better. The air felt decidedly cooler and the indifferent grey of the stone had crept along the interior walls in the form of paint. Green doors, though the colour of baby sick, were a welcome break from the dismal decorating. Aiden was led along countless corridors, his footsteps echoing on the plastic-tiled floors. He was ushered through so many security gates that he began to worry if he was ever going to be able to get back out.
‘Prisoner 929 is in maximum security,’ the burly female guard had told him when he had finally made it to reception, her voice monotonous as if she had forgotten how to express emotion. He was currently being led by another, equally ample female form, down a labyrinth of corridors. His palms were sweaty and his attempts to make small talk had not even been acknowledged. The women who worked there were tough, he supposed that they had to be. But no matter how tough they were, he knew that they would be no match for what lay behind the locked doors which they were now passing by. Aiden had expected hands grasping through railings, voices crying out their innocence, but all was quiet. Those cells he passed where you could see in, the lone occupants were sat, sometimes reading, sometimes just staring space; none so much as fluttered an eyelid as he clomped past.
Finally he was motioned into a small room where one wall was made entirely of Perspex glass. Beyond the glass, there was a lone chair facing him which was flanked by two guards. On Aiden’s side of the glass there was a basic desk and chair.
‘929 will be with you shortly,’ the woman told him. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’
Aiden nodded and thanked her but she was already gone before the words had even left his mouth. He moved the chair and positioned himself opposite the currently vacant chair. Placing his briefcase on the desk he took out a Dictaphone and a notebook. He had no idea what to expect from Prisoner 929.
‘Are you ready?’ one of the guards asked from the other side. Aiden merely nodded in response.
‘Send her in!’ the other guard yelled. Her. It was the first acknowledgment that Brandy White was indeed a woman and not just a number.
Prisoner 929 was ushered into the room. She was wearing a garish orange jumpsuit and her hands were handcuffed. Eyes trained to the floor she obediently followed the guard’s instructions and sat herself down in the chair opposite Aiden. Still she did not look up. She placed her cuffed hands in her lap and he noticed how tiny they were. The thick metal bracelets overwhelmed her small wrists so much so that he wondered if she could easily free herself from her constraints if she so desired. Not that the guards needed to worry if she did come free. When she shuffled in Aiden assessed that she was no more than 5ft 1 and incredibly petite in build. They could easily lift her up with one arm. Her bleach-blonde hair fell in waves upon her shoulders and down her back. She appeared like a fairy child, not a murdering monster. Finally she raised her eyes to meet his and Aiden looked upon his first client in Avalon.
His breath caught in his throat for a moment as he gazed at Brandy White. She was devastatingly beautiful. Her lips were a deep red, plump and permanently pouting, the skin which was exposed on her face and hands was as white and as delicate as the finest china. Her face was a perfect heart shape, with a delicate button nose. But it was her eyes which had captivated Aiden. They were so round and wide in her little head, the colour of autumn leaves, fringed with dark, curled lashes. Her eyes bore into his, questioning, confused.
‘Mrs. White, I am your attorney, my name is Aiden Connelly.’ He noticed her relax at his introduction.
‘How do you do, Mr. Connelly?’ Her voice was soft and melodic, laced in a lazy Southern drawl. ‘I thought you might be a priest.’
‘A priest?’
‘Yes, sir. I asked them if I could see a priest but I haven’t been visited yet.’
‘Why do you want to see a priest?’
Brandy seemed alarmed by his question.
‘Why, Mr.Connelly, I have not been to church in well over a month, it is a matter of urgency that I see a priest, my immortal soul is at stake!’ He wondered if she was joking but he could tell by her anxiety that she was being quite earnest.
‘Well then, I will see if I can set that up for you, Mrs. White.’
‘Please, call me Brandy. It just doesn’t feel right being called Mrs. White.’
‘Very well, Brandy, I am here to represent your case at your upcoming trial. I will need to go over details of the event with you, verify your statement with the one you gave to the police. If you have any questions at all…’
‘Are you from Avalon?’ she interrupted.
‘Yes, I am.’
She furrowed her brow.
‘I do not mean to be rude, Mr. Connelly, but I don’t recall ever seeing you around and Avalon is a mighty small place.’
‘I’m new, moved there less than a week ago.’ He felt uncomfortable that the conversation was moving towards him; it was important to never reveal personal information to clients.
‘Must be different from living in a big city.’
‘City?’ He nervously wondered how she could possibly know where he was from.
‘Relax,’ she smiled, noticing his tense expression. ‘Your suit gave you away. You can’t buy smart suits like that in Avalon, and if you did you would find little occasion to wear them. In all honesty I’m mighty touched that you made such an effort to come and see little old me!’
He searched for the cynicism in her comment, but saw only a warm smile and kind, yet frightened eyes.
‘Well, let us get down to it.’ Aiden leant and retrieved a file from his briefcase and switched on the Dictaphone. ‘Can you please just state your name and age, for the recording?’
‘Brandy White. I’m twenty-four.’
‘Thank you. So on April 6th of this year, you were charged with the murder of your husband, Brandon White.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Records state that you yourself made the distress call to 911 at approximately 11.23pm.’
Brandy nodded. ‘Can you please answer vocally for the recording?’
‘Oh, yes, I made the call.’
‘Did you call because you regretted what had just happened?’
‘Oh no, sir. I waited until he was dead, then called.’
‘So, you admit that you deliberately stabbed your husband,’ he checked his notes, ‘six times in the back and chest?’
‘Yes.’
‘Waiting until he was dead and then called 911?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you say that you were of sound mind when the incident occurred?’
‘Oh yes, for the first time in my life I saw things clearly.’ Aiden found her responses puzzling and was beginning to question the young woman’s sanity. She did not appear to be the least bit remorseful and was quick to admit her guilt. On
