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

4

Fifteen days later, Nina stood up as Judge Curtis E. Milne of the Superior Court of El Dorado County materialized from the wall behind his dais. Or so it appeared. Actually, a nondescript, burlap-textured partition extended out in front of his personal back door to the courtroom, and he merely came out and sat down behind his tall desk, but the effect was that of a magical manifestation. A Baraka chief from the Congo would have appreciated this encouragement of superstitious respect.

Unfortunately, many California judges these days got no respect from the office they held-they had to put up with lawyers who no longer bothered to control their tantrums and defendants who dissed them to their faces.

Judge Milne, an ex-district attorney with fifteen years on the bench, was an exception. His bailiff, Deputy Kimura, had toured the courtroom, meticulously collecting bubble gum and newspaper litter before Milne came in. Any disturbance or other breach of protocol while Milne’s court was in session meant expulsion or worse. “The Judge,” as he was called by the little community of Tahoe lawyers who appeared before him on a regular basis, was actually a small, balding senior citizen, but in Nina’s mind he stood ten feet tall in his black robes and his voice erupted like a volcano.

When the judge came in the courtroom fell silent except for the interminable noise of the ventilation system, and all rose. Although the Order to Show Cause had been taken off the morning Law and Motion calendar and had been specially scheduled for two o’clock, the place was packed with reporters and other community members. Photographers lounged in the public hallway outside the courtroom, and several TV vans waited outside the courthouse. The Markovs were private people, but they were monstrously rich. Everyone wanted to watch the action in this particular family feud.

At the plaintiff’s counsel table, Jeffrey Riesner stood in a thousand-dollar suit with Mike Markov, while Nina had taken her place at the other table with Lindy at her side.

Nina had spent several days after her conversation with Lindy trying to get Riesner on the phone, to set up the meeting Lindy had requested. All she got was Riesner’s secretary, who was so sorry, but Mr. Riesner was unavailable.

Markov, barely contained by a charcoal suit stretched tight across the upper arms, hadn’t even acknowledged Lindy when she came in. Dressed in a simple burnt-sienna-colored suit over a soft beige blouse, she had tried to talk to him but Riesner had taken his arm and led him firmly to his chair.

It was just as well. Markov had brewed to a boil; his clenched jaw and bulging eyes made that clear. He had been served with Lindy’s responsive papers just a few days before. Obviously, he hadn’t liked what he had read.

Rachel Pembroke sat in the front row of the audience seats, close enough to Markov to whisper back and forth with him. Her legs in an extremely short skirt were crossed in that very uncomfortable way that makes legs look their best, and she was enjoying the attention of the reporters who took up most of the other seats. A long-haired man nearby had riveted his eyes on Rachel’s face.

“That’s Harry Anderssen,” Lindy told Nina in a low voice, “the model for our new ad campaign. Rachel’s old boyfriend.”

Nina recognized him as the man on the boat who had called out to Rachel when she went overboard during Mike Markov’s party. His hair was shorter and darker than the supermodel Fabio’s, but there the differences pretty much ended.

The judge took his seat with a flourish of his robe. As everyone sat down, Nina noticed her hands were trembling; from the extra cup of coffee at lunch, she told herself. Next to her, Lindy stared straight ahead, her posture proud, her hands folded tightly on the table. Making a show of her support in the first row behind Nina’s table, Lindy’s friend Alice, the one Nina had seen on the boat, turned her thumbs up at them, flashing a smile. Nina stole a look at Riesner. Instantly his eyes swerved to hers, as if programmed to respond to the mildest contact.

He smiled a smile both malicious and somehow smutty. It always made her feel that he had some kind of sexually sadistic feeling for her; that he would enjoy degrading her. At least he couldn’t stare through the counsel table at her body right now. “Ugh,” she murmured, dragging her eyes back toward Milne.

“Markov versus Markov,” Judge Milne said, looking down through his half-glasses at the file on his desk. “Appearances?”

“Jeffrey Riesner of Caplan, Stamp, amp; Riesner representing Petitioner Mikhail Markov, Your Honor,” Riesner said, jumping to his feet. The weighty firm name contributed to the desired illusion that he and his client had an army behind them.

“Nina Reilly, Law Offices of Nina Reilly, representing Mrs. Lindy Markov, the respondent and cross-complainant,” Nina said, rising. She had two offices if you included Sandy’s.

“Well, let me see what we have here in this blizzard of pleadings,” Milne said. “As I understand it, Mr. Markov has filed an action to eject Mrs. Markov from a residence located at Thirteen Cascade Road. He says she is merely a guest and invitee in his home, or at most a tenant at will, and he says she has threatened him. Am I right so far, Mr. Riesner?”

“That’s correct, Your Honor. Let me clarify an important point at the outset. This lady who calls herself Mrs. Markov is not now and never has been the wife of my client-”

“In a moment, Counselor. Now, Ms. Reilly. You have filed on behalf of your client a Response to the eviction proceeding, alleging that your client cannot be evicted because she is part owner of the premises. You have filed a rather detailed declaration by your client in support of that contention. I understand that. It also appears that you have filed a cross-complaint in the eviction proceeding which has caused the whole proceeding to be kicked upstairs to the Superior Court.”

“That’s right, Your Honor. If I may-”

“Now, this cross-complaint rather widens the scope of the issues, if I am reading it correctly. Your client appears to be suing Mr. Markov for wrongful termination, fraud, breach of fiduciary duty, constructive trust, breach of contract, intentional infliction of emotional distress, quantum meruit, suit to quiet title, partition for an accounting and appointment of a receiver, declaratory relief… is that it? Have I stated all the causes of action?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Of course, the cross-complaint may be amended to add additional causes of action later.”

“I would have thought we had plenty,” Milne said to a ripple of laughter. He treated the audience to a throat-clearing that continued long and loudly enough to silence them, then said, “I note you allege that the sum of approximately two hundred fifty million dollars is in issue.” That instantly curbed the chuckles. All activity in the courtroom momentarily ceased.

Nina let the deferential hush linger for a moment, then spoke. “Markov Enterprises has a current value somewhere in that realm,” Nina said, keeping her voice steady. “Our primary contention is that Mrs. Markov is a half owner of all assets the couple has acquired during a twenty-year relationship, including various real property and the assets of Markov Enterprises.”

“So it’s only about a hundred twenty-five million dollars we’re talking about?”

“That’s the approximate figure, subject to proof.”

“That’s a lot of money, Counselor.”

“No shit,” Mike Markov said audibly from the other counsel table. Milne looked over, and Riesner shushed him.

“If I may, Your Honor,” Riesner said.

“Go ahead, Mr. Riesner. Please explain what we can accomplish in the half hour available today.”

“It’s simple,” Riesner said. “I urge the Court not to let the filing of this massive and quite frivolous cross-complaint cause any confusion. What my client needs today is a temporary order of the court, pending any final judgments or orders, that Ms. Markov must leave the residence forthwith. Both of them can’t live there anymore, Your Honor, that’s clear from our supporting papers, and the house belongs to Mr. Markov.

“Our only other request is that the Court order Ms. Markov to stay a reasonable distance from Mr. Markov and from her former workplace, and that she refrain from contacting Mr. Markov. There’s nothing special about this situation, Your Honor. A relationship ends, and one of the people can’t let go. That’s all it is.”

“Ms. Reilly? Do you agree? Are these the issues before the Court today?”

“I agree that some temporary orders are all that’s needed at the moment, Your Honor. But those aren’t the orders the Court should issue. Mrs. Markov is requesting that she be given sole possession of the parties’ residence pending further order of the Court. Also-”

“Let’s talk about the house, then. Mr. Riesner?”

Riesner charged into his argument. He granted that it was a long relationship, but all good things must end. Ms. Markov had stubbornly refused to leave the house, and it belonged to Mr. Markov. She had never paid rent, so that was not an issue. Mr. Markov needed immediate relief from the Court because much of his businesses was conducted from an office in the house, as well as in the workshop in which he was working on a new product with a tight production deadline.

Milne nodded his head, following along. These strong, objective reasons expressed quite logically the grounds for putting Lindy out on her rear.

Riesner went on. Mr. Markov, out of the goodness of his heart, had been prepared to pay for Ms. Markov to stay in an apartment or hotel room in town for the next six months, but it was obvious Ms. Markov was out to get Mr. Markov, so that offer was no longer feasible. Mr. Markov was willing to allow Ms. Markov forty-eight hours to remove her personal effects, but due to Ms. Markov’s jealous and aggressive state of mind, which had caused her to attack a friend of Mr. Markov’s, and Mr. Markov himself, a supplemental order should be issued forbidding her from, well-to be blunt-trashing the house. A security detail from Markov Enterprises could supervise the packing.

In a glib flurry of catchphrases, Riesner constructed his image of the case. The spurned, unpredictable, jealous girlfriend. The important businessman. The clutching, tearful scenes, followed by threats when she realized he was serious. Sloppy female emotions that had no place in a court of law.

“All right,” Milne said. “Ms. Reilly? I note that your client does not claim to be married to Mr. Markov. Nor do I see any written evidence in the paperwork to indicate she has any ownership interest in the house. Would you please address those points first?”

“Although the parties never took out a marriage certificate, they did consider themselves married, Your Honor. Mrs. Markov has been Mr. Markov’s wife in every sense of the term except the technical legal one for twenty years.”

“But the technical legal one is the one we’re concerned with, isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Nina said. “There is another basis for the claim. Mrs. Markov is half owner of the house because the parties agreed twenty years ago to work together as partners in building Markov Enterprises, and to share the fruit of their labor fifty-fifty. The house was built by the parties together, and Mrs. Markov has lived there just as long as Mr. Markov. She, too, pursues her life and business interests from the house.”

Riesner broke in. “Saying it doesn’t make it so, Your Honor. She hasn’t produced a speck of written evidence that her client had some kind of partnership agreement with Mr. Markov. And, again, I hate to be so blunt, but exactly what business interests does this lady have? Since she no longer works at Markov Enterprises…”

“That remains to be seen,” Nina said.

“Since she’s unemployed at the moment,” Riesner said, raising his voice and drowning her out, “exactly what business interests are we talking about, besides the obvious one of soaking Mr. Markov through the good offices of Counsel here-”

“At least I’m not trying to destroy the woman who helped and supported me and made me what I am,” Nina said loudly.

“Oh, please. Your Honor, are we going to have some sort of emotional outburst now? Is Counsel going to cry until she gets her way?”

Nina held on to the counsel table so tightly that her knuckles hurt, so choked with anger that she couldn’t dislodge a word.

It didn’t matter. Milne had already made up his mind. “Counsel,” he said in an unusually kind voice to Nina, “all I have in front of me in the way of evidence of ownership is a deed to the real property. A deed has to be accorded great weight. It has to be given precedence over mere words. That’s one of the basic tenets of real property law. Clearly, the parties cannot continue to live together. At least until there is a final resolution of the claims you have made in this cross-complaint, one of them must go. The one that stays has to be the one with the deed to the house.

“The Court will grant the petition based on the Order to Show Cause. I’ll also grant the restraining orders to keep the peace in what seems to be a rather volatile situation. Now, let’s move on. What else have we got?”

Without fanfare, Lindy worked a gold band off of her finger and dropped it into her purse. From the table across the way, Mike Markov watched. Nina said, “We’re asking that Mrs. Markov be permitted to continue working at Markov Enterprises pending final resolution of the litigation.”

Milne raised a hand to stop her and said, “I don’t think we need to spend much time arguing that here, Counsel. I’ve read your arguments and I find them unpersuasive. If Mrs. Markov was wrongfully terminated, she will have her remedy at law in due course, up to and including back pay.”

“Actually, she is not an employee, Your Honor. She’s an owner.”

“Mr. Riesner? What do you say to that?”

“It’s just another appeal to sympathy, Your Honor. The stock certificates are right there in your file. She doesn’t own a single share.”

“But we’re contending that is because Mr. Markov has defrauded her, Your Honor!”

“Well. I understand the contention,” Milne said. “Unfortunately, the contention is in dispute. From what I have in front of me today I don’t see a clear probability that your client will prevail on this issue. With regard to Respondent’s request to continue working or to continue receiving her usual salary pendente lite, the request is denied.

“I believe that disposes of the interim matters raised in the Petition, Mr. Riesner. Now, Ms. Reilly. You had requested another set of orders, I believe. Connected with the claim that a partnership exists between the parties. Proceed. Time is running short.”

Riesner offered the judge his familiar sycophantic smile. Markov sat back in his seat observing the proceedings, glancing now and then at Lindy as if to read her true purpose. All Nina had left now was the long shot. She took a moment to compose her mind, acutely aware of the round beacons beaming sickly yellow light into the cavelike room with its panels and green-tinged walls and its shifting, silent crowd of watchers.

“All right,” she said. “The Court has a deed and some stock certificates, and Mrs. Markov doesn’t have much besides her word at this point regarding those issues. But there is another issue that we have become aware of, Your Honor, both urgent and serious.”

“Like hell!” Markov said derisively from the counsel table, and once again Riesner leaned over and said, “Keep quiet!” before Milne could.

“Very urgent,” Nina repeated. “It’s this, Your Honor. Mrs. Markov has learned that Mr. Markov is hiding assets. He’s contracted to sell two warehouses and an apartment in New York in the last week, to a holding company based in Manila, which is so new I couldn’t even get the S.E.C. paperwork on it, Your Honor. By the time a final hearing occurs on all these matters, he’ll have transferred most of the assets of Markov Enterprises overseas at this rate. That’ll be the end of Mrs. Markov’s right to have these matters decided as part of a judicial process.”

Nina went on with her argument. She told Milne that she knew little of these transactions because she knew little about what was going on at Markov Enterprises. They had had no time to investigate what was hidden up Mike Markov’s sleeve. After this hearing, Lindy would have no access to the records of the business, except what Nina could extract bit by bit in the discovery process. That information would be censored and abbreviated. Even if the Court issued a restraining order forbidding Markov from moving assets overseas, the vast sums involved ought to be enough to convince the Court that Lindy Markov had a right to have that money protected until her claims were adjudicated.

Openly anticipating his midafternoon break, Milne’s eyes glanced at the clock on the wall above the jury box. Nina hated losing her audience.

“We therefore ask the Court to appoint a temporary receiver for Markov Enterprises,” she said, making her voice louder than usual, trying to gather back the judge’s attention, “a certified public accountant from the list of names we’ve provided the Court, to make an accounting of the assets and debts of the businesses and to prevent waste of the assets,” Nina said.

“Mr. Riesner?” Milne said.

Riesner just smiled, though Mike Markov looked ready to take Nina on bare-fisted. “Well,” Riesner said with a wave of his hand, as if swatting off a buzzing fly, “I hardly know how to respond. The request is so utterly capricious, so potentially damaging to the companies, so patently designed to bully and bedevil my client…” He knew he had it in the bag, and his voice took on the note of pretentious urbanity that always made Nina want to smash her code book over his head.

Instead she took notes.

Then Mike Markov, who also appeared to think it was in the bag, interrupted his own lawyer. “This is a load of horse crap,” he said over Riesner’s voice.

All eyes turned to him. He was shaking with fury.

Riesner froze midsyllable, and Milne said sharply, “What did you say, sir?”

Rachel Pembroke leaned forward and touched Mike’s arm in a futile gesture to calm him down. When he moved his arm away with a jerk, she pulled back, startled.

“It’s bullshit,” Mike said. “That’s what it is. Lindy doesn’t want my business. She wants to get back at me. I can accept that. But don’t think I don’t know who’s responsible for putting this idea into her head.” He glared at Nina, then turned slightly so that he faced the judge and audience equally. “Here’s how it is. If I want to trade my company to the king of Siam for an elephant, I’ll make the trade. Nobody but nobody else runs my business. I’ll see myself bankrupt before I let that happen. That’s my response.”

Someone in the audience clapped and said “Attaboy.” Riesner leaned down, whispering urgently to Mike.

Milne looked at Mike, looked at the audience. Then he slowly stood up from the bench, leaning forward. Nina had never seen him lose his temper.

“So you’ll do whatever you want with it?” he said to Mike very deliberately, as if intentionally goading him further.

“You’re damn right I will,” Mike said, rising out of his chair.

Riesner pushed him down and this time, though still in the grip of a combative frenzy, Mike finally seemed to comprehend that he had made a grave error.

“I want to apologize for Mr. Markov,” Riesner began, but Milne cut him off.

“You’re going to get that receiver, Mr. Markov,” Milne said. “The receiver will assure that no business assets are sold or transferred until further order of the Court. The receiver will perform an accounting of every dime you take in and pay out. Do you hear that, sir?”

“Your Honor, please-this isn’t fair-we request-” Riesner pleaded desperately.

“Is that clear, Mr. Markov,” Milne asked, without bothering with a question mark.

“Very clear,” Riesner replied.

“So ruled. Court is adjourned until two-forty-five.” Again, the courtroom rose. His robe billowing behind him like a kite tail, Milne disappeared behind his partition.

A dozen conversations burst out. Riesner sat down. He and Mike Markov looked at each other. Nina grabbed Lindy and said, “Not a word until we’re outside.” Lindy nodded. The reporters rushed forward and Deputy Kimura motioned his head toward the door by the jury box that led to a private hall and a way out past the clerk’s office. Nina and Lindy ran for the door, pursued by at least a dozen people, and once they made it through, the deputy closed the door behind them.

They waited in the hallway visiting with the clerks, then jogged out to the parking lot without interference and got into Nina’s Bronco. As they began to drive away, they noticed a commotion on the south side of the lot right near the exit lane.

“What’s all that shouting?” Lindy said. “Oh, no! Look!”

Nina craned her neck and saw cars had stopped exiting. All of the television cameras were pointed at one spot, where two men in suits stood facing each other. “It’s Mike and Harry, Rachel’s ex-boyfriend,” Lindy said.

Mike Markov stood absolutely still in a clearing between trees, while Harry yelled into his face.

“Harry looked mad in court today,” Lindy said, lowering her window. “What a waste. He must still have feelings for Rachel.”

Nina could see Rachel in the crowd that had formed around the two men, looking inconspicuous but engrossed.

“You dumb thug,” Harry said to Mike in a voice loaded with contempt. They could hear each word clearly.

“Harry,” Mike said, “why don’t you shut the fuck up? This is no place to argue.”

“Poor Mike,” Lindy said. “He’ll never understand guys like Harry. To Harry, any camera is an invitation.”

“You and your goddamned money,” Harry said. “You think you’ve got it made. You think you can buy her!”

Mike was silent, although Nina and Lindy could observe the heat of his emotions in the redness of the muscles in his neck.

“How much are you giving her, Mike? A million? More? How much are you promising her to play house with you for one whole year? Does she get a bonus for sticking it out for two? Isn’t that the way rich old farts do it these days with pretty young things? Buy them?”

“You’re making a mistake, Harry.”

“No, you’re making the mistake. Because, Mike, she loves me. Your money’s not going to affect that in the long run. She’ll come back to me after she’s grown up a little and realizes what she’s gotten herself into. But you’ll never get it until she leaves, will you? Because you’re old, and you’re vain, and you’ve had way too many slugs to the brain to see how it really is.”

So fast his arm almost blurred, Mike threw a punch, but before it reached Harry, two uniformed policemen grabbed him. They pulled him back and escorted him away. On the patio in front of the courthouse, they stopped and sat him down on a bench. One took a position in front of him, arms folded, mouth moving. Nina could imagine the lecture he was giving.

“Doesn’t look like they’re going to arrest anyone,” Lindy said with relief.

Another policeman escorted Harry to his bright-yellow car. A few seconds later he flew by Nina and Lindy looking as pretty as the quick, colorful, visual splash of a billboard advertisement.

“What was that all about?” Nina asked.

“Rachel. They were fighting over Rachel. She’s the focus now.”

“Harry’s just lucky Mike didn’t land a punch on that faultless jaw of his,” Nina said.

“That wouldn’t help his modeling career,” Lindy said, rallying.

“Doesn’t he work at Markov Enterprises?”

“Not anymore. He was my assistant in marketing, but Mike fired him recently. I guess he found out about Harry and Rachel, how close they used to be.”

“Didn’t you say he modeled for your new ad campaign?”

“Yes. He didn’t start as a model with us but it’s hard not to notice Harry’s looks. One night a few years back, Mike and I brainstormed a way to cut some corners. We started using posed photos of Harry in all our print media. Well, business really picked up. Other businesses saw him and liked him, too. Now, he’s really in demand. We finished some ads with him for television right before Mike fired him.” Lindy looked in the side mirror. “Let’s go. Oh, boy. Here come the television trucks,” she said.

“Hold on.” Nina pulled into the street and took off down Al Tahoe, watching the rear window. They zigzagged through the shopping center and out another entrance.

“A stimulating day,” Lindy said.

“Yes. More than usually dramatic, even in court,” said Nina, noting with satisfaction that no one seemed to be following them. Her mind slipped back to the earlier events of the day. Markov and Milne had both lost it. And if she hadn’t been thinking about sloppy emotions, she might not have focused in on the anger that had circled like a storm in there, and now that she came to think about it, always did orbit the courtroom. But nobody considered anger sloppy, because anger was so very masculine.

“They do get emotional,” said Lindy, “don’t they?”

Nina laughed. For the next few blocks, they listened to the radio, while Nina ruminated and Lindy leaned tiredly back against her seat.

“Nobody won in there today,” she said, breaking the silence. “I lost my home, and he’s losing control of the business.”

“That’s true.”

“Seeing Mike blow up in court shocked me. No wonder he almost broke Harry’s face afterward. He’s like a stranger, with just glimpses of the old Mike peeking through once in a while. A receiver’s going to drive him nuts. He’s very hands-on.”

“Your interests will be protected,” Nina said. “It was the right thing to do.”

“Maybe legally. But suddenly, this is not about Mike and Lindy anymore,” she said sadly. “It all comes down to money.”

Nina didn’t have a response, so she concentrated on her driving.

“Nina?” said Lindy.

“Yes?”

“Do I really only have two days to move out?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then, will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Stop by tomorrow. There’s something I’d like to show you.”