quietly. Nina gave them all a respectful smile, and a couple of them smiled back.
Judge Salas appeared on the stand, sitting down ritualistically, adjusting his robe and glasses and tidying his papers. Nina had found out one important thing about him during the trial: he might act injudiciously biased and emotional on occasion in proceedings outside the presence of the jury, but he stayed careful when they were seated. Deliberate and calm in his speech, he never exhibited any sign of the favoritism toward Jaime Sandoval that Nina had noted in her previous dealings with him.
He might actually turn out to be a good judge. Anyway, he was a bastion of impartiality at the moment. For that, Nina was grateful.
She looked over at Jaime at the next table, powwowing with Detective Banta. He caught her look and gave her a brief smile. We’re professionals, his look said. Nina thought, Whatever happens with Paul, I could practice law comfortably with this judge and this D.A. for a long time.
The day before, while she sat wedged behind her desk, Bear, accompanied by Sean, his earnest second, had come in to up his offer. A permanent position with the firm, a fast-track partnership, and a nice signing bonus. The money was an enticement she could resist, but a decision to resist could not be casual.
She had worked so hard for so long, and she was hitting her stride at last. The drive into Salinas in the morning, the scent of fields and growing vegetables, the sleepy streets and soft morning sun, the pillars and gargoyles and the old wooden chairs the lawyers sat in-it all had seemed civilized, manageable, easy, not as craggy and challenging as at Tahoe…
Then she thought of Bob, unhappy; their house at Tahoe, empty; her practice up there, waiting; and Sandy, leaving. And Paul, perfidious but loved, still loved. He lived here.
Klaus’s mood remained rambunctious. He talked loudly, aiming oblique insults toward Jaime, who thought Klaus had no business practicing law anymore. Well, maybe Jaime was right. Did Bear and the others view her as merely a baby-sitter, just skilled enough to keep Klaus active for another year or two?
She turned her head. Paul stared at her with an unfathomable expression. He gave her a thumbs-up. She turned back to the judge.
Who was saying, “Call your first witness.”
Klaus rose, all trace of his tantrum in the hall erased.
“Your Honor,” he said, “the defense calls Wanda Wyatt to the stand.”
“Now then, Mrs. Wyatt. When were you born?”
“In 1937.”
“And where?”
“Where was I born?” Wanda looked at the judge. She had put on bright plum-colored lipstick that gave her angular white face a garish look.
“It’s a simple question.”
“In Poznan. Poland.”
“You speak Polish?”
“Yes.”
Wanda said,
“You learned these languages as a child?”
“That is right.”
“And where did you learn Russian?”
“I-I learned it from someone. An employer.”
“Oh-ho. An employer. And who might this employer be?” He had sneaked up on her sideways like a crab, and like a crab he was waving that expressive claw of his already.
“Constantin Zhukovsky.”
Madeleine Frey looked astonished. Larry Santa Ana nodded happily, as if watching a piece of metal clicking into place in a car engine, satisfied with this turn of events. The young women, along with most of the other jurors, simply appeared puzzled.
“You were Mr. Zhukovsky’s housekeeper, that is right? During what years?”
“For a few years in the 1970s, starting about 1972.”
“Ah. During the years your two boys were born, that’s so, isn’t it?”
She appeared to have given herself over to the goateed devil gesticulating in front of her. Without resistance, she said, “Yes.”
Klaus’s finger slashed downward several times as he said loudly, “Why did you lie to the court about your relationship with Constantin Zhukovsky!”
“Why did I…”
“You never told the jury that you were married to the man whose bones were in that grave, did you?”
“Nobody asked.”
Nina looked over at Jaime, who scratched his nose and tapped his pen against his file.
“So it is true? You married Zhukovsky in 1973, after the death of his first wife, Davida. You became his second wife?”
“Yes.” The word forced itself out of her.
“That is better,” Klaus said. “Now, then, tell the jury why you kept your marriage a secret even from your children.” Jaime could have objected on foundational grounds or because Klaus was badgering Wanda, but the other counsel table held to a conspicuous silence. Apparently, Jaime thought Klaus had swerved off on some pointless tangent. He didn’t mind letting Klaus waste his energy in idle pursuits.
Wanda’s eyes flashed.
“Answer!” Klaus said.
“There’s no simple answer.”
“Then we will hear the complicated version.”
“Okay.” She thought. “I worked in his house starting right after his first wife died. He was lonely, and I was…”
“You were lonely, too?”
“Not exactly. I was in my mid-thirties. I had spent all my twenties into my early thirties sleeping around, having fun, using birth control, you know? It was those times. I was a free spirit, no ties, just a party girl. And what happened was, I saw him, and how much he loved his kids. I wanted children.” She shrugged. “I was worried I would get too old, and there he was, needing affection. We got close. I loved him.”
“By his kids you mean Christina and Alex?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I got pregnant. When he found out, he insisted on marrying me. I told him no, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted our child to be legitimate. But we never planned on a conventional family scene. That was okay. I just wanted kids so much.”
“So your first child, Gabriel, was born in 1974.”
“And my second,” she turned her head toward Stefan, “came in 1975.”
“How did Constantin take the births?”
“He understood I wanted them. He accepted it.”
“Yet he never lived with you?”
“His daughter, Christina, was very attached to her parents, more than normal, I would say. When her mother died, she broke down, needed counseling, the whole nine yards. The son-Alex-hardly talked to anyone for the first year after his mother’s death. They all missed her. Constantin’s first wife was very cultured. Her children knew me as just this low-life hippie housekeeper.”
“This Constantin was a snob, eh?”
She clearly hated this question. “Kind of.”
“What about your children? Gabriel and Stefan? Did Constantin come to visit, bring little toys? Bring hugs and kisses on his visits?”
“When they were babies, he did. But he got sick and aged fast-he let go.”
“He treated them like unwanted illegitimates, it seems.”
Her face gave them an answer.
“He left money for you in a trust?”
“When he was failing, there at the end of his life, he told me he wanted to give some to us. I thought that was great, really generous.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
The jurors appeared shocked.
“Sounded like a lot to me then, too,” Wanda said, “but it amounts to only about four hundred a month. A lot of it goes to pay for health insurance. I still clean houses, and sometimes the companies I work for have bad coverage or none. The rest bought our groceries. We ate a lot of noodles.”
“His other children inherited much more, didn’t they?”
“I didn’t know about that. I thought he was a baker. I didn’t know he had much money. He didn’t act like it.”
“Why keep your marriage secret?”
“He wanted it that way, and so he put it in the agreement. I didn’t care then. Now I see some of my decisions weren’t so smart. I dropped out of high school to get a job so I could leave home, and later I got arrested at peace marches from here to Washington, D.C.” She frowned. “I posed nude for a girly magazine for a few bucks back in my twenties, too. I can’t justify my life, except to say I did what I wanted mostly.” She pulled on her gray ponytail. “One thing right was having those boys.”
Stefan wiped at his eyes with his hand until Klaus handed him an immaculate handkerchief.
“I only wish for their sakes I had never agreed to keep my marriage secret, but I did, so I stuck by the terms for a long, long time. Does my telling everything here in court today mean I’m giving up that money?”
“Maybe not,” Klaus said. “What you testify to as a subpoenaed witness can be protected.”
Jaime was taking fast notes. Nina assumed he was beginning to realize the testimony could be used to hurt Stefan. Klaus rocked back on his feet a moment. Oh, no, she thought, he’s forgotten what he was talking about.
