“I relied on Mike. I always have. I always gave him my complete trust.” Her voice sounded surprised, as if only now, in front of the jury that would judge her actions, could she acknowledge that she had been foolish.
“You subsequently established your primary manufacturing facility for exercise equipment here in Tahoe—”
“Yes.”
“And . . .”
“And, yes, my name wasn’t on anything.”
“Then you bought that beautiful house up on Cascade Road. That wonderful mansion,” Winston said sadly. “Who found the house and dealt with the realtor?”
“Mike was busy, so I . . .”
“Who put in the flowerbeds and bought the furniture and oversaw extensive remodeling—”
“That was me.”
“And who lived there for ten years, only to be thrown out of it like a dog because your name wasn’t anywhere to be found on the ownership papers?”
“Oh, stop, please!” Lindy said, tears flowing down her thin cheeks.
Winston had made her cry.
“Court’s adjourned until one-thirty. Mr. Reynolds. Get your—get up here.”
On cross examination after lunch, to no one’s surprise Riesner focused on Exhibit 1. Nina took on the job of making the objections from Lindy’s table. Lindy now sat at her right, Winston and Genevieve on her left. The jury filed in, Mrs. Lim, looking stern in her checkered suit, in the lead.
Riesner was in fine form, with a bright, new silk tie in gold and red, buffed from his nose to his toes. The bruise on his cheek gave him a slightly reckless look. His air of false sympathy for Lindy had the exact impact he must have hoped for, casting doubt upon her sincerity.
Then he got to play with visuals, dreamed up during some midnight meetings to engage those media junkie, Generation X jurors, Nina presumed. Tacking a large piece of blank paper over an easel standing at the front of the room, he took a marker pen. “Agreement,” he said, while he wrote at the top, “between Lindy and Mike. Lindy gets half of everything, including the business. And here’s a space at the bottom for you and Mike to sign. Did you ever give Mike a paper like that to sign?”
“No.”
“Did Mike ever give one to you?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you ever do that?”
“We had our agreement,” she said somewhat plaintively. “A promise between us to live as husband and wife, and share everything. Mike told me that was enough.”
“Isn’t it a fact, Ms. Markov, that the reason you didn’t get him to sign a paper stating that you owned half of anything was that this wasn’t your deal, but that the separate property agreement was?”
“No, it wasn’t because Mike never carried out his part of the agreement. He promised to marry me in exchange for my signing.”
“Ms. Markov, tell me this. The day you signed Exhibit One, if Mike Markov and you went to a justice of the peace that very day, would you have married him?”
“Of course I would have!”
Riesner sailed over to the clerk, flipping a piece of paper toward her and giving it an exhibit number.
“What’s this?” he asked Lindy.
She looked at the certificate, looked back at Riesner, and looked at Nina. “It’s a marriage certificate.”
“Between you and a man named Gilbert Schaefer? Indicating you were married before you met Mike?”
“Yes.” Why did her voice keep getting shakier and shakier? She hadn’t made a secret of the fact that she had been married before.
“And your divorce became final when?”
Lindy didn’t answer. She was looking at Mike again. Her face turned waxen.
“Objection, Your Honor. This is beyond the scope of cross-examination,” said Nina, suddenly scared. “Counsel can’t question the witness about a piece of paper I haven’t seen.”
“This is not beyond the scope, Judge,” Riesner piped up. “She opened this line of questioning when she brought up the issue of marriage. I did overlook showing this to Counsel. My mistake. I apologize.” He walked over and handed Nina the paper with a flourish.
“I’m overruling the objection,” Milne said.
“My divorce became final . . .” Lindy started, then stopped. She looked at Nina again for help, but Nina’s attention was riveted to the piece of paper she held between a rigid thumb and finger.
“Where did you obtain that divorce?” Riesner asked, seeming to let Lindy off the hook.
“In Mexico. Juarez.”
“Now, I’m going to ask you this question again, Ms. Markov, and please give it your careful attention. When did that marriage terminate?”
“Last year,” Lindy said. Some of the jurors did a double take. The audience shifted and murmured.
“What the hell?” Winston whispered, and Nina passed him the divorce decree, dated the previous year.
“Quiet,” Deputy Kimura said sternly to the audience.
“In spite of your frequently stated wish to marry Mr. Markov, you were not free to marry, isn’t that so?” Riesner asked.
“Let me explain! I thought I was divorced the year before I met Mike. I didn’t know there was a problem with my divorce until very recently. Originally, I had flown to Juarez and taken care of it quickly.”
“You flew to Juarez for a quickie divorce without caring whether it was legal and binding in the U.S.?”
“Of course I thought it was legal! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
“That’s just another lie, isn’t it? Where’s this famous Juarez divorce decree?” Riesner knew from Lindy’s deposition that she had lost it years ago. “Well, where is it?” he repeated impatiently, his voice loaded with condemnation.
“I lost it.”
“Lost it?” He strolled around, sighing, practically rolling his eyes. “You’re telling us you obtained an invalid divorce decree, lost the evidence of that, and didn’t know until last year that it was invalid? Come on, Lindy . . .”
“Objection!”
The lawyers wrangled for a few minutes with Milne out of the jury’s hearing, but Nina knew she could do nothing to attenuate the damage done to their case. The jury could not ignore the evidence. Lindy hadn’t been divorced, therefore there could be no marriage to Mike.
“When did you find out you were still married to Gilbert Schaefer?”
“My ex-husband called me a little over a year ago. He said he wanted to remarry, but he thought he ought to get a divorce here. He had checked and found out the first one might not be any good.”
“So any marriage to Mr. Markov would have been bigamous. And invalid.”
“Objection,” said Nina. “Calls for a legal conclusion. It’s argumentative and speculative and—”
“Sustained.”
“So during all those years with Mike Markov, you were still married to another man?” asked Riesner.
“I was married to Mike,” Lindy said firmly, “in every way except City Hall’s.”
The statement sounded moonstruck and flighty under the circumstances.
“Oh, by the way. Did you explain any of this to Mike last year?”
Lindy shook her head dumbly.
“You have to speak up,” Riesner said.
“No. I didn’t want him to know.”
“Why not?”
“Where are we going with this, Your Honor?” Nina said. She marched up to the judge with Riesner. Milne leaned over, careful to whisper, and said, “Jeff. Now, what’s this all about?”
“It’s about her secrets and lies, Judge. Her poor little wife act. Her total trust and reliance on Mr. Markov. Not only that. It’s her whole case. She signed that Separate Property Agreement based on a mutual promise to keep their assets separate. She knew her divorce was no good. A broken promise to marry—phew! Stinks to high heaven, and I just proved that.”
Milne said to Riesner, “Okay. But you’ve gone far enough with this line of questioning. I’m not going to let this last question in.”
“But—”
But nothing. They were dismissed.
As they both swiftly walked the short distance to the counsel tables, past the jury box, Nina suddenly felt a pressure on her shoe. Riesner had stepped on her heel.
Over she went, straight forward, in an ungainly leaping motion. She crashed into the trial table directly in front of an astounded Winston, and clutched at the table for support, but her hands slid off and she banged onto the table legs and hit the ground. A stabbing pain shot down her left ankle.
Deputy Kimura’s hands were there, lifting her up, and Genevieve rushed around the table to help her smooth her skirt.
“Court is adjourned until nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” Milne announced, and the commotion increased. “Are you all right?” Milne said, coming around the dais in his robes. “That was a nasty fall.” The jury filed out, some turning their heads back to see.
Nina tested her weight on her foot. “Nothing seems to be broken,” she managed to say. She wouldn’t let the tears of pain force themselves through her lids, not with that son of a bitch Riesner watching.
“How extremely clumsy of me,” Riesner said. He touched the bruise on his cheek, unobtrusively. “My foot—it just somehow caught the edge of your shoe.”
Nina turned away. “Just get me out of here,” she said to Winston through gritted teeth. He pulled her arm over his shoulder and hauled her to the elevator and out the door through the barrage of cameras. Genevieve trotted behind with the briefcases.
Nina spent the evening with her foot propped up, trying to keep down the swelling, trying to think rationally about what had happened in court just before Riesner tripped her.
For once, Lindy didn’t call, so Nina called Lindy. “I’m killing myself to win this case for you,” she said, the extremity of her discomfort making it easy for her to forgo the usual pleasantries. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you weren’t officially divorced from Gilbert Schaefer until last year?”
“I thought Gil would stay gone and never come back,” Lindy said. “And I thought giving him a hundred thousand would guarantee it.”
“He blackmailed you?” Nina asked.
“Not really. I offered. I gave him some of the money I had saved from all those years of salary, and the severance pay I got when I lost my job . . .” She hesitated. “Then I agreed to pay him more after I won if he’d stay out of the case.”
That explained why a woman who had made a living wage for twenty years and spent not a dime on her support had so little money to offer Nina up front. Nina stifled the urge to hang up on her. “You really believe throwing money at a problem makes it go away, don’t you?” Nina asked.
“That’s not my only method. It’s just the one that usually works best,” said Lindy.
Lindy sure hadn’t thrown money at Nina, who was sliding head over heels into debt. Seething, Nina said good-bye. Bob came in, took one look at her, and set about clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.
She caught him on the arm as he walked by. “Bob, without you . . .”
“C’mon, Mom,” he said, accepting a squeeze and then deftly pulling away. “I want to finish this before my show comes on.” He carried a load to the counter. “Want me to fix up a cold bucket for your foot?”
She didn’t answer. He felt around under a cabinet and emerged with a brown plastic pail. “Remember that time I twisted my ankle playing hockey and you told me it would really help and I said it wouldn’t and you bet me and you won the bet?”
Massaging her foot, she listened and watched as he foraged in the freezer for ice. Without him . . .
Morning came, and court. Pulling panty hose over her swollen ankle hurt, but the rush of getting out the door made her forget it until she was sitting at the table at the front of the courtroom, where it resumed its throbbing.
“Call Harry Anderssen to the stand,” said Winston, giving Nina a tap on the shoulder as he rose, and the jury a benevolent smile.
The show had to go on. Nina could only hope a magician would appear soon to work the magic they needed. While the next witness was sworn in by the clerk, Nina took a moment to study him. Harry Anderssen had been Lindy’s assistant in marketing for three years. He wore a turtleneck under a dark green sports coat that matched his large dark eyes and had brushed his long brown hair straight back. Nina had seen some photographs in which he had modeled. In brochures and videos he usually wore shorts and went bare-chested, the better to show off an unusually well-developed physique.
Winston took him through his background and history with the company.
“You held a fairly responsible position?”
“I would say so. The Markovs, then Rachel and Hector, the vice presidents. I was the next layer down, but I worked directly for Lindy.”
“How would you characterize your former relationship with Ms. Markov?”
“Employer-employee.”
“And how did you perceive her role in the company?”
“Objection,” said Riesner. “Calls for the witness to speculate.”
“Overruled,” said Milne. “Please answer.”
“She and Mike ran the company.”
“Together?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did you observe them working together on a regular basis?”
“Oh, yes. They had desks right next to each other.”
“Did you get the impression that one or the other was more important when it came to making decisions?”
“Objection,” said Riesner, now showing a little carefully calculated anger. “Lack of foundation. Calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”
“Overruled,” said Milne. “He’s asking for the witness’s impressions, not for conclusions of fact.” For once, Nina felt, the rulings were going their way. She had figured out that Milne tended to let in somewhat more than he had to under the strict rules of evidence. This diminished the number of appellate issues and got closer to the truth. For the thousandth time, she sent up a prayer of thanks that Tahoe had such a fine judge.
“You may answer,” Milne told the witness.
“No. I had the impression they were equally important,” said Harry. He looked around the courtroom, smiling. Harry seem to like his smile. He used it whenever he could.
“Who did you think owned the company?”
“I saw it as a family business, owned and operated by the Markovs.”
“Putting aside Mr. Markov, did anyone else have a greater involvement in the running of the business besides Lindy Markov?”
“No.”
“Did you get the impression that Lindy was some kind of assistant to Mr. Markov?”
He laughed slightly, which gave him another opportunity to expose his perfect white teeth. “No. They had plenty of arguments, and Lindy often came out the winner.”
“Did the subject of their marital status ever come up?”
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Markov, that’s who they were. Of course we all assumed they were married.”
“What about ownership of the company? Did you ever examine any of the corporate documents?”
“No. Why would I? I started out as Lindy’s assistant and now I’m just the pinup boy.” He stuck his chin out engagingly, and in the jury box Maribel Grzegorek licked her lips. Rachel smiled at him.
“Who did you believe up to the time that the Markovs separated—who did you believe owned the company?”
“Oh, the two of them together.” He cast a glance at Mike. “We kidded around at work, called them Mom and Pop. That’s what it was like, a family thing, the corner store, a mom and pop operation.”
“Mom and Pop,” Winston repeated. It made an excellent variation on their mantra.
In her chair beside Nina, Lindy stirred. “He’s got a nasty streak. Mike’s not going to like this,” she whispered to Nina.
“He’s saying exactly what we need him to say, Lindy.”
“And in conversations with clients, did you you frequently refer to Lindy Mark
ov as an owner?” Winston continued.
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Markov ever do anything or say anything to give you the impression that he owned and ran the company entirely on his own?”
“No. He always said ’we.’ We’re going to introduce a new product line. We want to open a Solo Spas outlet in London. Which is not to say they didn’t have different areas of responsibility in the company. Mike’s orientation is the hands-on side. Lindy is the planner.”
Riesner moved in fast.
“You know your testimony will help Ms. Markov, don’t you, Mr. Anderssen?” he said.
“The chips must fall where they may.” Another fabulous smile. Nina thought, he’s going to be a star tomorrow, after the news pictures get taken today.
“Speaking of chips falling, you’ve got a big one on your shoulder, don’t you?”
“Sorry?”
“You don’t want Mr. Markov to win, do you?”
“I feel obligated to tell the truth even though Mike was my employer,” he said.
“And the man who’s about to marry the woman you love—how about that for a little problem?” said Riesner. He didn’t turn to look back at Mike, and Nina knew why. Mike’s turn to receive an unpleasant surprise from his own lawyer had come. Mike’s eyes burned, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Clearly, in spite of the public scene between him and Harry, he had told Riesner not to use this information because of the embarrassment it would cause both him and Rachel. But Riesner hadn’t been able to resist this easy method of showing bias. Nina could practically hear the buzz of the reporters’ busy little brains in the back rows, planning how to report this fine whiff of sex.
“I don’t know how you mean,” Harry said.
“Sure you do, Harry. You and Ms. Pembroke, Mr. Markov’s fiancée, were lovers until about six months ago. Now that’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But—”
“You still care for her.”
“I don’t deny that. But—”
“You wish she were marrying you, don’t you?”
“Whatever,” Harry said, and for the first time, his green eyes flashed with anger. “She made the smart choice. I don’t really hold it against her. She went for the money.”
BREACH OF PROMISE Page 23
