Breach Of Promise

Winston leaned over to Nina. “You hear that?” he muttered. “The jury’s got it all figured out now.”

“Sustained. The jury will disregard the last two statements from the witness and they will be stricken from the record. Order!” Milne’s gavel came down and the noise subsided.

Nina watched Mike, who had half risen. Rebecca was talking fast to him, her head close to his. While Nina couldn’t catch any words, she caught the soothing tone. Rebecca was trying to keep Mike from compounding the mistake Riesner had made.

And whatever she said worked. Mike fell heavily back into his seat. Riesner wiped his brow with his silk handkerchief and spent considerable time leading Harry through more i

Nina almost felt sorry for Riesner, who had made a fool out of his client and seen his effort backfire. It almost made up for the day before, but not quite.

19

Bob woke up with a fever Friday morning. Andrea had to work. Matt had to work. Nina had to work. Matt promised to pop in a few times during the day to see how he was doing. That left Nina with the single mom’s alternative: dose him with medicine and prop him in front of the television with a six pack of uncola and crackers, out of Hitchcock’s range. She left him with his head lying over Hitchcock’s back, looking like hell. “Page me in an emergency,” she told him, feeling like an idiot. What kind of a mother would leave a sick child just to go to work?

She would make it up to him when this trial was over.

She arrived at court extremely late. Milne had just called the midmorning break. Fortunately, Winston had jumped into her place. “You owe me,” he whispered, passing the torch the minute she dropped her briefcase on her chair.

“Winston. A word.” Nina caught him by the coat sleeve just as he got up from the counsel table. He followed her into the cubbyhole next to the law library. Nina shut the door. He filled her in on what she had missed in court. In case he had somehow missed it, she filled him in on what was happening out there in the world.

The stories in the papers had begun by trying to state both sides of the Markov case, but then the commentators had gotten hold of it. For the first few days of the trial Lindy was the poster child. A well-known Boston area feminist wrote in her syndicated national column about how the Markov case symbolized the fact that women hadn’t come nearly as far as they thought. Lindy turned down all interview requests, which allowed the media free rein to paint her personality and the story in accordance with the particular slant desired.

But now Riesner had turned up a husband, at least a husband who technically had been her lawfully wedded partner for much longer than Lindy had led everyone to believe. As a result, Lindy had been hastily decommissioned as poster child and Mike had now been tacked up.

But the media was only echoing the change of tone that had transpired in the courtroom. Before Lindy started a freefall in front of the jury, one she wouldn’t survive, Nina and Winston needed to do immediate damage control on Lindy’s image.

“Call Florencia Morales to the stand.”

A fit young Latina woman stood in the witness box, her interpreter beside her, and was sworn in.

“You’re Mike Markov’s housekeeper?” asked Nina. Mrs. Morales listened to the translation and answered. She spoke English fairly well. The translator was just there to make sure the questions were interpreted accurately.

“That’s right,” she said.

“And you’ve been employed for the past seven years at the Markov estate?”

“Yes.”

“Now, Mrs. Morales, as caretaker you must see a lot of things that happen at the Markov house.”

“Yes.”

“How many days a week do you work?”

“I’m there every day. I live there. Most days, I work.”

“So you were there, on March twenty-eighth of last year, when Gilbert Schaefer came to tell Lindy Markov that they were still married?”

“Objection,” Riesner said. “Leading, speculative, irrelevant, lack of foundation-”

“Sustained.”

“On that date about a year ago, did you observe the arrival of a man called Gilbert Schaefer?”

“I opened the door to him. He introduced himself.”

“What happened then?”

“I called upstairs for Lin… Mrs. Markov. She came down.”

“And what was her reaction upon seeing Mr. Schaefer?”

“Hearsay, Your Honor,” said Riesner. “We object.”

“Sustained.”

“Tell us, if you will, only what you observed, nothing that you overheard of any conversation.”

“Okay,” said Mrs. Morales. “She came down the stairs. When she saw him, she turned kind of white, then kind of gray. She wanted to know what he was doing, showing up after such a long time.”

“And why had he come?”

“He said…”

“Same objection,” said Riesner.

“Sustained.”

“He told her why he had come?”

“Yes. He just came right out with it, boom.”

“And can you characterize his mood at the time?”

“He was clowning around like it was all a big joke.”

“What was her reaction when he told her why he had come?”

“She listened. At first she didn’t believe him, but he showed her some papers to prove what he said was true. Then, like she was whacked with an ax, she sat down hard on the couch. She was very surprised at whatever he told her.”

Nina paced quietly around in front of the jury, hands behind her back, head lowered, as if pondering the scene. She was giving everyone plenty of time to get it, that Lindy had been horrified to learn she was not divorced from this man. She looked at the jury. Mrs. Lim took her notes. Kris Schmidt looked twitchy. Cliff Wright was hard to read. “Now on another topic,” said Nina. “Are you aware that Mr. Markov has a niece, age seventeen, who lives in Ely?”

“Yes. I have met her several times.”

“When she comes to the Markov house?”

“That’s right.”

“And when she comes to the Markov house, what does she call Mr. Markov?”

“Uncle Mike.”

“And what about Lindy Markov?”

“Aunt Lindy.”

Following the afternoon break, Nina took over for Winston, who had already begun with Mike Markov. She was attempting to show the jury that Mike had had all the benefits of marriage with Lindy without accepting the legal obligations, but Riesner had prepared his client well. For the last three hours of the day, stoic and impervious to provocation, Markov asserted that Lindy played only a minor role in the business. He alone had invented the Solo Spa. He had never referred to her as his wife in public or private.

Then it was Nina’s turn to play with pictures. She asked for the lights to be dimmed and inserted a video Paul had extracted from someone in the marketing department at Markov Enterprises.

Mike spoke from behind a podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, coworkers and friends. It gives me great pleasure to introduce my companion, my partner, my muse, my wife, Mrs. Lindy Markov!”

The screen went blank.

A sound escaped from beside Genevieve. Nina didn’t turn to look at Lindy, seated there.

“Does this refresh your memory?” she asked Mike Markov.

Before giving the rattled defendant a chance to recover from being shown up as a liar in court, she moved in for a strike, getting him to make the crucial admission that Lindy had said “Now we can get married” when she signed the separate property agreement.

At the end of the day, she canceled Friday night’s di