Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

“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 Markov 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.”