Breach Of Promise

“Mr. Wright, my client, Lindy Markov,” Nina said, gesturing toward Lindy. Wright turned his smile on Lindy.

“You’ve lived in Tahoe how long?” Nina began.

“Just a year.”

“And before that?”

“In the suburbs of L.A. Yorba Linda.”

She went on, asking him some neutral questions to give him time to get accustomed to the pricking of many eyes and the reporter tapping out his every word.

“The town you grew up in. It’s in Orange County?”

“Yes.”

“Birthplace of Richard Nixon?”

“Infamous for it.”

“People in other part of the state would probably say Orange County is one of our most conservative counties. Would you agree with that?”

“Yes, it’s conservative.”

“How is it conservative?”

“It’s a place that has probably seen more change in terms of growth in the past three decades, my whole lifetime, than anywhere else in the world. People are struggling to hold on to old-fashioned values, like family and religion. They feel a little under siege, I guess, so they are pretty noisy about it.”

Articulate s. o. b., Genevieve scrawled for Nina to see.

“Would you say you share the conservative attitudes Orange County is famous for?”

“I would have to say that I couldn’t wait to leave.”

“You don’t have old-fashioned values?”

“I got tired of the paranoia, the bigots, and the rigidity. I got tired of the traffic and pollution. I got tired of not being allowed to walk on people’s lawns.”

Nina wasn’t satisfied. He sounded so candid. Too candid. Under the candor and the smile he seemed quite nervous. She veered back into neutral territory. After a few minutes, he had let up his guard only slightly. “Is this your first experience with the criminal justice system?” Nina asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“Nervous? People usually are.”

“ ’Fraid so.” He laughed.

“It’s not an easy place to spend a morning, is it, Mr. Wright? Bet you’d rather be out,” she pretended to consult her notes, “riding your bike up the path near Emerald Bay on a glorious day like this?”

“You bet I would.”

Nina smiled and let the audience have their laugh. The tension in the room lifted enough so that Clifford Wright finally lost the tightness around his mouth.

“Unfortunately, we’re all here doing our duties today,” said Nina. “We’re here to decide some very serious issues. This is a case that some have described as a palimony case. Are you familiar with that term?”

“Sure. Clint Eastwood was sued for palimony, wasn’t he? Also Bob Dylan. Even Martina Navratilova, I think.”

“What did you think about those cases?”

“Well,” he said slowly. “I didn’t follow the details, you understand. But from what I heard, Bob Dylan’s girlfriend lived with him for a long time, even had and raised his kids. She probably ought to get something. The Martina thing, that was iffier.”

“So, as a fair-minded person, you think you could try to look at these things on an individual basis.”

“That’s right,” he said. He gave her a frank open smile. “Mrs. Reilly,” he added.

“Do you understand what a contract is?” Nina asked.

“I think so.”

“How would you define it?”

“An agreement.”

“Do you know that in law, there are different kinds of contracts, both oral and written?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know that, in law, an oral contract has the same validity as a written contract?”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“Do you think they should?”

“As long as you know what the agreement was, I have no problem with that.”

“Would you agree that it’s easier to prove an agreement in writing, Mr. Wright?”

“Well, of course.”

“But not every writing is an agreement, is it?”

“No. Even if it says it’s an agreement, it might not be a-you know-legal agreement. I would guess it has to meet certain standards.”

Nina glanced back at Genevieve, who looked pleased. And at Winston, whose eyes had narrowed. The answer was too good, and he had noticed.

“Any time you have two people, you can have two interpretations of the same situation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You can.”

“From the very little the judge has told you in introducing this case a few days ago, do you have any thoughts as to which of the parties is probably right in this case?”

Wright raised his eyebrows. He looked almost offended. “I would have to listen to the whole story to know that,” he said, shaking his head. “I just don’t know at this point, Mrs. Reilly.”

“Could you find in favor of Mrs. Markov if it is proved beyond a preponderance of the evidence that she and Mr. Markov had an oral contract, an agreement, to share all their assets, regardless of the size of those assets, regardless of the fact that they never put it in writing?”

“Yes.”

Several times during the questioning, Nina could feel Riesner behind her, wishing to object. He didn’t want to sit while she interpreted law to suit her purposes. On the other hand, lawyers tried not to interrupt during voir dire. It usually backfired. He would be taking his turn again soon enough, and she, too, would be resisting the impulse.

She continued to question Clifford Wright for another ten minutes.

You kept him up there a while, commented Genevieve’s note when she finally sat down. Longer than the others.

He’s too earnest, Nina wrote back, watching Riesner begin his round of questioning, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook so that she could take notes on anything that might need follow-up or close scrutiny. Riesner hadn’t quite finished when Judge Milne called for the lunch break, but Nina didn’t need to hear more to know what she thought.

Managing to avoid the reporters, the three of them-Nina, Genevieve, and Winston-walked outside to an area between the two long, low stone buildings where pale sunlight and a breeze awaited. Lindy had walked out to her car. “We’re missing spring again,” said Nina. “Here comes and goes another season while we rot inside.”

“Think of the money we’re saving on sunscreen,” Genevieve said. “You’re quiet today, Winston.”

“Quiet doesn’t mean asleep.”

“How do you like Mr. Wright?”

“I’m still thinking,” Winston said. He wore Vuarnet sunglasses, reminding Nina of another case that had come and gone quickly and dramatically in her life a few months before. Each case seemed to last an eternity, but once it ended, she blinked once and moved on.

“He’s perfect,” said Genevieve, not able to wait any longer to let them know her opinion.

“Too perfect,” said Nina.

“No, really,” said Genevieve.

“He played us like a harp. I felt managed,” said Nina.

“The perfect juror comes our way, and you suspect him because he looks too good?” Genevieve persisted.

“He’s slick.”

“Are you nuts? He comes off great. He comes off honest. And he comes off fair.”

“I don’t care how he comes off. I want him gone,” Nina said, raising her voice slightly, not looking at Genevieve.

“Need I remind you we only have one peremptory left? What about Ignacio Ybarra? He’s a Catholic, very conservative. A disaster. Or So

“I’m inclined to agree with Nina that he’s not showing all his true colors,” Winston said. “But then again, who does? That doesn’t mean he’s not on our side. What does matter is, he seems sincere.”

“You call that sincere? What about when I asked about his wife and his eyes got misty?”

“He’s sensitive,” said Genevieve.