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Lady Justice, supposedly impartial, wasn’t always so. Her scales were often tilted in the wrong direction by the weight of wealth. It had become more and more apparent to me in my years of reporting that the prison gates were reserved only for those unable to conceal their crimes with money.
I parked my car outside Flemming’s office building and walked in. The receptionist eyed me with suspicion when I asked about Flemming. I ignored her and headed straight to his office.
“What brings you to my office, Sinclair? Do you want me to keep you out of prison?” he sneered.
“I know you defend the scum of society,” I said, leaning in against his desk. The air around us was thick with animosity. “And Millicent Wark is certainly that, but for once, I believe she didn’t kill Victor.”
His eyes quickly changed, a look of uncertainty now taking over his previous look of smugness.
“Say it again?” He rubbed his partly bald head with a smile.
“You heard me. I think I can help your client, but I need to meet her. Face to face.”
“Ah, there it is,” Flemming said with a laugh that grated on my nerves. “You want your story.”
“Well, the story is already out, and everyone is telling their version. If you want my help, you’ll do as I ask,” I said. “Yes, or no? I don’t have a lot of time to waste.”
“You can tell me.”
“No. I want to talk with Wark,” I said, shaking my head. “Choose now.” I knew he was already floundering and desperate, so he agreed.
He looked at his watch, then at the clock before standing up.
“I do have an authorized visitation scheduled for today, and if the warden permits, you can meet her,” Flemming said, shrugging. “Come along.”
It took us fifty minutes to reach WHV. The only prison that housed women in Michigan. I had been here a few times before.
Petra Kim was also, officially, the only woman I had ever killed, a woman who escaped from the blind eyes of justice. She killed her husband and three daughters and was released back into the world because of a fucking mistrial.
After identification and security clearance, we waited in the visiting room, and soon, Millicent Wark walked out with a guard. She looked like she was on a fucking vacation or something, which made me want to let her rot in the prison.
“Who is that?” she asked with narrowed eyes when she saw me.
“He says he knows how to help you,” Flemming replied.
Millicent Wark was a tall woman with mean eyes and a smug smile.
“Is that so?” she asked, looking straight at me. “Tell me how you’re going to help me.”
“By finding the one who killed Victor. The real killer,” I said, and she perked up in her chair. “But for that, I need you to be honest.”
“Ah, is this some kind of a trick?” she tutted, looking bored.
I pulled the recorder from my pocket. I was allowed to bring it with me after I explained to the warden—Warden Bancroft and I were friendly, so it wasn’t hard to convince her.
I played the recorded conversation between K.Y. Wolff and the woman talking with her.
Millicent’s face twisted in rage, and her cheeks flushed. “I don’t know anything they—”
I waved my hand, cutting her off. “I know you’re not an innocent woman. What I know is that you didn’t kill Victor.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying to these useless pigs,” she grunted. “I don’t remember what the hell happened that night. When I woke up, I was in the middle of the road, and then the detectives were telling me I killed Victor. Why would I kill him? I was very fond of Victor.”
“This is my only lead, so… Do you recognize the voices?”
28
LEADING LADY
