“Objection!” Rovitch was on his feet. “This document is hearsay! It’s inadmissible! It’s a complete fake!”
Mary faced the judge. “Your Honor, the document isn’t hearsay. Mrs. Nyquist produced the document, she’s a witness with knowledge, and she’s here to authenticate it, if Mr. Rovitch would permit.”
“Objection overruled. Go ahead,” Judge Gemmill said, inclining her sleek head toward Mrs. Nyquist.
“Helen,” Mary said, composing herself. “Where did you type this up?”
“In the office at the camp. At my desk.”
“Why? Did Amadeo Brandolini ask you to?”
“Goodness, no.”
Ouch. “Did Giovanni Saracone ask you to?”
“No. That shifty devil didn’t want anything in writing.”
“Objection!” Rovitch said, and Judge Gemmill slammed down the gavel.
“Counsel, will you give it a rest!” she said, and Rovitch slunk in his seat.
Mary hid her smile, and her confusion, when she faced Mrs. Nyquist again. “Helen, who asked you to prepare this?”
“Nobody. It was my idea.”
Mary blinked. “Why?”
“I never sold a horse without a contract. Never leased a horse without a contract. Never even hauled a horse without a contract,” Mrs. Nyquist answered, matter-of-factly. “You gotta have a contract. Don’t need a law degree to know that.”
Mary broke into a smile, and the gallery and Judge Gemmill laughed with her.
“So,” Mrs. Nyquist continued, “when I saw these two making this deal, I said, one a you is gonna need this thing on down the line.” She eyed Justin coldly. “I knew just which one, and I’m sorry to say I was right.”
Mary felt like clapping, but she’d be disbarred. The gallery was murmuring and Judge Gemmill was smiling. Mary returned to her exhibits.
“Let’s turn now to Exhibit N-2 and N-3, Helen. What are these documents?” Mary looked down at hers, which felt like precious paper in her hands. They were drawings of the hatches, considerably more detailed than the ones she had found in Amadeo’s wallet, which must have been preliminary. Mary looked up at Mrs. Nyquist.
“These are drawings that Amadeo made, of his hatch,” Mrs. Nyquist testified.
“How do you know Amadeo made them, and not Giovanni Saracone?”
“Because he drew them in front of me, right then.”
Mary blinked. “While you waited?”
“It took an hour and a half, and he did it from memory, all of it. He was a smart man. Not an educated man, but a smart man.”
“Helen, did you make copies of this contract?”
“I did. I made carbon copies when I typed it.”
“How many?”
“Two. One for Amadeo, and one for Gio. I kept this one, the original, for safekeeping.”
Mary thought a minute. “At whose request?”
“I did it on my own. I downplayed it, I guess you’d say. I don’t think either man noticed I kept the original, they were so excited.” At the recollection, Mrs. Nyquist had a faraway look. “Gio practically skipped out of the office.”
And Amadeo had signed his own death warrant. Mary put together what must have happened. Saracone had undoubtedly gotten rid of Amadeo’s copy of the contract, but he’d forgotten about the original. Mrs. Nyquist hadn’t. Mary heaved a sigh. Her job was done.
“Your Honor,” Mary said, “Exhibits N-1 through N-3 having being authenticated, I move for their admission into evidence.”
“Admitted,” Judge Gemmill ruled, nodding.
Thank you, God. “And thank you, Mrs. Nyquist. Your Honor, I have no further questions,” Mary said, after a minute. She turned and sat down, catching Bennie flash her a thumbs-up. She sat down and stared straight ahead, because she knew if she looked over at Judy, she’d start laughing or crying or both. In the next minute, Judy passed her a note on a yellow legal pad that read: MARRY ME.
But Mary tensed as Rovitch approached the lectern.
Because it wasn’t over until it was over.
Forty-Eight
Rovitch drew himself up to his full height at the lectern. “Well, Mrs. Nyquist, that was quite a story.”
Mary bit her tongue. She wouldn’t object unless Mrs. Nyquist was in real trouble. The woman broke broncos for fun.
“It was the truth, sir,” Mrs. Nyquist answered, folding her hands on the stand, and Mary thought she saw a slight tremble. Even cowgirls aren’t bulletproof.
“Mrs. Nyquist, I find it strange that you appear with these documents that make Ms. DiNunzio’s day, and just in the nick of time.”
“Is that a question, Your Honor?” Mrs. Nyquist asked Judge Gemmill, and the judge shook her head.
“Not in my book.”
“Mrs. Nyquist, my question is when is the last time you met with counsel for the estate, Mary DiNunzio?”
“A week ago, last Wednesday.”
“And where did that meeting take place?”
“At my home in Butte.”
“Was Ms. Carrier or Bennie Rosato present at the meeting?”
Mrs. Nyquist blinked. “Who are they?”
Judy laughed softly and passed Mary a note: NOBODY.
“Who else was present at your meeting?”
“Just us, and it wasn’t a meeting.”
“What was it then?”
“She came by for coffee and pie, she was trying to find out about Gio and Amadeo.”
“Mrs. Nyquist, at this meeting, did you discuss with Ms. DiNunzio the testimony you would be giving today?”
“No.”
“Did you discuss your testimony with her at all before you gave it today?”
“No.”
“Did you discuss your testimony with anyone from her office before you gave it today?”
“No.”
Rovitch blinked. “You mean to tell this Court that you simply appeared, here in this courtroom, with this document?”
“Yes.”
At counsel table, Mary almost laughed out loud. I know, I can’t believe it either.
Rovitch paused. “Has Ms. DiNunzio contacted you since your meeting in Butte?”
“No, she hasn’t returned my call. I’ve left two messages but she hasn’t called back.”
Back at counsel table, Mary felt a pang of guilt. Her messages. She flashed on Marshall, lecturing her when she was on the way out of the office, with Judy.
Rovitch leaned over the lectern. “Then how, pray tell, did you even know to come here this morning, to this courtroom?”
“I didn’t.” Mrs. Nyquist shook her head. “I went to Mary’s office but there were so many damn reporters there I couldn’t even get in. Then one of ’em told me everybody was here, so I took a cab and came down here to see her. Then I saw her getting out of a cab, and I tried to call her, but there were still so many damn reporters louder ’en me, I couldn’t holler over ’em.”
The poor woman. Mary smiled, and the gallery chuckled, too.
Rovitch jingled some change in his pocket and rocked back and forth on his loafers for a minute. “Mrs. Nyquist, why is it, then, that you came all the way out to Philadelphia?”
“To bring Mary the contract.”
“How did you know she needed it?”
“Because when she came to visit me, she told me she thought Gio murdered Amadeo, and I figured this might be the reason why.”
Wow. Mary’s eyes flared open at the revelation. The gallery startled, and even Judge Gemmill was surprised. Saracone looked like he could kill, and Rovitch stood at the lectern, wanting to object to his own question. Mary shuddered. I’d go with no further questions, pal.
Mrs. Nyquist added, “And it’s been botherin’ me, gnawin’ at me, and my grandson showed me how on the Internet it was the big news story here in Philadelphia. I thought she might need my help.” She nodded at Mary. “She’s a hardworkin’ gal and she’s tryin’ to do right by Amadeo.”