Chapter 13
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and Franky Doyle was starting to wonder how far into hell she had gone already. She had every intention of waking up early to beat Erica to the office, having come to realize that the only way to have an open and honest conversation with the senior solicitor was to catch her completely off her guard. She owed it to the both of them (and Bridget) to get some things straight. What better way to do that than to show up first thing in the morning? No excuses.
Unfortunately, Erica was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. She tended to show up anywhere between 7:15 and 7:45, depending on the day. Any time later would be highly unusual, and even 7:45 AM was considered late by her own standards. She liked to have at least a full thirty minutes before the rest of the staff started to mill in. More time would be even better.
And so when Franky rolled over to find the bed empty and the bed-side clock flashing 8:07, she already knew the morning was not off to a good start.
“Gidge, why didn’t you wake me?” she grumbled her way into the kitchen, looking to Bridget with accusatory eyes.
Bridget was in the middle of a bite of toast and tried to swallow quickly. “You usually wake me,” she shrugged. “I figured I’d let you sleep in for a change. You could probably use it.”
Franky gave an audible groan as she dragged herself to the bathroom. Bridget shrugged again. What was the big deal? It’s not like Franky had anywhere to be before noon on Mondays anyway. “I can give you a ride if you can get it together in the next ten minutes,” she called, receiving yet another groan in response.
By the time Franky had even made it to the Office of Public Prosecutions, it was already past 9. Technically, she had made pretty good time, considering that she had missed a ride from Bridget, and the first train...and the right stop.
But maybe luck was in her favor. As she exited the elevator to the seventh floor, she saw Erica standing at her office door with a set of keys. She rushed down the hallway, nearly tripping over herself. Erica must have been late too. Hopefully she could catch her before the day got started.
“I was actually just about to leave,” Erica said, giving an apologetic frown. Of course she wasn’t late. “What are you doing here?” Her face suddenly paled. “Oh god. Look if this is about what I said on the phone...”
“Well sort of,” Franky had to laugh. This day couldn’t get any worse. She leaned in close to whisper: “For the record, I was thinking the Director’s desk. Go big or go home, right?”
Erica turned bright red, dropping her keys. She quickly bent over to pick them up. It was way too early for Franky to be doing this.
“I’m kidding,” chuckled Franky, and Erica relaxed, just a little. She picked up the set of keys and handed them back to their still rather flustered owner. “A root on the floor of your office is far better, you’re right.”
“Oh my god,” Erica ran her hand through her hair, her complexion still flushed. She couldn’t even look at Franky. “Look, whatever you’re doing, I can’t right now, okay? Theresa and I are about to head over to Wentworth.”
“What?” The grin was completely wiped from Franky’s face. “Wait, why?”
Erica gave a proud smile, her posture straightening. “Vera finally approved our meeting with Ferguson. We’re going to have an interview with her.”
Before Franky could say anything, Theresa approached. She always seemed to be mid-conversation any time Franky, or anyone really, saw her. “Erica, sorry I’m ready. I found those damn files, they’d gotten mixed in—oh, Miss Doyle.” She gave a polite nod. “You’re not usually around on Mondays. Did Erica find a way to pay you extra to be here?” It was meant to be humorous, but the joke definitely didn’t land on the now stiff looking pair.
“I was just telling Franky that we’re about to head out to meet Ferguson,” Erica said, completely ignoring Theresa’s comment. “We should be back later this afternoon if you still need to talk.” She eyed Franky carefully. Her favorite (and only) intern, while full of surprises, generally didn’t appear at her office completely unannounced.
“Hopefully if this goes well, we won’t need you around at all!” Theresa’s excitement was again lost on Franky and Erica. “I mean for the trial, your internship is safe. Christ, you both have no sense of humor. This could be a great day for us. Let’s go Erica, they’re waiting downstairs.” She started down the hallway, already assuming Erica to be following close behind.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know how it goes.” Erica placed a reassuring hand on Franky’s shoulder. “If I see Boomer or your other girls, I’ll send your regards.” She rushed to catch up with Theresa, but not before turning back. “We can talk later, I promise.”
Franky was left standing by herself in front of the corner office as Theresa and Erica disappeared into the elevator. This was bad. Why didn’t Erica tell her that the prosecution had been planning this?
“Did you finally make it out of the house?” Bridget smiled.
“Why didn’t you tell me Erica and the prosecution were coming to meet Ferguson?” Franky snapped into her phone. “Jesus Christ, Gidge.” She had bolted out of the Office of Public Prosecutions, certainly not without attracting notice, and down the street to the nearest metro station.
Bridget rolled her eyes and sighed. “Franky, one, I’m sure I’m not at liberty to discuss the prosecution’s plans. Two, this literally just happened. Vera told me when I got in. I’m sure Erica would have given you a heads up if she had known sooner.”
Franky groaned for what seemed like the fiftieth time that morning. “She said that their meeting was ‘finally’ approved, that means it’s been in the works for at least a little while.”
“Wait,” Bridget shook her head, confused. “When did you have time to talk to Erica?”
“I was just at the OPP. I was trying to catch her before her morning got started,” Franky watched as a mess of people tried to push their way both on and off the train. She thought about joining them (though, hadn’t she already?). Perhaps she could still beat Theresa and Erica to Wentworth, though knowing full well it wouldn’t do any good. If anything, it was best to stay as far off of Joan Ferguson’s radar as possible. Especially today.
Bridget clenched her jaw. Is that why Franky had been irritable about sleeping in this morning, just so she could see Erica Davidson?
“I wanted to talk to her about,” Franky paused. Us. Me and Gidge? That wasn’t really it. She touched her lips, remembering that evening in the car. “...about our conversation the other night.”
Bridget relaxed with an audible exhale. She swore that her jaw could be heard setting back into place. “I’m glad.” She assumed that Franky was referring to their conversation from over the weekend. “But maybe first thing in the morning isn’t good for anyone.”
“Maybe.” Franky sounded distracted, the train humming as it waited to depart. “Can you do me a favor, and keep me updated on this Freak stuff, yeah?”
“Of course,” replied Bridget. “As much as I’m able.”
“You know what’s funny?” Theresa DeKoenig asked. She didn’t turn her head, her eyes focused on the road before them. She and Erica were able to take a government car and drive themselves out to Wentworth. It was slightly cheaper than having a driver and escort – the State was all about saving money, after all.
Erica looked over to Theresa. She had been gazing out the window watching the other cars pass them by. Going back to Wentworth had made her feel more uneasy than she had anticipated. But, to be fair, she really hadn't any time to process it.
“Charlie and I used to be really into watching those cooking shows,” she continued with a small smile, apparently referring to her spouse at home. “I knew I remembered Doyle’s face from somewhere. I have to tell you, that host was a real prick, we were totally cheering for her when she decked him.”
“I never saw it,” Erica admitted. She remembered Franky’s surprise years ago when she said as much.
“I’m surprised you’re not taking to chemistry,” Erica frowned. She took a seat next to Franky at the small table in the library. “I thought you liked to cook.”
Franky looked at the prisoner advocate in disbelief. “Have you ever cooked in your life? Fuck, Erica--”
“Miss Davidson,” Erica corrected with a smile.
Franky rolled her eyes. “Whatever, no one’s here. But seriously, cooking is nothing like chemistry. Next time you have to balance equations to crack an egg, let me know.” She stretched her arms out above her head, eliciting a yawn.
“Well, there are still proportions and things you have to follow, I imagine.” Erica looked over to the closed textbook. Franky’s homework stuck out, neatly marking where they had last left off. At least there were still a few months left before the HSC.
“You’ve never cooked,” Franky mouth spread into wide grin. “Well, you do seem pretty posh. You probably have a cleaning lady or some shit doing that for you.”
No, I have a Mark. Erica thought, her brow knitting. “I know how to cook, I just don’t usually.”
“Yeah, okay.” Franky rolled her eyes with a laugh.
“Really.” Erica insisted, though she wasn’t sure why she felt that she needed to convince her ward that she wasn’t completely inept in the kitchen. “I’ve even watched a few shows.” She hoped that occasionally catching Julia Child reruns twenty-odd years ago counted.
“Did you ever see the one I was on?” Franky asked seriously. She watched Erica carefully, her eyes appraising for an answer.
Erica hated when Franky looked at her like that. It felt like she could see through every thing Erica had ever said or done. Though, she had to admit, it was invigorating in a way. No one else ever managed to do that. “I didn’t even know you were on a show until I saw your file.” It was the truth. “Even so, it has no bearing on your studies.”
Franky gave a faint smile. She looked surprised, and perhaps a bit relieved. The look didn't last, and she just as swiftly got back into “character”. “Well then you’ve clearly never watched a cooking show. That one was top rated. Remind me to cook for you some day. I’ll even give you a lesson.”
Erica smiled back, promptly averting her eyes and opening the textbook. “Let’s get back to chemistry.”
“If I had been her lawyer at the time, who knows where she’d be now.” Theresa’s voice shook Erica from the memory. “You must have really made an impression on her. Good on you, maybe not all business after all.” One could never tell if the senior crown prosecutor was giving a compliment or an insult.
“I think we made an impression on each other, honestly,” Erica said absentmindedly. Her eyes glazed over with the sight of the barbed-wire fences she had left nearly three years ago.
- - -
"I'm just here to remind you that the prosecution is coming in at some point today," Vera Bennet said. She had come again to Joan Ferguson's cell with her entourage of armed guards.
Ferguson looked completely disinterested. "Did you really think that trying to surprise me would work? And here I thought you had learned a thing or two." She mocked an exaggerated frown. "Shame."
Vera sighed, she was trying to be as fair as possible, but in truth she was tired of giving Joan Ferguson any sense common courtesy. "You will cooperate with them."
"I wouldn't do anything different," Ferguson gave that slimy grin. Vera stiffly shook her head. She prayed that forging the documents to allow the prosecution to visit unaccompanied was the right decision.