Breach Of Promise

“Save your response for the courtroom,” advised Winston, spooning tomato soup. “He acted the same way with the male lawyer opposite him in the case we did together. It’s just posturing. Anything to knock you off balance.”

“He can’t really believe I did that on purpose. It just happened. The personal stuff-it’s all on his side,” Nina said, disingenuously. She dribbled warm Italian dressing over the white iceberg lettuce and began to eat.

Genevieve started telling Nina what she had done well and what she might work on “just a little.” Nina listened without comment, experiencing a rerun of her resistance to Genevieve’s stage-managing. She had to watch herself. Sometimes she felt ornery enough to do the exact opposite of what Genevieve advised just because Genevieve advised it, even if Genevieve was right.

“You know, there’s research showing that some jurors actually make their final decision based on the opening statements. How did you think they took yours?” Genevieve said. Apparently sticking close to her in-trial, comfort-food diet, having finished her sandwich and Winston’s leftovers, she bit into a chocolate chip cookie, putting her plate on a nearby table and pulling out her notebook.

Nina tried to give her impressions. Clifford Wright had appeared to listen to every word of her opening. Such conscientious observation made her uneasy. Having no rational basis for her feelings didn’t stop her from distrusting him. All of his responses in the voir dire held him up as the ideal juror.

Still she couldn’t help thinking how much he reminded her of a boy she’d known in high school who slicked his hair back and became president of the student council by talking up the virtues of honesty and a drug-free life. Only on Saturday nights did he revert to what he remained at core, a lying pothead. She could only hope any such reversions by Clifford Wright would happen outside of the jury room.

Nina had almost finished her salad when Paul appeared at the head of the table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

“Is there room for one more?” he asked.

“Coming right up,” said Genevieve, scooting over to make room for him.

He sat down beside her, across from Nina. “I caught some of the show this morning. Some nice touches.”

“Thanks,” Nina said, happy to see that he really did look pleased.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for your contribution to our jury selection, Paul. I think you saved us from making at least two fatal mistakes,” said Genevieve.

“You got the jury you wanted?” asked Paul.

“You never get everybody you want. But we got a lot,” said Genevieve.

“We slugged our way there,” the incorrigible Winston said.

“Glad to hear it,” said Paul, sipping his coffee.

“The climber, Diane Miklos, sure acted receptive,” Winston said. “I like that lady.”

“She’s probably got tattoos bigger than So

Jeffrey Riesner shot back into the lunchroom from the hall a changed man, coatless, his fly undone, a terrific bruise starting to purple on his cheek, his hair sopping wet. “Call the police!” he roared at the astonished elderly man at the cash register. “Someone attacked me!”

“You need help, sir?” asked the cashier.

“Look at me! Look at me! Call the police!” He went over to the corner and sat down, pulling out a handkerchief and drying his face.

The cashier spoke rapidly into the phone.

“Have you called yet?” Riesner asked. “What did they say?”

“Yes, sir,” said the cashier. “The bailiff will be right down.”

“Forget the bailiff. Get the police over here. Now!”

Deputy Kimura came ru

“Someone came after me…”

“What did he do?”

“What does it look like? I was attacked! He assaulted me. Isn’t that obvious?” Riesner rubbed his face.

“How’d you get all wet like that?”

“Washing the blood off! How do you think?”

“What did he look like?”

“Big guy, very strong.”

“Where did this happen?”

Riesner cast a furious look at Nina’s group, then pointed at Nina with a shaking finger. “You!” he said. “You’re behind this.”

“Where did it happen, Mr. Riesner?”

“He’s not there anymore. And if you stand here gibbering for one more second he’ll get away!” Riesner shrilled. “Why don’t you go after him?”

“Where did the confrontation take place?” Kimura asked stubbornly. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“In the goddamned toilet downstairs by the Muni Court office!” Riesner said. “And no, I didn’t see his face. Just look for a big… I don’t know. Now, why don’t you just do your job and go get that bastard!”

Kimura ran from the room.

Nina looked at Paul. He, like the rest of them, stared at the dripping, gesticulating lawyer in complete amazement.

Or did he?

What was that in his face, rollicking around the corners of his eyes? Could it be…

Amusement?

17

The next morning before court, Nina met Paul at Heidi’s for breakfast.

“I’m just having juice," said Paul. “Gotta keep that Malibu look.”

“Coffee, poached egg, wheat toast,” said Nina to the waitress, who at six-thirty in the morning looked like she’d been up all night.

“Changed my mind,” added Paul. “Two sides of sausage.” The waitress scurried away on her two-inch-thick-soled white foam shoes. “You talked me into it,” he said with a smile to Nina. “By the way, where were you last night? You got away before I could make a plan to ravish you. And then later, nobody was home, not even Bob.”

“I turned the phone off.”

“Did you now?” he said. “You going to tell me what’s so urgent we have to talk while I’m still half asleep?”

“You know very well. You did something to Jeff Riesner in that bathroom yesterday.”

“I never,” said Paul. “Nobody can prove a thing. How’s he doing?”

“He’s on the rampage. He’s been humiliated in front of me. He’ll never forget that everyone saw him like that. He asked the judge for a one-day continuance, but all he got was a bruise and some shaking up, so Milne said no.”

The waitress brought their food, and sighing deeply, as though it was all too much for her, poured more coffee. “Anything else?” she asked.

“We’re fine,” said Nina.

After she left, Paul said, “Don’t you just hate it when the waitress looks so pooped you want to bundle her off and send her home to bed? I feel like I should jump up to help her.”

“Paul, you’d better tell me what you did.”

He took another bite of sausage. “Mmm. This is what I call sausage. I might just have to have a teeny bit more.”

“You attacked him in the washroom, didn’t you?”

Paul continued eating until every bite was gone.

Nina knew him well enough to know he was deciding what to tell her. She tried to choke down some egg but put her fork down when she realized her seething stomach couldn’t take it. “Jesus, Paul. This is serious.”

Paul drank his coffee. “All right. I was behind the two of you in the cafeteria line. I saw the whole thing. You know, he positioned himself so that you pretty much had to run into him. Why do you let him treat you like that?”

“Believe me, he does it without any encouragement from me,” said Nina. “But Paul, you can’t sink to his level.”

“Oh, but I can. He made my blood boil. I set my tray down. The food didn’t look too good right then, so I took a little walk down the hall to the washroom to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down.”

“Oh, no.”

“It was foreordained. I walked in, and the bastard happened to be standing in one of the stalls, door wide open, back to me, taking a whiz, whistling to himself. Off-key. Just smug as hell, hitting low notes where there should be high ones. The kind of spineless whistling that really grates on me.”