Amy, a Lawyer

Copyright 2016

Amy closed her eyes and rubbed her hand across her forehead trying to clear the headache. She didn't regret her decision to take the job in the Public Defenders' Office. It felt good helping people who couldn't afford a lawyer by themselves, but she hadn't really been prepared for the workload. Looking around her small office, choked with legal texts and case files, she smiled ruefully to herself. At least she had a job, some of the friends she'd graduated with still hadn't found one. Finally the young woman let her eyes rest on her legal degrees, hanging framed on the only free space she had been able to find on the wall. She'd worked hard for them, she'd wanted to be a lawyer for as long as she could remember, but what she had now wasn't quite what she'd imagined, watching legal dramas as a teenager. Amy didn't expect something paid for by the government to compete with the large, plush, offices of private law firms. But it would have been nice to have a little more space. She sometimes half-imagined the bookshelves would all topple over on to her someday. Even though she had made maintenance fix them firmly to the walls.

Amy's office was just one of many. Over two dozen people worked there, lawyers, clerks, receptionists, and Amy felt like she didn't really know any of them. It was six months since she'd started, but her co-workers were still a mystery to her. And so, she supposed, she was to them. Oh they were nice enough, but they were all so rushed with the torrent of work that there really wasn't much time for office socialising. They tried to have a drink every couple of weeks, but even then not everyone could make it. Last Friday Tony had begged off to prepare for an urgent bail hearing and Sonya had stayed at the office as she had too many files to read for her first case on Monday. And the talk was always mostly work anyway. Not that she was any better, Amy grudgingly admitted. She still enjoyed being a lawyer too much to want to talk about anything else. But she was sure that she must have dealt with a hundred cases since she began here.

"Stop daydreaming," Amy told herself, concentrating again on the witness statements in front of her. Bag snatching. The witness' accounts didn't add up to much, as was typical their descriptions hardly matched.

"If you hold them upside and read them backwards maybe they fit Ben," the young lawyer mused.

Ben Atwold, 14 years and from the estates, was the accused. But conflicting witness statements wouldn't help here. Ben had been caught with the bag. And he had form. The best Amy could hope for was to get him into a reform program rather than Juvenile Detention. Or Juvenile Crime Academy as they called it around the office.

Putting the statements aside Amy started to look up the phone numbers for the prevention programs, to see if she could start arranging a spot for Ben before the next hearing. Judges were always more inclined to see it her way if the place was guaranteed.

Just as she found the number she wanted the phone rang. The number on the display showed it was Natalie, the younger of their two office administrators. Amy liked Natalie. If she knew anyone here it was the cute brunette. But even then their relationship was pretty much co-workers and nothing more. She didn't even know what Natalie liked to do outside the office. What books she liked or movies or anything. It was hard to consider her a friend when Amy didn't know whether they had anything in common or not.

"Amy?" sure enough, Amy recognised Natalie's voice.

"Yes." Uh oh, I bet this isn't asking if I'm short of stationery.

"We need someone down at one of the nicks," said Natalie.

"Oh come on Natalie," Amy tried to sound put upon but not too begging. "I'm up to my ears here."

"And everyone else is over theirs. A couple of your cases finished this week, so you're next off the block," said Natalie firmly.

"What about Simon? He had more finish up than me," Amy parried back.

"And I already loaded him up again this morning". Natalie sighed, letting go her formal manner for a moment "Look, I know it's an extra load, but I think this one will be pretty straightforward."

"Okay," Amy surrendered. She trusted Natalie, and if she said that Amy had to take the next case, then that was that, no matter how much else she had on. "What is it and which station?"

"Soliciting, come out here and I've got all the details. Caught in the act, so just get her bail and you should be right back here".

Yeah right, thought Amy, looking at the clock. 4pm already. By the time I'm finished at the police station there'll be no point coming back here. And tomorrow is Saturday. Better take some files to read over the weekend.

After getting Natalie to agree to try the prevention programs for a place for Ben Amy headed off for the police station.

The arresting officer, Constable Daniel McPherson, was every bit as confident as Natalie had implied.

"Yes Miss Jennings", Amy noticed the hesitation at Miss, as if Police Constable (or PC as it was usually abbreviated) McPherson was wondering if he should have used Ms. Amy didn't care either way, so made no sign. "My colleague, PC Manning," McPherson indicated the uniformed woman sitting next to him with a bored look on her face, "and I saw the suspect just before 3pm this afternoon in the High Street talking to a man in a car that had just pulled in the side of the road. It was pretty clear what was going on."

"Well, I'm sure it will all be in your statements," Amy said. It all sounded more than a little circumstantial to her. The High Street wasn't exactly a known venue for prostitution and if the police hadn't actually heard the conversation or seen money changing hands then the public prosecutor could find it difficult to prove the accusation. McPherson had monopolised the conversation. While his colleague had confirmed the basics of his account Amy could tell PC Manning wasn't as convinced.

Now that she looked at McPherson again Amy could tell he wasn't that old. Probably as fresh on the beat as I am at the bar, she thought. Amy was willing to wager that the young PC was trying to impress his superiors by enforcing the latest clean-up drive. Manning looked only a couple of years older, but had that edge about her that said she knew more about what was and wasn't possible. The young lawyer noted that Manning hadn't contradicted her colleague, but neither had she backed up his suspicions.

"But if I could see my client now I would appreciate it," Amy said firmly.

The constables were happy to provide Amy with an interview room in which she could talk to her client. But the woman waiting for her, Sophie Griffiths, wasn't exactly what Amy had expected. She wasn't as nervous as most of the people Amy talked to in police stations. Her clients tended to be afraid, or in denial, or eager to cut some sort of deal. Some of them were even angry. Sure, Sophie looked angry. But the sort of angry clients that needed public defenders tended to be open about it. Shouts, threats to the police. Amy had even dealt with clients who directed their anger at her. But Sophie's anger seemed more a slow burn.

Amy stopped for a moment in the doorway, trying to see Sophie as the police had. She was certainly attractive, even features accentuated by striking cheekbones and dark-brown hair that was almost black cut short and curling forward under the ears. Sophie looked about Amy's age, 24. But she wasn't exactly dressed for streetside soliciting, in what looked like comfortable jeans, worn joggers and a somewhat beaten-up looking jacket. She looked more like Amy and her friends when they were in university than the source of society's moral corruption.

"Who are you?" Sophie's question broke Amy out of her contemplation.

"Amy Jennings. I'm the lawyer assigned to your case," Amy said levelly as she took a seat opposite Sophie.

The brunette's anger seemed to drift away like smoke as she gave Amy a look up and down. "I thought I'd need a barrister and a solicitor, which are you?" Sophie asked. She sounds like she knows something about legal proceedings, thought Amy, I wonder if she's been through this before?

"In a lot of lower court matters these days, no", answered Amy, starting to wonder who was questioning whom, "It saves a lot of time if you only have to deal with one lawyer."

"And money," added Sophie pointedly. Amy looked up from the papers she was getting out. She thought she might have just caught a half smile on Sophie's face, but she wasn't sure.

"Um yes." Amy decided she needed to get this conversation back under her control.

"Now Miss Griffiths," Amy began.

"Please, call me Sophie," her client interrupted. The brunette's voice was playful now, the change making Amy feel more off balance.

"Umm, if you like," Amy replied, uncertainly, the nonchalant attitude of her client unsettling her. Again she tried to take charge.

"The police allege that just before 3pm this afternoon you were soliciting in the High Street." Deliberately Amy didn't use her client's name. I have to keep this formal, she thought. "I have to ask, are you intending to contest the charge?"

Sophie smothered a laugh, "Of course I didn't do it, why would I do that?"

"Well, they claim they saw you talking to a man in a car, is that true?" Amy continued.

"Yes. Poor old dear was lost," Sophie shook her head. "He pulled over to ask directions."

Sounds reasonable, thought Amy, so why did the police think you were soliciting?

"And you still haven't called me Sophie." Again her client's directness cut through Amy's thoughts.

"What?" Amy found herself looking into Sophie's eyes and for a moment a feeling of dizziness assaulted her.

"C'mon, call me Sophie," the brunette's voice was teasing, playful.

"Oh, okay, Sophie." Amy thought she may as well let Sophie have her way. Then maybe the other woman would let Amy do what she needed to do.

"Good," Sophie smiled, "and you're Amy, right?"

"Uh, yes." Amy barely registered that Sophie hadn't asked whether she could call her by her first name.

"OK, Amy, so what do you need to know?" Sophie asked, evenly. Good, thought Amy, now we can get to it.

"Well, do you have any idea why the police thought you were soliciting?"

"Oh that's easy," Sophie declared, "I'm a prostitute".

"What?" Amy had to struggle to keep from shouting. She'd been convinced that this was a case of an innocent girl and an over-eager constable.

"Oh yes Amy," continued Sophie, smiling, and not waiting to see if the young lawyer had anything to add, "they know I'm a prostitute. But that's what's so stupid about it."

"Err," her head spinning at the contradictions in Sophie's statement, Amy could again feel her control of the conversation receding. If she had ever had any, that is.

"I work in the brothel over on Castle Street, Colette's" Sophie continued, ignoring Amy's protestations. "My shift was supposed to start at 3pm and I was running late. So, one, why would I take a job and make myself even later? And two, I'm no streetwalker – that's loser territory. Our brothel is legal. Why would I take the risk of some psycho picking me up? Not to mention I'd be breaking the law."

Amy could feel her eyes widening as Sophie spoke. "But."

"Oh I get it Amy," said Sophie confidently, cutting her lawyer off. "You don't think I look like I'm on the game, right? Well, I'm not going to parade around in my work clothes. A bit too cold, if you get what I mean."

"I suppose," Amy replied, meekly.

"I mean," continued Sophie, "you can't just tell by looking at someone whether they're a whore, right?" Amy found herself nodding in response. "Look at you, you're prettier than I am." Again Amy found herself agreeing. She kept herself in shape and her good looks and long blonde hair had attracted more than her fair share of male attention. She wasn't sure she was more attractive than Sophie, the other girl was definitely pretty, but maybe Amy did have the edge. She'd never call herself beautiful, but plenty of others had.

"Doesn't mean you're on the game does it?" the brunette's tone again pierced the lawyer's thoughts, demanding agreement. Amy found her head nodding again. No, of course it doesn't mean that, I'm not a prostitute, she thought. "You could be though you know, Amy, I'm sure you'd be good at anything you tried".

"What? No, no." Amy shook her head, again thrown off-balance by her client. She couldn't believe what Sophie was insinuating.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to offend." Amy felt Sophie's hand stroking down her arm, the feeling lingering long after the touch had finished. She looked up to see Sophie leaning across the table towards her.

"Well, just to help you Amy." What? Amy thought, her head whirling in confusion, I'm supposed to be helping you. "Here's the number plate of the car of that old dear I was talking to. I'm sure he'll confirm what happened. And here's the direct number to Colette's. They'll have my shift times. You don't need anything else do you?"

The young lawyer was sure she should have been asking Sophie some more questions. But right now the only thing Amy wanted to do was get out of that room.

It didn't take much arguing to get bail for Sophie. Amy wasn't sure whether the custody sergeant thought the case against her client would stand up or not. He kept his face professionally neutral. But it was clear he wanted his part in it over as quickly as possible.

"Nice," said Sophie, once they were out on the street. "That was quick. Look, I've got to get going, still have to do the rest of my shift."

"Oh, okay," Amy replied, still unsure why she was letting this woman dominate their conversations.

"If you need anything more from me, you let me know," Sophie instructed. Hang on, thought Amy, trying to struggle through the muddle in her head, shouldn't I be the one telling you that?

"Let's exchange numbers," Sophie suggested. And once they had the pretty brunette disappeared into the evening crowd.

Later that night Amy couldn't get what Sophie had said out of her head. She'd tried reading through the case files she'd brought home. She'd got herself dinner. Even done some cleaning that was usually left for the weekend. "A prostitute?" she asked out loud. Absurd, she said to herself, what a joke. "I've got a career, why would I want to do that?"

"But then I suppose I'm pretty enough" she added, looking in a mirror, one hand running through her hair. A little voice inside her head said, you know men like you, and there's always men willing to pay for sex. The young woman wasn't sure were that thought had come from. Doesn't mean I'd take the money, the larger part of her answered back. And I don't even know what it would be like to be a prostitute.

But you could always find out, the little voice said.

Amy shook her head, cross with the silly internal conversation. She turned on her DVD player and put in one of her favourite films. With that she pushed Sophie out of her head for the weekend.

Come Monday morning Amy had decided that the way Sophie had controlled the conversation between them was due to Friday afternoon exhaustion. She wouldn't be letting that happen again. Amy didn't like things getting the better of her. Her way was always to take control and get on with it. She decided that the best thing to do was to get this case out of the way. And that meant checking the two leads that backed up Sophie's story, the man she had talked to and that she was late for ... work. Amy's mind shied away from calling it a brothel. She gave Natalie the registration number of the car and asked her to follow it up through their police channels. That left the ... brothel. This time Amy made herself think the word. That's the accurate word, she thought to herself, no reason to be scared of it.

Amy retrieved the card Sophie had given her with the number. "That's if there's anyone there at this time of the morning," she mused as she punched the keys on her phone.

"Hello, this is Colette's, let us make your fantasies come true." Wow, thought Amy, where do you get a voice that drips sex like that?

"Uh, hi, my name's Amy Jennings, I'm the lawyer for Sophie Griffiths." Amy spoke quickly, wanting to make it clear as possible she wasn't a potential client. Or anything else.

"Oh yes, hello." It was the same voice, but friendlier, less sensual, as if the speaker had dropped her earlier tone as easily as an actress could change a costume. "Sophie said you'd be calling."

"Great," replied Amy, "I just need to confirm that she was scheduled to start work at 3pm last Friday afternoon."

"Oh, gee, I'm sorry," the speaker sounded genuinely unhappy, but Amy remembered how quickly she'd changed tone earlier in the conversation. "But I'm not allowed to give out that sort of stuff over the phone."

"Look," said Amy, allowing a hint of irritation into her voice, "I'm only trying to help Sophie here."

"I know, but how do I know you're really who you say you are?" the speaker asked "We have to protect the girls, so we don't give out their start and finish times over the phone."

"I need this to help Sophie," Amy insisted.

"Oh, I know, but it's only over the phone I can't do it. If you come in so I can check who you are I can get you signatures and stuff. Wouldn't that be better in court?" the girl, and Amy could only think of her as that, asked.

Amy wanted to say no, but she knew that the girl was right. She would need signed statements to really convince the court. Maybe even be ready to call someone from the brothel as a witness. Amy wasn't looking forward to trying to convince a Magistrate that a receptionist at a brothel, or maybe even whoever ran the place, should be believed over what time one of the pr ... workers was due to start and how punctual she was. But she did know that the more documentation she could dump on the public prosecutor the more chance they might decide it was too hard trying to prove the police constable's suspicions were correct.

God knows the prosecutors have just as big a load as us, Amy reasoned. She knew that making a case go away quickly could be just as appealing to the opposition, when the other choice was a drawn out court appearance that the defence was prepared to fight. A signed statement was what she needed. And if that mean going to Colette's, well, that's what a good lawyer would do.

"Got to go out, won't be long," Amy said over her shoulder to Natalie as she left the office.

Amy was in a taxi, halfway to Colette's, when she started to wonder whether going in the front door was a good idea. Yes she had a valid reason, but she didn't really want to have to explain it. She could just imagine the jokes around the office if any of them found out she had been seen going into a brothel. A quick call back to the number Sophie had given her, and the girl, whose name apparently was Lucy, let her know about the back way in. "It's the one all the girls use," Lucy had said. Amy pushed down the thought that she was going to be entering a brothel the way the prostitutes did.

Looking around after exiting the taxi Amy realised that there wasn't much on the street to show that her destination was a brothel. Nothing about the place made it stand out amongst the other buildings, all full of slightly second-rate offices, that surrounded it. Like its fellows Colette's was five stories and not that wide, although Amy had a feeling that it went quite a way back. It looked like it had been built forty or fifty years ago, but reasonably well maintained. The brothel lacked the signs that labelled the other buildings, announcing their occupants. Its most distinguishing feature was its windows, all blanked out in white as far as Amy could see.