Sign of the Cross
by Anne Emery
Summary
Be careful what you wish for, his mother used to say. Yet how many times, in his 20 years defending the underclass, has Monty Collins wished for a client who is intelligent, articulate, and tattoo-free? Now he has one, but it’s not long before his mother’s warning comes back to haunt him. Father Brennan Burke was born in Ireland, raised in New York, educated in Rome — he’s equally fluent in Latin and the language of the street. And he is the prime suspect in the killing of a foxy young girl whose body was found carved with a religious sign, a sign that points straight to the priest.
Excerpt
Gargoyles. I hardly notice them anymore. Gargoyles are a part of your life when you’ve spent your entire career in the criminal courts. The creatures you see leering out at you fro the Halifax courthouse on Spring Garden Road are technically known as grotesques, fang-baring faces that were set in stone when the building was constructed in 1863. A plaque on the building describes the “vermiculated” stonework; it looks as if worms tunnelled through it. I’m not surprised.
Thursday, March 1, 1990 was a typical day at the courthouse. I had managed to get my client off unexpectedly at the conclusion of a three-day trial on charges of assault, extortion and uttering threats against his old girlfriend’s new boyfriend. His gratitude lay unspoken between us. He swaggered from the building, trailed by three teenage girls in leggings and stiletto heels.
“Congratulations on the acquittal, Monty!” I turned at the sound of a voice as I was leaving the courthouse and saw our articled clerk coming out behind me. Petite, sharp-faced and keen, Robin Reid wore a lawyerly black suit that looked too big on her. I nodded absently in response. “Though I have to say,” she went on, “I didn’t think much of the judge’s remarks about our client. ‘Well, Mr. Brophy, you’re free to go. The system worked. IfI see you in my courtroom again you may not find the system so benign.’ What kind of attitude is that to take to a man he just declared not guilty?”
“It’s the attitude of a judge who knows I outlawyered the prosecution and knows he’d be overturned on appeal if he convicted my client.”
Robin and I left the courthouse and crossed Spring Garden Road to the city library, where someone had built a snow fort around the statue of Winston Churchill. I was on a hopeless quest for a children’s book with a character named Normie. My wife and I, in the afterglow of a magnificent performance of “Norma” at La Scala, had named our baby Norma after the noble druid at the center of the opera. With sober second thought, neither of us liked the name for anyone under forty. The best we could do was Normie after that. Now seven and wondering why she wasn’t named Megan like everybody else, she had looked askance at my brave assertion that there were lots of Normies in the world. She issued a demand: “Find me a book with somebody named Normie in it. It can be an animal; it can even be a bug. But,” she warned darkly, “it better not be a boy!” I was met with a sympathetic shake of the head yet again at the children’s desk.
As we left the library, Robin returned to the acquittal of our client, Corey Brophy. “But Corey didn’t do it, Monty! You demolished the Crown witnesses on cross-examination; their stories fell apart.”
I looked at her with surprise. “Of course he did it. You haven’t seen the file…”
Reviews
"Compelling legal drama"--MJS, Hour
"[The main character is] solidly built, and we like spending time with him”
"A stunning first novel, a mystery, a thriller and a love story…. well written, exciting and unforgettable”
Author's Biography
Anne Emery is a graduate of Dalhousie Law School. She has worked as a lawyer, legal affairs reporter, and researcher. She lives in Halifax with her husband and daughter.