Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

“Harry Anderssen,” Nina said, nodding. She told him what she had witnessed between Harry and Mike outside of the courthouse the day of the hearing.

“Not a surprise that he’s pissed she’s leaving him for Mike.”

“We already figured he’d be on our side. My God, Paul. You think she’ll go back to him?”

“At the moment, she seems determined to stick it out with Markov. But apparently Harry’s no stranger to violence. Sounds like he restrained himself out there with Mike. Before he took up modeling and cleaned up his image, he was a bodybuilder who specialized in street fights. Maybe Harry’s putting on a show for Rachel, hoping he can tap into the gravy train even after she marries Markov. Was she there to see the argument?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

They spent almost another hour looking through what he had and discussing the list of chores Nina had put together for him.

When they were finally finished, it was past nine. They had drunk all the Cokes and it was snowing again. She needed to get back to Bob, who was alone at home. Paul also looked ready to call it a day. He had begun a tap-tap-tapping with his foot that suddenly sounded very loud.

“What’s the matter, Paul?” She pointed down.

“Huh?” Noticing, he stopped his foot. “It’s just-never mind.”

“No, come on. Tell me.”

“Okay,” he said, reluctantly. “Keep in mind, you asked. Now here we have a woman who has enjoyed the pampered existence for years because of this man’s success with his business. Pools, castles, servants, the whole bit.”

“She had a big hand in the business.”

“Yes, that’s right. And, according to you, she was paid a salary for her work. Now, let’s try to look at this objectively. They lived together without being married, in spite of her frequently expressed interest in marriage, ergo, she had to know he never wanted to marry her. She agreed to the deal.”

That last sentence sounded like an awfully good mantra for Jeff Riesner. Nina hoped he’d never think of it.

“But she claims that he held out marriage as bait several times, most crucially when he forced her to sign that paper,” Nina said.

“So your strategy is going to be that she’s a poor victim of this bully? I mean, this guy is obviously just trying to protect his assets. Maybe he gets a scent of what’s coming, and he wants to reassert the deal they had all along, that they would keep their assets separate. And she signs it. He doesn’t hold a whip on her, he asks her to do it and she does it. He puts it away in a drawer. Because he never intended to marry her, simple as that.”

Paul went on, his face reddening slightly. “Does she run to a lawyer to protest this forcible signing of a contract? No, she does not. Now, years later, she says she’s forgotten all about signing it but that if she did, he must have promised he’d marry her in return. It’s too convenient. If he said that, I’ll eat my shorts.”

“You have no idea what he said. The things that go on between two people are complicated,” Nina said. “How can you begin to know what the dynamics were that night?”

“Okay, let’s go even further back. From the start she knew damn good and well what she was getting in Mike Markov. A person who refused legal ties with her. A man who was very up-front about his feelings.”

Nina shook her head. “What she knew is not the issue. What she anticipated or hoped for isn’t either. The question is, what are her rights under the law? Did they have a contract? Did she agree to forfeit her rights to their business in return for a promise of marriage? These are fine legal points. She operated as his wife for many years, working with him, building up a company, sharing everything with him.”

“Except that for all those years they were together, the bottom line is that they never married. The man put his assets in his own name and she agreed to it.”

“That may be true, but…”

“Lady love, it is so true.”

Nina hadn’t even noticed how angry she was getting, but she knew it now. “I’d better make a note for Genevieve. You’re exactly the guy we don’t want on the jury. A man with two ex-wives and a gripe.”

“Hey, my sweet-faced petunia, my wives never took me to the cleaners.”

“If your prejudices and your professional attitude are clashing too much, let me know so I can hire less-troubled help. Oh, and please. Call me Nina. Even ’boss’ is beginning to sound good.”

“It’s obvious what’s happening here. She can’t have him anymore, so she wants plenty of the next best thing, hard cash,” said Paul with an obstinate look in his eye. “And so do you.”

Nina threw her files into a case and snapped it shut. “I’m damn tired. I’ve had a long day. I’m going home.”

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re not going to let a little disagreement ruin the evening? Come out and have a nightcap.” He tried to catch her by the arm, but she twisted away. “Look, I’m sorry. I had a long drive-”

“Paul,” she said, walking out the door, “quit attacking my motives. I’m an advocate for this woman in a legal case. She has every right to decent, thoughtful representation. She has every right to present her claim in court.”

“Decent and thoughtful, huh?” he said, stomping after her to the front door. He followed her all the way out to the parking lot. “If that’s the way you see yourself, why are you so touchy the instant I disagree with you? Huh? Tell me that. You’re usually so levelheaded.”

She climbed into the Bronco and turned on the headlights and wipers. Snow began to settle on his hair. “Okay, then I’ll tell you why,” he said. “There’s too much money here. It’s twisting you up. It’s coming between us. You’re being a hypocrite, and you’re letting all those dollar bills blow over your eyes and make you blind.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she said. As she drove away, she watched him in her rearview mirror, standing with his hands in his pockets, letting the snow pile onto his shoulders, still as a snowman.

Later, buried in the warm nest of her down comforter, her anger dissipated and her humor returned. Why, I’ll be damned, she thought. She and Paul were no different than the shadow jurors. Their emotional loyalty lay with their own sex, and that was that. She didn’t like the thought that followed, that Genevieve could easily have predicted their argument, right down to Paul’s descent into name-calling there at the end.

“Lots of lawyers have intuitive theories about jury selection,” Genevieve said. She had organized a meeting to discuss the shadow jury’s recommendations. It was late Saturday morning, and after changing the timetable to suit him, even Winston agreed to attend. They had so much to do before May that they had begun keeping long hours at the office. He let everyone know that one thing he would not do was neglect his exercise. Here he was in Tahoe and he intended to enjoy it, get out there and run in the morning even in the dead of winter, and when the weather nicened up, do some boating and swimming.

Beyond the picture window in the office across from Nina’s where Winston and Genevieve had moved in, the winter sun glared off wet new snow. Icicles twinkled on treetops, melting.

Winston smothered a yawn, and looked at his watch. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can we speed things up here? I’ve got a few things to do today.” He wore sweats, and his pet radio, a compact, enigmatic-looking black box the size of a thick wallet, lay on the table in front of him. His hair glistened, still dewy from the shower he had taken after his run.

“As I was saying. Clarence Darrow thought about culture and religions when he looked for friendly jurors. For example, he liked the Irish for the defense, and excused Scandinavians whenever he could. He thought they had altogether too much admiration for the law. The San Francisco attorney Mel Belli had a whole system worked out for himself. He divided people up by their occupations. For the defense, he’d pick a waiter over a salesperson, or a doctor over a secretary.”