“You’re braver than me,” Paul said. “Would you be the first woman to make it up all seven?”
“No. Junko Tabei first did it in 1991.”
“How did you get into climbing?”
“A friend introduced me,” she said briefly. Then, as if she couldn’t resist, she added, “I used to be a professor of political science.”
“I know that. From the jury questionnaire. I figured you must have a social conscience, and that’s why you decided to serve rather than find some excuse to get out of it.”
She got up with a swift, lithe movement, turned to some items in the corner, and began sorting through them, her back to him. “Put this down in your report, if you want. I’ll never do it again. I’ve never seen such a bunch of goons.”
“Yeah, I’ve already heard a few stories.”
“You mean the scream? I was driven to that. But they were so irrational most of them, so taken in by that wolf in sheep’s clothing, Cliff Wright. I finally blew my stack. I hope the verdict stands up. Tell Mrs. Markov it was a near thing.”
Paul nodded his head, saying, “I heard about that, too. What do you think saved the day for us?”
Diane turned around and put her hands on her hips. “As you have no doubt also heard, we had Rasputin running the jury. He had them all hypnotized, all except Courtney and Mrs. Lim, and Sonny. I felt truly sorry for our system. And then Rasputin was gone and the alternate came in, and sanity was restored.”
“Are you talking about Cliff Wright? Incredible, him getting sick.”
“At such a pivotal moment, too. And I read it was peanut oil in his food. I wonder if it really was the restaurant, or if somebody didn’t just put a few drops on his egg roll.” A surprisingly direct person, she certainly wasn’t stupid, either.
“Why, who would do a thing like that?” Paul asked.
“Wish I’d thought of it. Mrs. Lim was seething, but she didn’t show it. Maybe she took him out. If so, I’ll testify in her defense. There were mitigating factors.”
She seemed quite matter-of-fact about these events. Sitting back down on the floor, she pulled her legs up into a full lotus. Her gray Ragg socks reminded Paul of his own half-forgotten days in the mountains. Noticing him watching, she said, “Suppleness is almost as important as strength.”
“You seem to have it all.” She really did. A woman like this didn’t worry about making a living, working night and day. Her job was to live. She had even found the right man for her, a fellow traveler. Sure, she was selfish, but she wouldn’t waste the best years of her life on clients that took and took and never paid on time. “But I’ll tell you what I think is the most important quality for a climber. It’s the ability to go one step further than anyone else would think possible. To do what has to be done in extreme conditions. To let nothing stop you. Do you think you have that ability?”
Diane smiled. “Definitely.”
Paul said, “Speaking of extreme conditions, it was getting pretty extreme there in the jury room. Cliff Wright was doing his number on everyone, and you seem to have been the only one capable of stopping him.”
“I’d already lost,” Diane, said, watching him. “There was nothing more I could do. We were about to vote.”
“And then, poof! Cliff was gone and in came the alternate with a fresh perspective, as you said.”
“Just in the nick of time.”
“You were out in the hall just before the food came in, weren’t you?”
“I think I know what you’re getting at.”
“You were standing there, and—”
Diane said, “You want me to come right out and say it? Is that what you want?”
“Please,” said Paul, his pulse racing.
“Okay. I’ll be brutally honest. Tell Mrs. Markov she doesn’t have to worry about me. I didn’t see her and I couldn’t testify against her. She must have done it right before I came out. Tell her—like you said, Paul. Tell her I understand it was extreme circumstances.
“Now, Paul, you tell me something. I promise I will keep it completely secret. I give you my word. I’ve been thinking this over and there’s just the one thing I don’t understand. How in the hell did she know what was going on in the jury room?”
Paul shook his head.
“Was it Courtney? Did she buy her off?”
“I don’t know that it was Mrs. Markov,” Paul said, finally finding his voice.
“Who else would care enough to do that to Wright?” Diane said. “I mean, come on.”
“But like you said, she’d have no way of knowing how much trouble her case was in.”
“It sure was a strange coincidence, then.”
“You knew, you cared, and you were outside.”
She laughed again. “I have better things to do with my life. I wouldn’t really hurt somebody to win. Even in extreme conditions. How old are you, Paul?”
“Me? Forty. And a half.”
“I was the same age, forty, when I started climbing, and these have been the best years of my life. I wouldn’t jeopardize that, even for Lindy Markov’s millions.”
“I admire what you’re doing. It’s the sort of thing most people don’t even dare dream about.” He thought for a minute and said, “What do you think? Did somebody kill him?”
“No,” Diane said. “It’s going to be the restaurant. It’s going to be the prosaic explanation.” But she stopped him at the door, saying, “What do you think? Really.”
“I thought it was you, Diane,” Paul said.
He stopped briefly at the courthouse for a chat with Deputy Kimura, who assured him that no one except court personnel were allowed into the private hallway. And then admitted that yes, there were exceptions here and there.
Almost everyone remotely connected with the case seemed to have passed through at some point, including Lindy’s friend, Alice, but Kimura did not recall seeing her or Lindy there on the day Wright died. “I watch for outsiders,” he had said. “I didn’t see anyone that day who didn’t belong.”
Alice looked at him through a peephole in the door. “Yes?” she said.
“I’m here to see Lindy Markov,” Paul said.
“Really.” She opened the door. In leopard-skin tights, a long yellow jersey, gold sandals, and disheveled blond hair, she had a gloss of perspiration on her brow that she wiped away with a kerchief. He recognized her from Mike’s birthday party.
She looked him over. “She’s just full of surprises these days.” She was out of breath. She must have been exercising. He heard music playing in the background, but it didn’t sound like exercise music.
“I work with Nina Reilly,” Paul said. “Paul Van Wagoner.” Lucky to run into Alice. She had reasons for wanting Lindy to win.
“Alice Boyd.” She shook his hand briefly. “I’m sorry but Lindy isn’t here at the moment. Mind telling me what this is about?”
“Just winding up loose ends.” Actually, he found himself listening to the sultry singer in the background, the way she stretched out a syllable over several notes in the scratchy recording. He recognized the song as one from the forties, “My Old Flame.” Give Alice one credit for good taste in music.
“Everything’s okay, isn’t it? I mean, she’s going to get her money, isn’t she?”
“Well . . .” Paul said, focusing once more on Alice, interested in her concern. “You know how it is when it comes to this much money.”
“Shit. He’s appealing isn’t he?”
“He stands to lose a lot if he doesn’t.”
“I knew it. That bastard. He’ll drag this thing out until we . . . Lindy’s ruined! What’s her lawyer want? More money? Because, sweetie, until we get a big check out of Markov Enterprises, there is no money.” She must have heard herself ranting, because she stopped.
“I really need to talk to her for a couple of minutes.”
“Ah,” she said. Light seemed to dawn. “You just have some paperwork for her to sign or something like that? And this is not spec
ifically about an appeal?” She tried to read his face. “Help me out here. Has he appealed?”
“Not that I know of.”
She laughed with relief. “Jesus, you had me going there. I mean, she is my dearest friend. And she really needs that money.”
And sweetie, she’s not the only one, Paul thought. “Any idea where to find her?”
“She doesn’t like me giving out her whereabouts.”
He sighed and turned toward the door. “Too bad. Ms. Reilly’s going to be disappointed. This will cause a delay.”
“But you’re from her lawyer, right? So I can tell you,” Alice said. “She left right after the verdict. Headed for her shanty out there in the boondocks in the Carson Range outside of Reno.”
“By the way, Ms. Boyd. If you don’t mind my asking, where were you when Clifford Wright died?”
Alice pulled a handkerchief out and wiped moisture off her face. “While we waited for the verdict, I worked at the shop. We do a lot of impromptu weddings. It’s one of the ironies of my life that I spend most of my day putting together bouquets and corsages for weddings. My assistant will confirm that I was there that morning, until we got called in for a verdict in the afternoon. Why do you ask?”
“Ever been in the hallway outside the jury room? Where the clerks’ offices are?”
“Why, yes,” she said.
“Mind if I ask if there’s another reason you care so much if Lindy Markov gets her money?”
“She supported me for years,” said Alice simply. “That’s God’s truth. I’d do anything for her, and I’m not the only one. Mind telling me what this is all about?”
“Some of the circumstances to do with Clifford Wright’s death are in question.”
“You mean . . . someone hurt him intentionally?” The thought agitated her. “Goddamn it! I see what’s going on here. This is some plan to get the verdict changed, isn’t it? This is Mike’s doing. He’ll do anything to win! I knew it!”
He left her to her tantrum.
By the time Paul reached Lindy’s trailer, his van had been complaining for twenty miles.
Lindy must have heard it, too, because she stood in front with her arms folded, apparently awaiting his arrival, in a square of yellow light from her doorway that made the only illumination for miles.
“Brrr,” he said getting out, stepping directly into a puddle.
A low, foggy dusk had spread around the mountains like a silver belt. Lindy wore jeans and a thick ski sweater but he could see that she was shivering. “Come inside,” she said, motioning him in.
She poured him a cup of coffee she already had made, then sat down across from him at a fold-down table. “What are you doing here, Paul? Is everything okay? I talked to Nina this afternoon and she didn’t mention you were coming.”
She would be his hardest interview. He couldn’t think of any reason to have come other than the one that had brought him. “Some questions have come up.”
“What questions?”
“You may not realize it, but the police have not closed the book on Cliff Wright’s death.”
She drummed nicely manicured fingernails on the table. “I didn’t know that,” she said. “Why haven’t they? I thought he had some kind of allergic reaction. I thought they knew that for sure.”
“That’s true. But what they are trying to find out is exactly what caused the allergic reaction.”
“How will they do that? Someone told me he was allergic to a bunch of things.”
“Who told you?”
“I don’t know. Seems like we were going over the jury members once and someone mentioned it.”
So she knew about the allergies. That was key. “I think they are trying to narrow down the possibilities,” he said. “What they think happened is that someone may have put something in his lunch.”
She looked at him with a face that was perfectly incredulous. “Are they crazy? They think someone made him have an allergy attack?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, that’s just it. Cliff Wright was a real leader of the jury. Did you hear the interviews with your jury after they came out? He was really pushing for Mike, and had most of them coaxed around.”
“So?”
“So, the police seem to think there might be a motive in that.”
She shook her head back and forth. “This is unbelievable. Are you saying they think I might have had something to do with harming this man because I knew he was on Mike’s side?”
“Wright had turned almost the entire jury against you. You would have lost everything. So you see, you had good reason to worry about what this man was doing to your jury.”
“But Paul . . . how could I know what was going on in the jury room?”
“You know what, Lindy? From everything I’ve heard, you’re a smart woman. You hired Nina because you saw she’d kill herself to represent you. You built a huge business out of nothing with Mike. You know you can buy some people. I think, if you wanted to know what was going on in the jury room, you would figure out a way to find out.”
She stood up. “Get out of here.”
“Who told you about Wright, Lindy? Was it Mrs. Lim? She used the telephone frequently. She could have been calling you with updates on the situation. Did she tell you what a threat he was? And then . . . you passed through that hallway a few times before. Maybe you were passing through that day, worrying about him and then, there it was, his meal, specially marked for a vegetarian. Maybe you never meant to kill him. Maybe you were just angry, and you acted without thinking. Because, Lindy, if you did, it’s only second degree—”
She yanked on his arm. “On your feet. I said go!”
He stood up. She reached past him and threw open the door.
“Or was it Diane?” he went on standing with his two hands wedged firmly on the doorjambs. “She needed big money the most, and she really believed in your cause. I honestly don’t think she would have a problem accepting money in return for helping you out a little. Why she practically admitted she knew you did it—”
She pushed him. He held firm.
“Look, I’ll make a deal with you,” she said angrily. “I’m going to tell you what you want to know, and then you’ll get off of my property. Do we have a deal?”
He nodded.
“I did not bribe a juror.”
“Then how did you know about Wright?”
She struck him on the shoulder. “What kind of a person are you?” she cried as he made no move to leave. “Don’t you know most people don’t have murder on the brain and wouldn’t consider such a thing for any amount of money? Or have you been so jaded by your work you can’t understand that most people don’t kill?”
“I’m a realist, Lindy. Just like you.”
And then, in the swing of her arm, a gun found its way into her hand. It must have come from the cookie jar on the counter. Pointing it at him she said, “If that’s the case, maybe this will help you understand that I mean it when I tell you to get the hell out of here.”
Staggered as always at the inconsistencies and idiosyncrasies of human behavior, Paul stepped outside, backing away from her until she closed the door in his face.
33
Nina allowed herself a long walk with Hitchcock on Friday morning before getting into her work clothes. They found a field of buttercups for him to romp in, and rainbows in the dew on the bright-yellow blossoms of the Sierra Wallflower. She took in the heady smell of them, as rich and thick as something tropical, and went back home feeling forlorn. Today, Winston and Genevieve would be moving out of their offices. They would all three go their separate ways. And like the last day of school when she was very young, the day already had a bittersweet flavor.
By the time she arrived at the office, a yellow truck with a ramp stood parked on the street near the front door of the building. Wish and a friend were tipping Genevieve’s desk onto a dolly.
“Have you got a pad or something
to protect that?” asked Nina. “The rental place will charge me for every scratch.”
“Sure, we do, Ms. Reilly,” said Wish. He raised a hand to wave at her, lost his balance, and dropped the handle of the dolly. His friend yelped, but held on to the desk with both arms. Leaping back into his place, Wish bumped him, floundered, and caught himself again. “I’ll just go get it.”
“Never mind,” said Nina hastily, scurrying into the building, unwilling to set off any further chains of events. She didn’t get far. The hallway was in shambles. Boxes of files and trash bags narrowed the aisle to allow only one person to pass at a time.
“Incredible how much accumulates during the course of a trial,” she said to Sandy as she entered the reception area.
“Some of the files we need to keep here, others can be stored in our storage area.”
“What storage area?”
“The one we just rented,” said Sandy. “You’re starting to pile up dead files. Until we rent more space, we need to be able to move around.”
“Sandy . . .”
“What?”
“Is . . . I mean. You seem . . .”
“What.”
“Kind of down.”
Sandy lifted her shoulders and began typing from a yellow legal pad.
Nina found Winston squatting on the floor in his sweats, in front of a tower of files in his office. “I think I’ve got this thing licked,” he said. “This pile here is stuff I take. This one,” he patted a stack, “is to stow somewhere. This is garbage. Where are the trash bags?”
“Sorry, I have no idea,” said Nina.
“Wish!” he hollered.
Genevieve, who had already packed, stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall watching him. “Winston, at this rate you’re never going to finish. Didn’t you have some kind of appointment this afternoon?”
“Trial over. Good-bye and good riddance?” he said.
“Of course not,” Genevieve said. “Just don’t drag it out. Packing’s a real pain, but I know how you feel. It’s like when you’re going to catch a plane. You fear you’re gonna end up at the counter without your passport.”
BREACH OF PROMISE Page 36
