, and I soon learned not to be taken in by her. She plays it straight, but don’t expect her to ignore a weakness.’
    ‘You sound like you know her pretty well.’
    Joe tried not to give away how well he had got to know her when he said, ‘We were at law school together, that’s all, but she has her sights set higher than I do.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You’ve still got your head filled with the law, I can tell. I was like that. Your job is not about the law now. Once you’ve finished all your training your job will be to make money for the firm. It’s as simple as that. Kim Reader is different. She’s a prosecutor, doesn’t do anything else, and so she can think about being a lawyer. She’s got a weakness though.’
    ‘Which is what?’
    Joe smiled. ‘She’s all about control. Kim will want to do the trial herself.’
    ‘Can she do that?’
    ‘She can, but she will only get the trial as junior. A QC will handle the trial strategy, but she won’t back away from the tough stuff. And that control thing means something else: she doesn’t like losing. She will fight hard, but if she thinks the case is a loser, it’s gone. Not all prosecutors are like that. Some like to hang on for a slim hope of something. Sometimes that works. Most often, it doesn’t.’
    ‘What about you?’ Monica said. ‘Will you do the trial yourself, as junior?’
    Joe shook his head. ‘I got my higher rights last year, but I haven’t done enough trials to do a murder case. This is serious stuff, not an ego trip. Come on, let’s go find Kim.’
    They went to the robing room, just another plain door along a corridor, but the numbered keypad gave it away. Joe paused before he went inside. This was where the hardest fights were won, where the right attitude could rescue a settlement from the battle lines. This was also an arena for old-fashioned class war, with solicitors slowly but steadily taking over from barristers, who once enjoyed exclusive rights to practise in the higher courts, so that the old guard gathered in cliques, with their cigar-stained wigs and faded black cloaks, a dirty and ragged badge of honour against the pristine outfits of the solicitor-advocates. It meant the Crown Court had gained some street sense but lost some of its refinement.
    The people inside turned to look at him as he opened the door. Most turned away. He didn’t mind that. It was what he expected.
    The room was long and narrow, with lockers on one side and shelves of law books on the other. Desks ran the length of the room, and most of them were occupied, papers spread in front of the barristers, their horsehair wigs next to them, dancing a delicate balance between protecting their own interests and not pissing off those who sometimes instructed them. Except that Joe had heard them talking, whenever they thought no one else was there, about how people like him were interlopers, superfluous, just intermediaries, without the craft and guile that a well-trained barrister brought to a case. There was some truth in that – a good barrister is worth every bit of their bill – but Joe had seen too many cases thrown away by