Unfit to Practice

“Yes. There was a tendency.”

“Let’s see that side-by-side slide again. A tendency, you say. Does that have anything to do with something we can observe?”

“Slide 12, please,” Mrs. Gleb said. A giant swooping geometrical design appeared. “That is the terminal s on the final word, this, found in the last sentence,” Mrs. Gleb said. “Note the slight movement upward.”

“It’s slight, all right. In fact, it’s microscopic, this tendency, isn’t it?”

“Most crucial details in this work are only observable under a microscope.”

“Hmm. Your third factor. The breaks between the letters. Looks to me like this so-called forger did put breaks between the letters.”

“Under the microscope I saw faint co

“Show us the slides then.”

“The slides did not pick up these slight lines.”

“Ah! Because they were only tendencies, too?”

“I saw them, but there are limits to photography. There was an almost imperceptible attempt to co

“Which you ca

“I can only testify they were seen by me.”

“And from these imperceptible tendencies, by the way, you adduced quite a lot about our so-called forger. He or she is a logician, a craftsman who will never be a Rembrandt. Unlike Ms. Reilly, who could dazzle the art world?”

“These are my observations.”

“These are your fantasies.”

“Objection!”

“Let’s move on.” Judge Brock obviously didn’t like to rule on things because inaction cut down on points to appeal.

“And now we move on to your fourth and final factor. Put that slide up, please. Okay, we have a little angularity on two of the letters, on the lower loops, right before they start to loop upward.”

“Where the forger wanted to stop.”

“You certainly are deep into the mind of this mythical forger, aren’t-”

“Objection!”

“Move on.”

“I’d like a ruling.”

“Sustained.” That’s more like it, Nina thought. At least a tiny semblance of real law practice endured.

“So the forger wanted to stop? To just make a straight line instead of a lower loop?”

“Correct. That is demonstrated by this stoppage, this angle here, for example.”

Nolan smiled. “It was hard for this speculative person to duplicate the evidence of Ms. Reilly’s huge appetite for life, her sexual vigor?”

“Objection!” Jack roared.

“She’s the one reading palms,” Nolan said.

“Counsel, restrain yourself,” Judge Brock said, his voice as affectless as ever, still attempting to demonstrate that he was a mere shell of a man, a nonpartisan vehicle for justice, in contrast to Nolan, who now openly flaunted the instincts of a starving she-wolf.

“That’s what you testified, isn’t it? The so-called forger is practical and money-oriented, not much of a lover, I take it. He was faking it, right? But according to you no one could ever accuse Ms. Reilly of faking it.”

“Your Honor, Counsel’s sarcasm isn’t getting us anywhere and is squandering the court’s valuable time,” Jack said. Nina bristled at his mildness. In good old Judge Milne’s court back at Lake Tahoe, the bailiff would be carting Nolan off to the tank, high heels kicking, on a contempt citation. Not only was Nolan assassinating Nina’s character, she was indulging in jokes at her expense, trivializing the whole proceeding as unworthy of serious attention. She wanted Nina clapped quickly into the stocks so the outraged townspeople could hurl rotten eggs at her.

“How much of your conclusion is based on court-approved techniques of questioned-documents analysis, versus graphology, Mrs. Gleb?”

“It is all relevant and important.”

“You can’t separate the two?”

“There is no separation. Let me say to you, Madam Attorney, that any examiner who tells you he isn’t using his intuition in the examination isn’t doing his job.”

“Right, intuition. I have nothing further for this witness.”

“You may step down.”

Mrs. Gleb left in a cloud of expensive perfume.

Jack had told Nina he tried out two other examiners before trying Mrs. Gleb, who had seemed so-so unperfumed back then. After examining the document, these alternative experts both admitted the likelihood of forgery, but had refused to stake their reputations on it.

Nina looked at the gigantic, swooping strokes of her handwriting, naked and eager on the screen. She looked down at her legal pad, at the notes she had been taking this morning with their huge lower loops everywhere. She turned the page hastily.

“We will take a final short break. You have one more witness on the Vang matter, is that right?” Judge Brock asked Jack.

“Yes. Mrs. See Vang,” Jack said.

“All right. We’ll take her then.”

Outside in the general waiting area, Mrs. Gleb cornered them before they could escape. “Know one thing,” she said. “I am right in what I say. You must ignore the mean-spirited sarcasm, as I’m sure the judge will do.”

“Thanks for coming, Mrs. Gleb,” Jack said. “We appreciate it.”

“Right is on your side, darlings, and what’s more practical, I’m there, too. Call me if there’s anything more I can do for you. I’m at the Marriott until the weekend.”

26

T HE BREAK ALLOWED just enough time for mutual recriminations.

“Why couldn’t you control her better?” Nina said to Jack as soon as they were on the next floor down and out of earshot. “She had some important points to make that had nothing to do with my voracious sexual appetite! I’m sure she signs her name with giant capitals, the better to express her inflated ego.”

“I talked to her at least three times on the phone. I saw a summary of what she would testify. She never mentioned those lower loops. Sometimes they do get carried away up there on the stand, as you well know.”

“You should have seen it coming. She’s flamboyant. I could see that right away. An expert should be conservative.”

“Hey, we owe her. Remember, we couldn’t get any other expert, and the truth is, she has a fantastic reputation in spite of Nolan’s vivisection, and she didn’t come off as badly as you make out. The forger used the same ink as you, the same paper, and wrote just a few words. There was no signature, and the fact is, nobody else had the guts and confidence to stick his neck out.”

“Graphology,” Nina said. “Sorta like astrology, right? I’m sure Judge Brock is having a private yuk in his chambers right now over that testimony. So how are we doing, Jack? Are we burying me alive? Because that’s how it feels.”

“Put aside your insecurity. Zip that lip and sit tight. We attack this thing point by point. Commit that to memory. Let’s go back in.”

Nina didn’t want to return to court and be a good girl. She was sick of Jack telling her what to do and irritated to trigger-finger sensitivity by her perpetual state of fury. She had abuse heaped up in her throat, backlogged. Jack deserved further tongue-lashing if she was to deliver him the conventional and complete client reflex.

She breathed four deep breaths, her mother’s advice from childhood for fending off tension and anger, and went back into the chamber of horrors, where the formidable Dr. Pell waited at the door.

The former FBI man, with his dark hair and devilish air, bore a remarkable resemblance to the actor Andy Garcia. He kept his testimony earnest, succinct, and, well, Nina had to admit it, fair. To keep the issues straight and so that he could get back to work in Quantico, they had taken him out of order.

Gayle Nolan held the floor. Pell had brought his own set of slides, but he didn’t talk about loops. He testified merely that nobody could tell if the last sentences were forged or not, as the forensic evidence was insufficient and the sample too short for an examination of the phrasing. “There are no smoking guns,” he said. “No misspellings, no obvious variances from the preceding writing.”