LITMIR.BIZ

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I’ve told him I want a divorce, he doesn’t tell me anything. All I know is that the feds received some kind of anonymous information that linked him to that group from Italy who were trying to establish themselves in the U.S.”

      “The Camorra.”

      “Yeah.” She ran her fingers across her forehead, as if trying to rub away some thought. “I still can’t believe that the man I married got involved with any of that. It’s so hard to wrap my head around, and I don’t know what to say to the kids….”

      I didn’t know what to say, either. The Camorra was the group my father had spent much of his life trying to shut down. It was what had taken him away from us. But Lucy didn’t know all that.

      Lucy looked at me. “Don’t you see why I want to go out with Theo’s friends? I want to be with people who are younger. I want to go backward.”

      Was that what I was doing with Theo? A better question—was that what I’d be doing with Sam? Going backward?

      “Theo and I are supposed to go out tomorrow night with his friends,” I said. “But I have to warn you—a couple of them aren’t the brightest tools in the shed. Once I saw one of them wearing a T-shirt that said, Things are smaller than they appear.” I threw my hands up. “What does that mean? That his penis is smaller than it seems?”

      Lucy laughed. “Was he cute?”

      I nodded grudgingly.

      “Great! This is exactly what I want. Cute, young and not-so-smart.”

      I shrugged. “Tomorrow night at nine.”

      16

       W hen I got to the courtroom, Maggie was raring to go. I could see that even through the Plexiglas wall. Her cheeks were tinged pink, the way they got when she was excited.

      I pushed open the door with the lock and walked to our table. “You’re ready?”

      “Oh, yeah.” She grinned.

      “You look a little revved up.”

      “I found out Bernard is coming into town next week to sub with the orchestra.” Maggie actually clapped her hands.

      Maggie and I met Bernard in Italy in June. He was a French horn player with the Seattle Symphony. And he was also a huge, huge Filipino guy, which was sort of funny when you paired him with little, golden-haired Maggie. But they had become a couple, despite their odd appearance together. The minute we’d returned to the U.S., she was on the phone with him a few times a day, emailing about ten times a day and texting even more.

      “That’s fantastic!” I said.

      “I know. My grandfather is going to flip. He loves the CSO.”

      She went quiet. We both thought of Martin.

      “Where is he?” I asked.

      The grin fled her face. “I went to his house this morning, and he’s not doing well. He’s just kind of…fading. I don’t know how else to put it.”

      “Your grandmother must be worried.”

      “She is. I am, too, but I told him we could handle the openings and the first witnesses.”

      “We can.” I wanted to keep up her spirits, so I changed the topic and told her I’d seen Sam after court yesterday and how I’d stormed from the restaurant.

      “Interesting,” Maggie said. “But that doesn’t really help you figure anything out, does it?”

      I gave her an irritated look. “No.” I changed the topic again. “Who’s handling our exhibits and graphics?”

      Now Maggie gave me an annoyed glance. “What do you mean? I’m handling the exhibits. Or we are now. And we don’t have any graphics. I’ve got some blowups of a couple photos, but nothing else.”

      “Holy mother of Elvis.”

      Maggie looked even more annoyed. “You know, that stop-swearing thing of yours has got to go. Those curse word replacements are ludicrous, and you always end up swearing anyway to explain it. Just say it.”

      “Fine. Holy shit, are you serious?” When I was at Baltimore & Brown, if I was on trial, I not only had my assistant, Q, to handle the exhibits and the graphics, I usually had command of one or two paralegals, as well.

      “Yeah, I’m serious,” Maggie said.

      “Do you have records from this case scanned into your computer?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Any exhibits in your laptop?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Then you should be putting them on a screen or on the wall. Everyone is used to looking at a TV or a computer. They can’t just listen anymore. You’ve got to show the jurors something.”

      Maggie chewed her lip. “I know one of the attorneys in my office has the equipment for all that, but he’s a personal injury lawyer. We never use that kind of stuff.”

      I shook my head. “You criminal lawyers are so weird.” I took my cell phone out of my bag. “I’ll call Q to do it.”

      She shook her head. “No, no. I just brought you in on this case. I can’t add anyone else. It will throw me off. Plus, we’re in a small courtroom, and there aren’t many exhibits needed right now.”

      I sighed. “Keep it in mind.”

      “Done.”

      I looked around the courtroom again and saw more people filing into the gallery. “Where are Amanda’s family members?”

      Maggie jutted her chin toward the right side of the spectator benches. “That’s the husband, Zavy.”

      I followed her gaze. I saw a handsome man, midfortyish, I guessed, but he looked younger. He wore a navy blazer over a white shirt. His hair was blond-brown and thick. His face bore slight creases around the eyes and mouth, but he was a type of man on whom facial lines looked handsome. From what I could see, he was in shape, probably a weekend athlete. If Valerie had wanted him for her own, I supposed I could understand why.

      As I looked at him, Zavy raised his head and gazed through the glass to the front of the courtroom. He stared at the state attorneys’ table, at the lawyers there. It seemed to me as if he was waiting for them to glance at him, to give him some direction or ask him questions. He looked sad, helpless.

      “Shouldn’t he sit at the counsel’s table?” I asked Maggie.

      She shook her head.

      “But he’s the victim of the crime.” I saw the look Maggie shot me. “Alleged crime.”

      “He’s the victim’s spouse, not the victim,” Maggie said. “And even if he were the victim, he’s not a party to the lawsuit. The state is. Technically, the case has nothing to do with him.”

      In a civil trial, Zavy would be sitting with the attorneys. He would be an integral part of the case. I felt a wave of pity for the guy. His wife had died and yet the case didn’t have anything to do with him? “I’m going to say hello and introduce myself.”

      Maggie looked startled. “Why?”

      “Because I think it would be polite. It seems the right thing to do.”

      “I don’t think Zavy Miller wants to hang out with us.”

      “I’m not going to hang out with him. I just think civility demands an introduction.”

      “The state’s attorneys won’t like it. He’s their witness.”

      “But he’s not their client. Like you said, he’s not a party. And anyone can talk to lay witnesses.”

      Maggie’s face scrunched in concentration.

      “What?”

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