“Objection!”
“Move on.”
“I’d like a ruling.”
“Sustained.” That’s more like it, Nina thought. At least a tiny semblance of real law practice endured.
“So the forger wanted to stop? To just make a straight line instead of a lower loop?”
“Correct. That is demonstrated by this stoppage, this angle here, for example.”
Nolan smiled. “It was hard for this speculative person to duplicate the evidence of Ms. Reilly’s huge appetite for life, her sexual vigor?”
“Objection!” Jack roared.
“She’s the one reading palms,” Nolan said.
“Counsel, restrain yourself,” Judge Brock said, his voice as affectless as ever, still attempting to demonstrate that he was a mere shell of a man, a nonpartisan vehicle for justice, in contrast to Nolan, who now openly flaunted the instincts of a starving she-wolf.
“That’s what you testified, isn’t it? The so-called forger is practical and money-oriented, not much of a lover, I take it. He was faking it, right? But according to you no one could ever accuse Ms. Reilly of faking it.”
“Your Honor, Counsel’s sarcasm isn’t getting us anywhere and is squandering the court’s valuable time,” Jack said. Nina bristled at his mildness. In good old Judge Milne’s court back at Lake Tahoe, the bailiff would be carting Nolan off to the tank, high heels kicking, on a contempt citation. Not only was Nolan assassinating Nina’s character, she was indulging in jokes at her expense, trivializing the whole proceeding as unworthy of serious attention. She wanted Nina clapped quickly into the stocks so the outraged townspeople could hurl rotten eggs at her.
“How much of your conclusion is based on court-approved techniques of questioned-documents analysis, versus graphology, Mrs. Gleb?”
“It is all relevant and important.”
“You can’t separate the two?”
“There is no separation. Let me say to you, Madam Attorney, that any examiner who tells you he isn’t using his intuition in the examination isn’t doing his job.”
“Right, intuition. I have nothing further for this witness.”
“You may step down.”
Mrs. Gleb left in a cloud of expensive perfume.
Jack had told Nina he tried out two other examiners before trying Mrs. Gleb, who had seemed so-so unperfumed back then. After examining the document, these alternative experts both admitted the likelihood of forgery, but had refused to stake their reputations on it.
Nina looked at the gigantic, swooping strokes of her handwriting, naked and eager on the screen. She looked down at her legal pad, at the notes she had been taking this morning with their huge lower loops everywhere. She turned the page hastily.
“We will take a final short break. You have one more witness on the Vang matter, is that right?” Judge Brock asked Jack.
“Yes. Mrs. See Vang,” Jack said.
“All right. We’ll take her then.”
Outside in the general waiting area, Mrs. Gleb cornered them before they could escape. “Know one thing,” she said. “I am right in what I say. You must ignore the mean-spirited sarcasm, as I’m sure the judge will do.”
“Thanks for coming, Mrs. Gleb,” Jack said. “We appreciate it.”
“Right is on your side, darlings, and what’s more practical, I’m there, too. Call me if there’s anything more I can do for you. I’m at the Marriott until the weekend.”
26
T HE BREAK ALLOWED just enough time for mutual recriminations.
“Why couldn’t you control her better?” Nina said to Jack as soon as they were on the next floor down and out of earshot. “She had some important points to make that had nothing to do with my voracious sexual appetite! I’m sure she signs her name with giant capitals, the better to express her inflated ego.”
“I talked to her at least three times on the phone. I saw a summary of what she would testify. She never mentioned those lower loops. Sometimes they do get carried away up there on the stand, as you well know.”
“You should have seen it coming. She’s flamboyant. I could see that right away. An expert should be conservative.”
“Hey, we owe her. Remember, we couldn’t get any other expert, and the truth is, she has a fantastic reputation in spite of Nolan’s vivisection, and she didn’t come off as badly as you make out. The forger used the same ink as you, the same paper, and wrote just a few words. There was no signature, and the fact is, nobody else had the guts and confidence to stick his neck out.”
“Graphology,” Nina said. “Sorta like astrology, right? I’m sure Judge Brock is having a private yuk in his chambers right now over that testimony. So how are we doing, Jack? Are we burying me alive? Because that’s how it feels.”
“Put aside your insecurity. Zip that lip and sit tight. We attack this thing point by point. Commit that to memory. Let’s go back in.”
Nina didn’t want to return to court and be a good girl. She was sick of Jack telling her what to do and irritated to trigger-finger sensitivity by her perpetual state of fury. She had abuse heaped up in her throat, backlogged. Jack deserved further tongue-lashing if she was to deliver him the conventional and complete client reflex.
She breathed four deep breaths, her mother’s advice from childhood for fending off tension and anger, and went back into the chamber of horrors, where the formidable Dr. Pell waited at the door.
The former FBI man, with his dark hair and devilish air, bore a remarkable resemblance to the actor Andy Garcia. He kept his testimony earnest, succinct, and, well, Nina had to admit it, fair. To keep the issues straight and so that he could get back to work in Quantico, they had taken him out of order.
Gayle Nolan held the floor. Pell had brought his own set of slides, but he didn’t talk about loops. He testified merely that nobody could tell if the last sentences were forged or not, as the forensic evidence was insufficient and the sample too short for an examination of the phrasing. “There are no smoking guns,” he said. “No misspellings, no obvious variances from the preceding writing.”
“So the writing is consistent with the writing in the rest of the document?” Nolan asked.
“Yes, it’s consistent. But-”
“There is therefore no evid-”
“Objection,” Jack said. “Let the witness finish. He was stopped before he could complete his answer.”
“Did you wish to add to your answer?” Judge Brock said.
Ignoring Nolan, who clearly did not want him to continue, Dr. Pell said, “Yes. I have to add that while it is consistent, that does not mean that I can conclude that this sample is indeed the handwriting of the defendant. It’s consistent, but then a passable forgery will be consistent. I simply don’t have enough to go on. I can only say that there is insufficient evidence to conclude these nineteen words were forged.”
“There is no evidence that this is a forgery, Dr. Pell,” Nolan said. “None. Is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
Jack cross-examined Dr. Pell, making sure he reiterated his inability to draw a conclusion either way. So far, Pell had not injured them fatally and Jack kept it that way, sticking to his own agenda, making his points without allowing any wiggle room. Apparently Nolan had had the same trouble they had finding an unequivocal opinion.
Dr. Pell stepped down, leaving them all understanding that there was no way expert testimony would prove whether or not Nina had written the final words.
What they had in the Vang case at this point were two conflicting pieces of evidence: the writing itself, apparently made in the usual course of business and therefore legally presumed to be what it purported to be, and Nina’s testimony along with Sandy’s addition, bless her heart.
The only other witness they had would be Mrs. Vang, who had arrived and was waiting outside with the omnipresent Dr. Mai. She would testify that Kao Vang had spent the evening and night with her and therefore could not have set the fire.
During the preceding six months, much had happened in the Vang family. Kao Vang had left town and by all accounts was back in his home village in the middle hills of Laos, but he didn’t answer his letters. Mrs. Vang had divorced him and was now studying computer science at Fresno State. The children had stayed with her.
Nina had continued to learn about the Hmong in America and by now realized what tremendous steps away from tradition Mrs. Vang had taken in obtaining a divorce, in living alone, and even in keeping the children, who ordinarily would have stayed with the father’s family. The Vangs had suffered in the U.S. but they had survived, each in separate ways.
Kao Vang had taken his share of the money ahead of the insurance company’s lawyers and was a rich man now in his home country, pretty much untouchable by Heritage. But Mrs. Vang’s share of the settlement check had been placed in an escrow account pending the outcome of a civil lawsuit alleging fraud, which Heritage had filed against the Vangs.
And against Nina, as a coconspirator. She had been sued by Heritage, but the proceedings were on hold while this proceeding went forward. The fight over Mrs. Vang’s share of the settlement money, of course, meant that today, in this court, Mrs. Vang had a credibility problem, which Nina knew would be exploited to the fullest extent by Gayle Nolan.
Small and unassuming, Mrs. Vang came in, was sworn, and took the stand.
When a witness first sits down, an instant occurs in the box during which the rest of the courtroom takes a long look and forms impressions. Nina’s first reaction was personal. Mrs. Vang looked better than Nina had ever seen her. Her posture was erect and the exhausted expression from the days of collecting receipts and making the claim was gone. She wore a modest pantsuit and held a stylish purse in her lap. She did not look like a liar.
Nina’s second reaction was professional. Mrs. Vang might make an impressive witness. They should get everything they could from her. Jack watched her, too, squinting in his concentration, no doubt forming a similar opinion.
The only problem was that Mrs. Vang’s answers would have to be translated. She spoke only limited English. Nolan had agreed without comment that, in the absence of a local certified Hmong- language translator, Dr. Mai could interpret. Sitting in a chair directly in front of Mrs. Vang, between Nolan and the witness box, Dr. Mai wore the same old shirt and pants. He made no eye contact with Nina or Jack.
Judge Brock looked tired. Naptime. Not good. He consulted with his clerk in whispers.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Vang.”
Dr. Mai spoke briefly and she answered softly in English, “Good afternoon.”
Jack took her through the litany of misfortune that had befallen the family, first in Laos, then in the U.S. He came to the second robbery, in which Kao Vang had been armed and shot and killed the robber at the Blue Star Market.
“And you were present when all this occurred?”
