Page 26 of Client Privilege

Sandra met me at the courthouse entrance, handing me an updated brief.

“Managing partner called twice this morning,” she said quietly. “Wanted to know if you’d reconsidered your position on the Delaney matter.”

“Did he now?” I kept my voice neutral despite the fury building inside me. “And what did you tell him?”

“That you were unavailable due to court preparations.” She gave me a small smile. “I may have mentioned you were in the washroom with stomach issues.”

I almost laughed. “Resourceful as always, Sandra.”

Inside the courtroom, Edward Blackwood was already seated at the defence table, immaculate in a suit that probably cost more than most people’s monthly salary. He nodded cordially as I entered, as if we were about to discuss stock options over brandy rather than his client’sabusive behaviour.

Marcus sat beside him, the picture of dignified concern. He’d mastered that expression, I realized—the furrowed brow, the slight downturn of his mouth. To anyone who didn’t know better, he looked like a man wrongfully accused, bearing his burden with grace.

I took my seat at the plaintiff’s table, arranging my files with deliberate precision. The courtroom was nearly empty—I’d requested privacy given the nature of the case, though I suspected Judge Patterson had granted it more out of deference to Marcus’s reputation than concern for Alex.

The bailiff called the court to order, and Judge Patterson entered. He was exactly as I’d expected—mid-sixties, with the pompous bearing of a man who believed his judicial appointment confirmed his intellectual superiority rather than his political connections.

“We’re here regarding Lajeunesse v. Delaney,” he began, peering over his reading glasses. “A matter of disputed property, I understand?”

“Your Honour,” I stood, “this is a matter of non-compliance with a court order. Mr. Delaney was instructed to return all personal property belonging to my client, including artwork, sketchbooks, and a pet cat. He has failed to do so.”

Patterson’s gaze shifted to Blackwood. “Counsellor?”

“Your Honour,” Blackwood rose smoothly, “my client has made every effort to comply with the court’s order. He returned all items in his possession. As for the cat, regrettably, the animal escaped shortly before the handover date. Mr. Delaney has been searching diligently.”

“That’s patently false,” I interjected. “Mr. Delaney sent text messages to my client just yesterday, including a photograph of the cat in question, clearly still in his possession.”

I approached the bench, offering printouts of the texts Alex had forwarded to me. “These messages not only prove Mr. Delaney stillhas the cat, but also constitute a violation of the temporary restraining order.”

Patterson frowned at the papers, then at me. “These could be from anyone, Mr. Richards. There’s no clear identification of the sender.”

“The unknown number appeared immediately after the court ordered the return of the cat,” I argued. “And the photograph shows the animal in Mr. Delaney’s bedroom—a fact my client can verify.”

“Objection,” Blackwood was on his feet. “These messages could have been sent at any time. There’s no date stamp visible in these printouts. And the suggestion that my well respected client would violate a court order is frankly offensive.”

“Your Honour,” I pressed, “we can subpoena the phone records to verify—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Patterson cut me off. “Mr. Richards, do you have any evidence beyond these ambiguous text messages that Mr. Delaney is wilfully withholding property?”

I felt my jaw tighten. “My client provided a detailed inventory of his artwork—over thirty pieces, including several that were exhibited at the Gardiner Gallery last year. Mr. Delaney returned none of these items.”

“Perhaps because they were gifts,” Blackwood suggested smoothly. “Or perhaps because they’re still at the gallery, as my client suggested during the handover meeting.”

“The gallery terminated my client’s exhibition after Mr. Delaney made a call to the owner,” I countered. “A fact we can also prove through testimony.”

Patterson waved his hand dismissively. “Hearsay. Do you have documentation from the gallery confirming they don’t have the artwork?”

“Not at this time, Your Honour, but—”

“Then I suggest you obtain it before making accusations.” Patterson’s tone was final. “As for the cat, unless you can provide conclusive evidence that Mr. Delaney is currently in possession of the animal and deliberately withholding it, I’m inclined to accept his explanation.”

I felt a surge of anger. “Your Honour, with respect, my client has reason to believe Mr. Delaney is using the cat as leverage to force contact. The text messages clearly show—”

“The text messages show nothing conclusive,” Patterson interrupted. “Mr. Richards, I understand you’re zealously representing your client, but this court requires facts, not speculation.”

Blackwood seized the opening. “Your Honour, if I may, my client has gone to considerable lengths to accommodate Mr. Lajeunesse’s requests, despite the distress these accusations have caused him. Mr. Delaney has been a pillar of the community for decades, a generous philanthropist, and has no history of the behaviour Mr. Lajeunesse alleges.”

“Because he pays to keep it quiet,” I said, the words escaping before I could stop them.

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