The Twists As The Story Turns

FLAMES

    
                                               

                  
                         1

She walked into the room, a shiny bag in her hand, dressed in a black leather trousers and a black sequined halter-top. Her statement jewellery and sexy black stilettoes screamed money. She had her hair let down, which hung gracefully over her shoulders.

I couldn’t but help gaze at those pair of lips with a coat of burgundy lipstick, the done up eyes, with thick black liner, and a pair of dark brown eyes, which had an unnatural glimmer in them.

She sat down on the polished wooden chair opposite to my desk and crossed her legs.

“Yes Ma’am,” I drew up my chair and placed my hands on the table, keeping a receptive, open posture.

“You have to defend me in court. I have been accused of the murder of my husband. I want to appoint you as my lawyer,” she said calmly.

I was shocked for a moment. In the three years of my life as a lawyer, I had gained a lot of name and fame. But I had always defended the victim. Never a criminal.

“I know what you are thinking,” her crisp words broke my reverie, “I had heard a lot about your job and you had never defended the dark side. But as a lawyer, your credit lies in being able to save your client from an accusation too. If you can’t do this, you are not a professional.”

Every word of hers was a truth but the way she said it, in a superior manner, I was suddenly really irritated by her behavior.

“What makes you think that you can dictate what I do or don’t? I am the one to decide whether or not to take up your case. I am not bound to take up yours,” I snapped.

“Oh yes, you are,” she replied in a chilly tone.

I looked up to see a gun pointing at me and her lips twisted in a mocking way.

I froze. I was actually dealing with a really dangerous criminal. I realized that if I didn’t defend her, she would be after my life.

“O…Okay,” I stammered, “I w…will but you have to be honest with me. I…I need to know a few things. But could you please put that gun down?”

She gave a trilling laugh, “Why of course, I will give correct answers. You should never hide things from a lawyer.”

I tried to smile.

“By the way Mr. Anderson, this gun is licensed,” she said putting her gun in her bag again.

I gulped, my mouth was dry, but as my ethics specified, I would know all the details of the case.

“So, did you really murder your husband?”

“Yes,” came the apt reply, “And I don’t regret it.”