Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

“Mr. Markov, are you telling us that you used no threats to get this woman you had lived with for years to sign away all her rights?” he said late in the afternoon, allowing frustration to enter his voice.

“I never threatened her.”

“She was afraid you would leave her if she didn’t sign, wasn’t she?”

“I don’t remember anything like that.”

“You never said you were going to walk out and she would never see you again if she didn’t sign?”

“No."

“You didn’t say words to the effect that, ’Sign this now, and I promise you, we’ll get married soon’?"

“No, I didn’t."

“Then why draw it up in the first place? If it wasn’t because the two of you were talking about marriage in some way, why?"

“Because I wanted the lines drawn between her and me. Things weren’t going so well between us. But I never said I was leaving."

“Seven years you had been together at that point. Do you think you had to tell her? She could tell it from your frown, from the way you touched her, from your voice, couldn’t she?"

“Objection."

“Sustained."

“Now all this happened thirteen years ago. How much had the business appreciated in value in those thirteen years between the time she signed the agreement and the time you separated, would you say?"

“Objection. Irrelevant.” Rebecca was on duty today.

“Overruled."

Mike shook his head, smiling. “Well, since we were down to a few thousand dollars, I’d say it’s appreciated quite a bit."

“You think she would have signed the agreement if she’d had any idea in thirteen years it would be used to cheat her out of a hundred million-”

“Objection! Argumentative."

“Withdrawn,” said Winston. “Let me put it this way. It’s fair to say, isn’t it, that she thought she was signing away a claim to a few thousand dollars?"

“At that time, yes."

“She continued to live with you on the same basis, and continued to work with you in the business?"

“As I’ve said."

“Why didn’t you give her a copy of the agreement?"

A shrug. “She never asked for one."

“Why didn’t you folks go to an attorney so she would know she was signing away her future?"

“Objection."

“Sustained."

“Why,” Winston asked, his voice rising, “did you never talk with her about it again?"

“It just never came up."

“You knew she thought it had been thrown out long ago, didn’t you?"

“Not at all."

“You knew she depended on you, relied on you, to be fair with her?"

“I was fair."

“Fair! You really think you have the right to use that word?” asked Winston, coming as close to rolling his eyes out of sight of the judge but in full view of the jury as he could manage.

“Object to the form of the question!” said Rebecca.

“Sustained."

Looking ready to excuse Mike, Winston flipped quickly through his notes. “Oh, by the way,” he said.

Mike, who was practically out of his chair with eagerness to be done, sat back and waited.

“About the Solo Spa, the most successful product your company created. During your direct examination by Mr. Riesner last week, you showed us a drawing of it you made."

“Yes."

“That was the first drawing?"

“Yes."

“Isn’t it true that Lindy Markov caused you to make that first drawing?"

“ ’Caused’ me to make it? No."

“She told you her idea and you made a sketch?"

“No."

“She even made a little sketch herself, which you copied?"

“No. That sketch I made with the red pen I always use-that’s the first."

Winston got out the drawing and showed it to the jury. While he did this, Nina set up an overhead projector. Deputy Kimura placed a projection stand and screen to one side of the court reporter.

“Let’s just get a little better look at that drawing of yours,” Winston said. At his signal, the lights in the courtroom went down. There on the screen, hugely magnified, was Mike’s sketch in red pen. Winston pointed beside one of the red marks with a pencil tip. “Hmmm. What’s this?"

“What?” Mike leaned forward.

“These little lines here,” he tapped his pencil against the screen, “and here? Looks like pencil to me. Does it look like pencil to you, Mr. Markov?"

Mike’s mouth opened and closed. The marks were faint but clear.

“Does it?"

“It appears to be pencil. Yes, I must have done it that way first."

“But you always use your red pen to draw, isn’t that what you testified?"

“Obviously, I didn’t here."

“Obviously, you didn’t. Now, let me direct your attention to the date in red ink at the bottom of the page. See these marks here?"

“Not to read, no."

“No? Let’s magnify that just a little more.” The date sprang up, filling the bottom edge of the screen, and along with it, underneath it, in pencil, some letters.

“Let me further direct your attention to the letters at the bottom of this page. What do those letters say, Mr. Markov?"

“I don’t know."

“Really? You can’t see they say ‘LM’?"

Anyone could see they did except Mike, who said, “I don’t see it."

“You can’t read those letters, in writing, in black and white, plain and simple up there on the screen?"

Mike didn’t respond. The jury members looked across the courtroom from the letters to Mike.

“He has testified he can’t read those scribbles. Objection. Asked and answered,” Riesner sputtered.

They had done it. Yes! wrote Genevieve. Winston had been first to blow up the sketch and identify the initials. Even Lindy hadn’t remembered at first sketching the spa in pencil. They had hidden their surprise right under Riesner’s nose.

“ ‘LM.’ Isn’t that how Lindy Markov always signed her memos, Mr. Markov?” Winston asked, waving a sheaf of them to discourage Mike from putting up a fight about it.

Mike swallowed and admitted it.

“We have nothing further, Your Honor,” said Winston, shrugging to show his utter indifference to the man sitting on the stand behind him, who got slowly up from his chair and stepped down. For the first time since his testimony had begun, he turned his unhappy eyes to Lindy.

The next morning, Jeffrey Riesner was back in command, calling Hector Galka, Executive Vice President of Financial Strategies and Accounts. Hector looked tidy today, with his brushy mustache neatly clipped and trim body outfitted in a well-tailored suit. Nina liked his beautiful hazel eyes.

As he took the stand, he avoided looking at Lindy.

Based on his deposition, they already knew what he would say, and he didn’t disappoint. He hemmed and hawed, but in the end, for Hector, there was only one boss at Markov Enterprises: Mike Markov.

During cross-examination, Winston emphasized the bias in Hector’s perspective. “By the way, how much do you make per year as a base salary for Markov Enterprises in your capacity as executive vice president,” he asked, “not counting year-end bonuses, health plans, that sort of thing?”

“Um. One-sixty.”

“One hundred and sixty thousand dollars a year?” Winston repeated, drawing out the words for maximum effect. “And how much did Lindy Markov make at the time she was removed from her position?”

Much more slowly, as if he’d never thought about it before, Hector answered, “Seventy-five thousand a year.”

Winston had slipped that by Hector so fast, Hector hadn’t had time to do anything but answer the question. It hadn’t come up at the deposition, and Hector hadn’t been prepared.

And now Winston stood back and said absolutely nothing.

The jury, the other lawyers, the parties, the audience waited, but he bent down to tie his shoe. So they thought about the last question and answer.