Korrogly requested a consultation with his client, and once they were sequestered he asked Lemos, ‘Did you know about the will?’
A nod. ‘But that wasn’t why I went to see Colari. I didn’t care about the money, I didn’t want anything that Zemaille had touched. I was afraid for Mirielle. I wanted her out of that place, and I thought the only way I could manage that was to have her declared incompetent.’
The uncharacteristic passion with which he had spoken startled Korrogly: it was the first sign of vitality that Lemos had displayed since his arrest.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘I didn’t think of it.’
‘It seems an odd thing to have forgotten.’
‘It wasn’t so much that I forgot . . . Look.’ Lemos sat up straight, absentmindedly putting his hand to his brow. ‘I realize I’ve given you a hard time, but I . . . it’s been . . . I can’t explain what it’s been like for me. I didn’t think you believed my story. I’m still not sure you do. And that’s just added to the despair I’ve been feeling. I’m sorry, I know I should have been more cooperative.’
Despite his prison haircut and coverall, his unhealthy complexion, Lemos seemed the picture of eager contrition, boyish in his renewed vigor, and Korrogly did not know whether to be pleased or disgusted. Incredible, he thought, more than incredible, the man was impossible to believe, except that somehow his very implausibility seemed believable. As for Mirielle, how could she have hidden this from him? What did that signal as to their relationship? Was her hatred for her father such a powerful taint that it could abrogate all other rules? Had he misjudged her in every way?
‘It doesn’t look good, does it?’ Lemos said.
Korrogly resisted the temptation to laugh. ‘We still have our witnesses, and I’m not going to let Mirielle’s testimony go unchallenged.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Try to overcome the effects of your despondency,’ said Korrogly. ‘Come on.’
Once back in the courtroom, Korrogly took a turn around the witness box, studying Mirielle, who appeared nervous, picking at the seams of her dress, and at last he said, ‘Why do you hate your father?’
She looked surprised.
‘It’s not a difficult question,’ Korrogly said. ‘It’s obvious to everyone here that you want him found guilty.’
‘Objection!’ Mervale shrilled.
Judge Wymer said, ‘Limit yourself to proper questions, Mister Korrogly.’
Korrogly nodded. ‘Why do you hate your father?’
‘Because . . .’ Mirielle stared at him, pleading with her eyes. ‘Because . . .’
‘Is it because you consider him a restrictive parent?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because he tried to separate you and your lover?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because you feel he is contemptible in the stodginess and staleness of his life?’
‘Yes.’
‘And can we assume you have other reasons yet for hating him?’
‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘Yes! What are you doing?’
‘I’m establishing that you hate your father, Miss Lemos. That you hate him with sufficient passion to attempt to turn this trial into a melodrama so as to guarantee his conviction. That you’ve hidden evidence from the court so that it could be produced at a particularly theatrical moment. Perhaps you’ve had help in this from the theatrical Mister Mervale . . .’
‘Objection!’
‘Mister Korrogly!’ said Judge Wymer.
‘. . . but whatever the case, you most certainly have been duplicitous in your testimony . . .’
‘Mister Korrogly!’
‘Duplicitous in your intent, in your every action before this court!’
‘Mister Korrogly! If you don’t stop this immediately . . .’
‘I apologize, Your Honor.’
‘You’re on thin ice, Mister Korrogly. I won’t permit another such outburst.’
‘I can assure you, Your Honor, it won’t happen again.’ He walked over to the jury box, leaned against it, hoping to ally himself thereby with the jurors, to make it seem that he was asking their questions. ‘Miss Lemos, you knew of the will prior to this morning . . . correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you make mention of it to the prosecutor?’
‘Yes.’
‘When did you mention it to him?’
‘Yesterday afternoon.’
‘Why not before? Surely you must have recognized its importance.’
‘I . . . it slipped my mind, I guess.’
‘It slipped your mind,’ said Korrogly, injecting heavy sarcasm into his tone. ‘You guess.’ He turned to the jury, shook his head ruefully. ‘Is there anything else you have forgotten to mention?’
‘Objection!’
‘Overruled. The witness will answer.’
‘I . . . no.’
‘I hope not for your sake,’ Korrogly said. ‘Did your father ever tell you that the reason he wanted to declare you incompetent was to remove you from the temple, to prevent you from being destroyed by Zemaille?’
‘Oh, he said that, but . . .’
‘Just answer the question Yes or No.’
‘Yes.’
‘This will,’ said Korrogly, ‘you knew its contents . . . I mean you were versed in its contents, you knew its exact particulars.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Now the conversation during which you told your father about the will, it was, I take it, rather heated, was it not?’
‘Yes.’
‘And so in the midst of a heated conversation, a violent argument, if you will, you had the presence of mind to inform your father of the contents of a most complicated document. I assume you filled him in on every detail.’
‘Well, no, not everything.’
‘Oh!’ Korrogly arched an eyebrow. ‘What exactly did you tell him?’
‘I . . . I can’t recall. Not exactly.’
‘Now let me get this straight, Miss Lemos. You remember telling him about the will, but you can’t recall if you informed him of its contents. It is possible then that you merely blurted out something to the effect that Mardo had seen to your future?
‘No, I . . .’
‘Or did you say . . .’
‘He knew what it meant!’ she shouted, standing up in the box. ‘He knew!’ She stared with fierce loathing at Lemos. ‘He killed him for the money! But he’ll never . . .’
‘Sit down, Miss Lemos!’ said Judge Wymer. ‘Now!’ Once she had obeyed, he warned her in no uncertain terms to restrain her behavior.
‘So,’ Korrogly went on, ‘in the midst of an argument you blurted out some incoherent . . .’
‘Objection!’
‘Sustained.’
‘You blurted out something, you can’t recall exactly what, about the will. Is that a fair statement?’
‘You’re twisting my words!’
‘On the contrary, Miss Lemos, I’m simply repeating what you’ve said. It appears that the only persons who were absolutely clear as to the contents of the will were you and Mardo Zemaille.’
‘No, that’s . . .’
‘That wasn’t a question, Miss Lemos. Merely the preamble to one. Since you are likely to benefit greatly from your father’s conviction, since that will in effect prevented him from initiating a competency hearing, doesn’t that color your testimony the color of greed?’
‘I never wanted anything except Mardo.’
‘I believe everyone within earshot will second your characterization of Mardo Zemaille as a thing.’
‘No need to object, Mister Mervale,’ said Judge Wymer; then, to Korrogly: ‘I’ve given you a great deal of leeway. That leeway is now at end. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, Your Honor.’ Korrogly crossed to the defense table, picked up some of his notes, and leafing through them, walked to the witness box and stood facing Mirielle; her face was tight with anger. ‘Did you believe in Mardo Zemaille, Miss Lemos?’