The judge, a stern-looking woman with gray hair, sits facing the litigating parties and the public. Looking around, I spot Charlie at the front of the room. She’s wearing a boring pantsuit, and her short blond hair is smoothed back. Her face is etched with worry. Her lawyer, Maître Simonnet, is beside her. Next, my eyes lock onto the plaintiff, Alain Lefevre, seated across from Charlie. He’s a well-dressed man in his forties, oozing an air of arrogance and disdain.
I find an empty spot that offers me an unobstructed view without drawing attention to my presence. The other thing I do is scan the room with my cell phone for Bluetooth devices and make a mental note of all the names that pop up.
Maître Simonnet rises to his feet, clasps his hands in front of him, and begins to argue Charlie’s case.
My timing was good.
“Madame le Juge,” Maître Simonnet begins. “My client, Madame Charlotte Gotteland, is a highly respected book conservator with a sterling reputation. She takes considerable pride in preserving and restoring precious books and manuscripts. The idea that she would replace an antique book with a forgery is preposterous.”
I watch Charlie. Her hands are shaking as she clutches the purse in her lap. Her lawyer goes on, reading from a paper. His voice monotonous, he recounts how last year, Monsieur Alain Lefevre approached Charlie to perform active conservation of a rare and valuable seventeenth-century book. Upon completing the work, Charlie returned it to the client. Shortly afterward, he accused her of having stolen the original and given him a high-quality replica. That accusation is false, Maître Simonnet argues. He concludes by pointing out how the plaintiff’s false claim threatens his client’s professional reputation and finances and puts her at risk of criminal charges.
The room remains silent when he’s finished. The only sound is the faint rustle of papers being shuffled as the other side prepares to present their arguments.
I look at Charlie, noting how nervously she fidgets with her purse.Good.Thegreater her fear of a negative outcome, the more she’ll appreciate my help down the road. With the faith I have in her thanks to her dossier and the resources available to me, things look better than they may seem at this point. Not only am I confident we can turn this case in Charlie’s favor, but I think we can get the judge to rule that the old crook should pay Charlie damages for smearing her good name, wasting her time, and causing her unnecessary worry.
The best detective in the area has been looking into Alain Lefevre for the past few days. I’m meeting with him this afternoon, and he hinted he has news I’ll be happy to hear.
Will I have the strength when I see him to stick to Charlie’s case?Will I beable torefrain from giving them another matter to investigate—a personal one this time?
I should.The question is, can I?
The longer I stay away from Stella, the more I think about her. It’s killing me not to know if she’s OK, how she’s holding up after she sided with me against her parents. I wonder if the three of them had a cathartic conversation, once her father woke up. I wonder if Yvonne and Jean-Claude forgave her for betraying them. I’d really like to know if Stella forgave their lies. And that pathetic fiancé of hers—did she break up with him?
Opting for a clean cut was a mistake.What if she isn’t doing well? What if those events sent her into a relapse of her mental illness? That would be the worst possible outcome!
“Madame le Juge,” Lefevre’s lawyer booms, making eye contact with the judge, “not only are my client’s accusations not false, but we have evidence proving Madame Gotteland’s wrongdoing.”
Evidence?You’ve got to be kidding me.
He produces a stack of papers, waving them for effect.
“These documents show discrepancies in the restoration process,” he exclaims triumphantly. “We also have an analysis from an independent expert who confirms the forgery.”
Sure, bud, if you say so.
I feel the frustration build inside me. The courtroom remains perfectly impassive in the face of the plaintiff’s BS.
Maître Simonnet, on the other hand, looks unsettled.
His voice wavers as he addresses the judge, “Madame le Juge, um, we have not had the chance to review those documents. We request more time to do so, and to, um, investigate. And, to gather our own evidence to refute those claims, um, if we can.”
Why is Charlie’s lawyer’s response so weak?I would’ve been much more emphatic. It’s the way things are done in courtrooms… On the other hand, the plaintiff’s lawyer sounded very sure of himself.
The judge’s brow furrows as she considers the request. I shut my eyes in silent prayer. What good is the intel my detective has dug up if the judge drops her verdict here and now, based on Lefevre’s “evidence”?
“Very well, Maître Simonnet,” the judge says. “You will have a week to review the documents and gather evidence. We will reconvene then.” She turns to Lefevre’s lawyer. “What compensation is your client seeking should he win this case?”
Lefevre’s lawyer smirks, a gleam in his eye. “My client is seeking two hundred thousand euros in damages, Madame le Juge, due to the immense value of the stolen book and the intense emotional suffering this incident has caused him.”
What in the name of God?
A collective gasp ripples through the courtroom.
Ah, at last, a reaction!
Charlie’s face goes pale, her eyes widening in disbelief.
The gavel falls, the sound reverberating in my ears as the room begins to empty. Charlie’s friends offer her words of support, but I can see the hopelessness in her eyes as she glances at her lawyer. The latter checks his watch, tells her he’ll be in touch, and rushes away.
