"Breach Of Promise" - читать интересную книгу автора (O’Shaughnessy Perri)

12

On a solid gray day in February, almost three months before their trial date, Nina convened the shadow jury of six women and six men in the extra-large conference room down the hall from the offices that she had rented especially for the event. This cross-section of the community would help them to determine who to look for in the jury selection for the real trial.

First went Winston, who launched into the opening statement that he and Nina had spent the past week drafting. This process alone had been valuable for Nina as they honed the enormous collection of facts and legal points in order to make the opening statement work. They wanted pith, or the jury would lose sight of the forest. They wanted to anticipate Riesner’s opening statement. They wanted to awaken sympathy and respect for Lindy.

They had finally decided that Winston would make two points and two points only: that Lindy had an equal part in building and running the business, and that the separate property agreement was invalid because Lindy had given property on the basis or assumption that a marriage would take place.

The witness parade for the shadow jury, which proceeded much more quickly than in a real trial, began midmorning. The mock Lindy and mock Mike performed admirably, trying to give the dry words on paper in front of them some kind of truth without hamming it up.

“It’s goin’ great, isn’t it Nina?” Genevieve asked during the lunch break, as they walked across the street to the deli.

“Mmm,” said Nina, who had watched the morning’s proceeding with a growing mixture of confusion, fascination, and abhorrence. Rehearsals and theater had never been her thing. Why couldn’t they just go for a conscientious jury and let the strength of the facts carry the day? Why all this showbiz?

Because she wanted to win.

Still, in her view, the name “shadow jury” was the closest thing to accurate so far this morning. These witnesses had no substance. The shadow trial bore only a remote resemblance to a real trial. Where was Lindy’s forlorn disappointment? Where was Mike’s anger? Where was the place where all their plans went awry because someone lied or changed his story and the lawyers scrambled madly to regain control of the uncontrollable?

“You’re not buying this yet,” Genevieve observed. “Fine. Just wait until you see my recommendations.”

“Maybe I’m just a little nervous about my performance in the summation this afternoon. I’m going through my usual freak-out at the thought of a trial, even a fake one.”

They found a place at the counter and Genevieve insisted on ordering strangely named rye sandwiches. While Nina looked over her script, Genevieve chatted with the waitress, who agreed to put on a fresh pot of coffee, and the two reminisced about growing up in New Orleans and eating beignet, with Genevieve sounding relaxed and happy.

“Eat.” Genevieve intruded suddenly on Nina’s thoughts, pushing a ruffled-lettuce-rimmed sandwich toward Nina. “You’re going to love this.”

Smoked turkey with pickles and mustard. Nina ate it anyway.

“I almost forgot,” Nina said as they paid and stepped across the street through a frigid breeze. “Lindy Markov wants to meet with you again.”

“Yes, I already heard. She’s been pesterin’ me. Wants to know all about the jury selection process. We’re meeting tonight for dinner. You come, too.”

“Sorry. She’s not an easy client. She gets too involved,” Nina said. “But I can’t make it. I’ve got plans. It’d be better if you don’t talk about specifics, okay, Genevieve?” Meanwhile Nina would be slipping into a bath, a meditation, a moment with Bob, and then over to a meeting with someone she hadn’t seen for far too long.

“You don’t want me to talk about the case with her?”

“I realize it’s probably protected by the attorney-client privilege even if I’m not there. But I don’t want to take a chance. I’ve had trouble with that kind of thing before.”

“You’re in charge.” Genevieve sounded slightly exasperated. It had to be hard for her, Nina thought, with her personality, to consult instead of lead. She had the same confidence in her abilities, the same close involvement in the case as Nina herself, but she wasn’t a lawyer. Genevieve drifted in and out of one of those tangential quasi-legal consultant positions that hadn’t existed a few years ago. Cutting-edge, yes, but not anchored by tradition or much experience, either.

When they reached the conference room door, dozens of curious eyes watched them enter. Genevieve fielded smiles all around. Nina caught a few nods of wary respect.

She needed to smile more, like Genevieve.

After dinner Nina helped Bob set up his school books on the kitchen table. Setting the sound on the disc player strictly to low volume, she drove back to the office to meet Paul. By now she felt beat and wished they had put it off until the next day, but she had promised. And she did want to see him.

A week before, Paul had called her. After rehashing his disappointment that she had not been able to join him in Washington over the holidays, he told her he was on hiatus from his work there while some unexpected construction glitches got resolved, and had tied up some Carmel business, so he could make himself available. He had driven up that afternoon in his van and checked into his second home at Caesar’s to look into Mike Markov’s business and background and locate witnesses who would testify that Mike had presented Lindy publicly and on numerous private occasions as his wife.

Nina had missed him, but didn’t like thinking about that. Did she love him? She asked herself now and then. She had been in love twice, with Bob’s father years ago, a feeling now over and only dimly resonant, and with Jack McIntyre, whom she had married. But five years later she and Jack had decided to call it quits. Her recent divorce from Jack still hurt a lot. She wanted to live quietly with Bob and build her practice here, until all emotional pain floated away down the Truckee River.

On the other hand, she was a young healthy female who got lonely at times. She wanted something, just not that crazy fool emotion that sends the rest of life spinning into outer space. Paul had his faults. He could be an overbearing jerk, actually, but then he could be a strong shoulder to lean on and a buoyant heart when things looked bleak.

The evenings spent in her four-poster bed or in Paul’s various hotel rooms always held the hint of adventure, an unpredictability, a romantic sheen. She imagined he could now see the advantages of their relationship, too. Even though he had his consulting work in Washington, D.C., he was still available to her and didn’t talk much about the future. He had quit pressing her on the point of marriage and settled into this trysting thing rather well, she thought.

In the small library-conference room next to her office, Paul was waiting, drinking a cup of coffee. “Hey, lovely lawyer-woman,” Paul said. He set his cup down and put his arms around her.

“Hi, Paul,” she said, allowing herself to disappear for just a moment into his chest and let his heat surround her. “How have things been in Washington?”

“Almost as cold as they have been up here,” he said, playing with her earring. “It’s been slow. Lots of delays because of the weather.”

“You know what? I’m really happy to see you!” she said.

“Ditto,” Paul said, smiling at her.

“I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“You missed yourself?” she asked.

“Don’t be cute.”

She stepped back from him. “We need to get right down to it tonight.”

“Good idea!” he said. “Let’s entirely dispense with the preliminaries. Where will it be this time, the floor, this big wide chair, or hey, here’s this nice long, comfy table…” He patted it, pushing files over to one side. “A little scratchy. But you’ve got a tough little rear end…”

“Do me a favor.”

“Anything, as long as it involves those delectably painted toes of yours.”

“Can you please disperse that fog of lust you hang around in long enough to tell me what you’ve found out?”

“It’s more entertaining than you think in here.”

“Come on, now.”

He planted a final kiss on her nose and took a chair. Nina sat opposite.

“Oh, before we start, I forgot to ask.” Nina messed with the papers on the table in front of her and tried to keep her tone casual. “Have you made up your mind about the job yet? I mean, it sounds like a great opportunity.” She had spent more than a few long nights pondering the job he had been offered on the East Coast, finally deciding she should encourage him to do what was best for him. That was the right way to care for a good friend like Paul. “You’d probably be a fool to turn it down. You’re in the prime of life, at the height of your profession…”

“Wait a minute. Last time we talked, I’d be selling my soul to take that job.” He sounded more than a little annoyed.

“Well, you would be,” she said lightly. “I’m just trying to say the right thing here, Paul. I don’t want to be selfish and hold you back. On the other hand, I want you to make the decision that is right for you.”

“I see,” he said, looking at her with an expression she could not interpret. “Well, I’m playing it cool. I haven’t said one way or another.”

“You haven’t turned it down?”

“No.”

“I was just wondering,” Nina said.

“I’ll let you know when I decide,” he said.

“Oh, good.”

There was a short pause. Nina looked for something in her briefcase and Paul looked at her. “So how did the pseudo-trial go today?” he asked finally.

“Alarming. Provocative,” Nina said quickly, eager to move on in the conversation. “Not that our substitute Riesner looks or acts anything like Jeff Riesner at all. He’s an attorney friend of mine named Rufus who can talk the same talk, but has an entirely different effect on me. He sounds darned reasonable. I can’t speak for the pseudo-jury.”

Paul grinned. “That dirty rat Riesner. Just your luck to get him on the other side.”

“But who better to represent Mike Markov? In court, he’s pure, scorched-earth aggressiveness. He’s going to have the jury believing they have to strike down this evil, predatory female. ’She can’t let go.’ Something like that will be his pitch. Oh, if it was only someone besides him. Someone decent like Rufus. I win, I take him out to lunch. With Riesner, I win, I watch my back.”

“So who won the case today?”

“Well, you have to understand. First, this shadow trial is a pretty pale rendering of the real thing. It lacked several real elements. Drama. Passion. Tedium. Andrea was Lindy. She laughed a few times in the wrong places, and Winston had a handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket like a fluffy little tail for the longest time that nobody even noticed except the jury. I guarantee that won’t happen at trial.”

“Where was your notoriously clever jury consultant during this kinky event?”

“Quietly running the show from the sidelines. Generating these statistical models she likes so much. I reminded her she promised to protect me from that stuff, so now we skip to the generalizations. Anyway, we started by running through the testimony, at least the way they think the testimony will be presented at this point. As I figured, the stickiest mess was the one relating to that separate property agreement Lindy supposedly signed one fine evening, Rufus’s favorite toy and probably Riesner’s when the real time comes.”

“And?”

“In our first opening and closing arguments, we emphasized the promises made verbally, that unofficial wedding ceremony they went through years ago, the assumptions and expectations of the parties.”

“How’d your jury like that?”

“They didn’t. We lost. We ran through another version, where we stressed Lindy’s role at the company and kept up the attack on the agreement. That one seemed to ring the right bell. Our second approach proved more persuasive. We won, sort of. They awarded her twenty-five percent of the net worth of the stock.”

“Surprised?”

“Not really. I felt all along that Lindy’s work would make or break her case. That’s a visible thing. We can point to real evidence of her contributions, evidence of Mike’s reliance on her, evidence of her regular participation in big business decisions, evidence that directly links her efforts to the success of the corporation.”

Paul nodded.

“After it was all over, before collapsing into a heap, Winston, Genevieve, and I did a quickie analysis and discovered things were exactly as Genevieve had predicted based on her preliminary research, questionnaires, and statistical models. We had a sexual Armageddon on our hands. The men initially sided with Mike, the women with Lindy. Of course, that picture changed as we got into our arguments, and that’s another place Genevieve comes in. She needs some time now to go over the results along with some questionnaires and interviews she’ll be conducting over the next couple of days. Then she’ll write up specific recommendations.”

“So is any of this going to help you win?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Do you believe in this, Nina? Shouldn’t you just put your best case on, and hope the unpredictable crowd somehow fumbles its way to justice? People aren’t cattle. You can’t presume to predict which cereal they’ll choose on a given day.”

“Rice Krispies for Andrea, Raisin Bran for Matt, Lucky Charms for Bob, and Grape Nuts for me, pretty much every day except Sunday. So don’t be so sure, Paul.” Nina found a fresh piece of paper and poised a pen above it. “Now, let’s go over where you are.”

His notes neatly arrayed on the side opposite hers, Paul ran a hand through hair that looked blonder than ever and longer than Nina remembered. He had accumulated an extensive file on Mike Markov, which held a lot of detail about his long friendship with Galka and recent indiscretions with Rachel. He was also working with a woman in the marketing department at Markov Enterprises who thought she remembered a video from a sales show made a few years before that might help them nail Mike in a lie at trial.

“And here’s something you might not know. Rachel is still friendly with her ex-beau Harry Anderssen. Sees him once in a while for dinner, without Markov.”

“The male model?”

“That’s right. She lived with him for years and picked up most of the tab because his income has always been erratic, except during the time he worked at Markov. I’d say their financial involvement goes way back.”

“Harry Anderssen,” Nina said, nodding. She told him what she had witnessed between Harry and Mike outside of the courthouse the day of the hearing.

“Not a surprise that he’s pissed she’s leaving him for Mike.”

“We already figured he’d be on our side. My God, Paul. You think she’ll go back to him?”

“At the moment, she seems determined to stick it out with Markov. But apparently Harry’s no stranger to violence. Sounds like he restrained himself out there with Mike. Before he took up modeling and cleaned up his image, he was a bodybuilder who specialized in street fights. Maybe Harry’s putting on a show for Rachel, hoping he can tap into the gravy train even after she marries Markov. Was she there to see the argument?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

They spent almost another hour looking through what he had and discussing the list of chores Nina had put together for him.

When they were finally finished, it was past nine. They had drunk all the Cokes and it was snowing again. She needed to get back to Bob, who was alone at home. Paul also looked ready to call it a day. He had begun a tap-tap-tapping with his foot that suddenly sounded very loud.

“What’s the matter, Paul?” She pointed down.

“Huh?” Noticing, he stopped his foot. “It’s just-never mind.”

“No, come on. Tell me.”

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly. “Keep in mind, you asked. Now here we have a woman who has enjoyed the pampered existence for years because of this man’s success with his business. Pools, castles, servants, the whole bit.”

“She had a big hand in the business.”

“Yes, that’s right. And, according to you, she was paid a salary for her work. Now, let’s try to look at this objectively. They lived together without being married, in spite of her frequently expressed interest in marriage, ergo, she had to know he never wanted to marry her. She agreed to the deal.”

That last sentence sounded like an awfully good mantra for Jeff Riesner. Nina hoped he’d never think of it.

“But she claims that he held out marriage as bait several times, most crucially when he forced her to sign that paper,” Nina said.

“So your strategy is going to be that she’s a poor victim of this bully? I mean, this guy is obviously just trying to protect his assets. Maybe he gets a scent of what’s coming, and he wants to reassert the deal they had all along, that they would keep their assets separate. And she signs it. He doesn’t hold a whip on her, he asks her to do it and she does it. He puts it away in a drawer. Because he never intended to marry her, simple as that.”

Paul went on, his face reddening slightly. “Does she run to a lawyer to protest this forcible signing of a contract? No, she does not. Now, years later, she says she’s forgotten all about signing it but that if she did, he must have promised he’d marry her in return. It’s too convenient. If he said that, I’ll eat my shorts.”

“You have no idea what he said. The things that go on between two people are complicated,” Nina said. “How can you begin to know what the dynamics were that night?”

“Okay, let’s go even further back. From the start she knew damn good and well what she was getting in Mike Markov. A person who refused legal ties with her. A man who was very up-front about his feelings.”

Nina shook her head. “What she knew is not the issue. What she anticipated or hoped for isn’t either. The question is, what are her rights under the law? Did they have a contract? Did she agree to forfeit her rights to their business in return for a promise of marriage? These are fine legal points. She operated as his wife for many years, working with him, building up a company, sharing everything with him.”

“Except that for all those years they were together, the bottom line is that they never married. The man put his assets in his own name and she agreed to it.”

“That may be true, but…”

“Lady love, it is so true.”

Nina hadn’t even noticed how angry she was getting, but she knew it now. “I’d better make a note for Genevieve. You’re exactly the guy we don’t want on the jury. A man with two ex-wives and a gripe.”

“Hey, my sweet-faced petunia, my wives never took me to the cleaners.”

“If your prejudices and your professional attitude are clashing too much, let me know so I can hire less-troubled help. Oh, and please. Call me Nina. Even ’boss’ is beginning to sound good.”

“It’s obvious what’s happening here. She can’t have him anymore, so she wants plenty of the next best thing, hard cash,” said Paul with an obstinate look in his eye. “And so do you.”

Nina threw her files into a case and snapped it shut. “I’m damn tired. I’ve had a long day. I’m going home.”

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re not going to let a little disagreement ruin the evening? Come out and have a nightcap.” He tried to catch her by the arm, but she twisted away. “Look, I’m sorry. I had a long drive-”

“Paul,” she said, walking out the door, “quit attacking my motives. I’m an advocate for this woman in a legal case. She has every right to decent, thoughtful representation. She has every right to present her claim in court.”

“Decent and thoughtful, huh?” he said, stomping after her to the front door. He followed her all the way out to the parking lot. “If that’s the way you see yourself, why are you so touchy the instant I disagree with you? Huh? Tell me that. You’re usually so levelheaded.”

She climbed into the Bronco and turned on the headlights and wipers. Snow began to settle on his hair. “Okay, then I’ll tell you why,” he said. “There’s too much money here. It’s twisting you up. It’s coming between us. You’re being a hypocrite, and you’re letting all those dollar bills blow over your eyes and make you blind.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said. As she drove away, she watched him in her rearview mirror, standing with his hands in his pockets, letting the snow pile onto his shoulders, still as a snowman.

Later, buried in the warm nest of her down comforter, her anger dissipated and her humor returned. Why, I’ll be damned, she thought. She and Paul were no different than the shadow jurors. Their emotional loyalty lay with their own sex, and that was that. She didn’t like the thought that followed, that Genevieve could easily have predicted their argument, right down to Paul’s descent into name-calling there at the end.