‘The problem is that if we flag the prenup as a potential issue, Wilkins is going to get his back up and want to jump into the fray,’ Rohan said. ‘That’s how he operates. He’s a loose cannon, Jemma, and we don’t want to light his tinderbox.’
He tapped the computer screen in front of him and Jemma twitched. She could almost guarantee there was information on that screen that she was not privy to.
‘If we make the domestic violence allegation disappear, we’ll have him in our pocket because he’ll have saved around half a mill in the DV levy. And that’s based only on his admitted assets and funds—I’m sure we can agree that there’s likely to be substantially more money involved once stones start getting turned.’
To her surprise, Rohan spun the laptop to face her, though the screen flicked to a photo of him cuddling a large Maine Coone cat. ‘In any case, you did mention the issue; if Wilkins failed to take it on board in the confusion of the moment, that’s on him. You did your duty.’
Failed to take in the information because Rohan had swiftly brushed it under the carpet. Yet it seemed that Rohan was correct: getting the domestic violence charge withdrawn was the best way to serve their client. ‘But we have no indication that Celine will refuse to testify for the DPP.’
‘Nothing concrete, but she accepted Wilkins’s initial gift last week, which we carefully couched as being to further help with the children’s expenses. And her lawyer’s shot through a request for funds to pay the bond on a new rental.’ Rohan shook his head. ‘Can you believe there are places by the beach that are over two grand a week? Not the kind of life a hardworking barrister’s ever going to enjoy, right?’
She nodded, although considering Rohan shared her penchant for advertising his standing with designer clothes and high-end accessories, his virtue signalling was somewhat misplaced.
Tien closed her office door with his heel before handing her a takeaway coffee. ‘I don’t get it, Jemma. If you suspect that Wilkins is behind the note, you have grounds to go to police.’
She’d finally decided to—at least partially—confide in Tien, but then had immediately told him that she needed coffee. She took the cup, sipped at it. Tien must literally run when he did the pickup—he always got her drink to the office dangerously hot, just the way she liked it, and every bit as good as the one Stefan handed her each morning. ‘I have no evidence.’
‘Surely finding evidence is the police’s job, not yours?’
‘Can you imagine how it would look? I’m willing to defend him in court as a client, yet I’m accusing him of harassing me? Besides …’ She hesitated, debating the wisdom of sharing. ‘There’s still something about the notes that doesn’t sit quite right.’
‘That’s a no-brainer.’
She shook her head. ‘I mean about the contents. They seem … juvenile. Not what I’d expect from Wilkins.’
Tien lifted one shoulder, then licked spilled coffee from his hand. ‘He’s not a rocket scientist. Wait.’ He shoved his glasses up his nose. ‘Notes? As in, plural?’
‘Ah. Yep. There was a second one.’
‘When?’ Tien stood abruptly.
She waved him down. ‘Ages ago.’
‘Be more specific.’
She made a show of nonchalantly flicking through her diary to jog her memory, as though she didn’t know exactly when she’d plucked the note from her mailbox. ‘Shortly after the first. But before I refused to collect those packages Rohan had arranged.’
Tien frowned. ‘You think that’s tied in?’
‘I don’t know anymore. Rohan’s story about failing mychance to prove myself to Wilkins makes sense, but the timing doesn’t work.’ She rubbed her forehead and exhaled loudly.
Tien waited silently, and she knew what he wanted.
She sighed again. ‘“You’re not as safe as you think you are,”’ she quoted.
Tien squinted. ‘That’s notsobad. Why has this one got you rattled more than the first?’
She gripped her coffee cup, willing her hand not to tremble. ‘I guess because it’s proof that someone knows where I live—’
‘Warned you about that.’
‘Yeah, well, thanks for putting that in my head. But that they have no issue with walking right up and putting their letter in my mailbox—’
‘Wilkins isn’t going to stroll up to your house,’ Tien said firmly. ‘You’re right, it can’t be him.’
‘Who then?’
‘My money’s still on that languishing ex-boyfriend.’
