Juanita demonstrated no antagonism toward Eastin in her evidence, and kept her answers brief, so that the prosecutor pressed her constantly to amplify them. Plainly all she wanted was to have the ordeal over.
Defense counsel, making a belated wise decision, waived his right to question her.
It was immediately following Juanita's testimony that defense counsel, after a whispered consultation with his client, asked leave to approach the bench Permission was granted. The prosecutor, judge, and defense counsel thereupon engaged in a low-toned colloquy during which the latter requested leave to change Miles Eastin's original "not guilty" plea to "guilty."
Judge Underwood, a quiet-spoken patriarch, with steel not far below the surface, surveyed both lawyers. He matched their lowered voices so the jury could not hear. "Very well, the change of plea will be permitted if the defendant so wishes. But I advise counsel that at this point it makes little, if any, difference."
Sending the jury from the courtroom, the judge then questioned Eastin, confirming that he wished to change his plea and realized the consequences. To all the questions the prisoner answered dully, "Yes, your honor?'
The judge recalled the jury to the courtroom and dismissed it.
After an earnest entreaty by the young defense lawyer for clemency, including a reminder that his client had no previous criminal record, Miles Eastin was remanded into custody for sentencing the following week.
Nolan Wainwright, though not required to testify, had been present throughout the court proceedings. Now, as the- court clerk called another case and the contingent of bank witnesses filed out from the courtroom, the bank security chief moved alongside Juanita. .,. "Mrs. Nunez, may I talk with you for a few minutes?" She glanced at him with a mixture of indifference and hostility, then shook her head. "It is all finished. Besides, I am going back to work." -
When they were outside the Federal Courts Building, only a few blocks from FMA Headquarters Tower and the downtown branch, he persisted, "You're walking to the bank? Right now?" She nodded. "Please. I'd like to walk with you." Juanita shrugged. "If you must."
Wainwright watched as Edwina D'Orsey, Tottenhoe, and the two audit staff men, also heading for the bank, crossed a nearby intersection. He deliberately held back, missing a green pedestrian light so the others would remain ahead.
"Look," Wainwright said, "I've never found it easy to say I'm sorry."
Juanita said tartly, "Why should you bother? It is only a word, not meaning much."
"Because I want to say it. So I do to you. I'm sorry. Par the trouble I caused you, for not believing you were telling the truth when you were and needed somebody to help."
"So now you feel better? You have swallowed your little aspirin? The tiny pain is gone?" "You don't make it easy."
She stopped. "Did you?" The small elfin face was tilted upward, her dark eyes met his own steadily and for the first time he was aware of an underlying strength and independence. He was also, to his own surprise, conscious of her strong sexuality.
"No, I didn't. Which is why I'd like to help now if I can." "Help about what?"
"About getting maintenance and child support from your husband." He told her of the FBI inquiries concerning her absent husband Carlos, and tracing him to Phoenix, Arizona. "He has a job there as a motor mechanic and obviously is earning money."
'Then I am pleased for Carlos."
"What I had in mind," Wainwright said, "is that you should consult one of our lawyers at the bank. I could arrange that. He would advise you how to take action against your husband and afterwards I'd see to it you weren't charged any legal fees." "Why would you do that?" "We owe it to you." She shook her head. "No." He wondered if she had properly understood.
"It would mean," Wainwright said, "there would be a court order and your husband would have to send you money to help take care of your little girl." "And will that make Carlos a man?" "Does it matter?"
"It matters that he should not be forced. He knows that I am here and that Estela is with me. If Carlos wanted us to have his money he would send it. Si no, para que?" she added softly.
It was like a fencing match with shadows. He said in exasperation, "I'll never understand you."
Unexpectedly Juanita smiled. "It is not necessary that you should."
They walked the remaining short distance to the bank in silence, Wainwright nursing his frustration. He wished she had thanked him for his offer; if she had, it would have meant, at least, she took it seriously. He tried to guess at her reasoning and values. She obviously rated independence high. After that he imagined she accepted life as it came, fortune or misfortune, hopes raised or yearnings shattered. In a way he envied her and, for that reason and the sexual attraction he had been aware of earlier, he wished he knew her better.
"Mrs. Lopez," Nolan Wainwright said, "I'd like to ark you something." "Yes."
"If you have a problem, a real problem, something I might help with, will you call me?"
It was the second such offer she had had in the past few days. "Maybe."
That until much later was the last conversation between Wainwright and Juanita. He felt he had done all he could, and had other things on his mind. One was a subject he had raised with Alex Vandervoort two months ago planting an undercover informer in an attempt to track down the source of counterfeit credit cards, still gouging deep financial wounds in the Keycharge card system.
Wainwright had located an ex-convict, known to him Only as "Vic," who was prepared to take the considerable risk in return for money. They had had one secret meeting, with elaborate precautions. Another was expected.
Wainwright's fervent hope was to bring the credit-card swindlers to justice, as he had Miles Eastin.
The following week, when Eastin appeared once more before Judge Underwood this time for sentencing Nolan Wainwright was the sole representative of First Mercantile American Bank in court.
With the prisoner standing, facing the bench on the court clerk's orders, the judge took his time about selecting several papers and spreading them before him, then regarded Eastin coldly. "Do you have anything to say?" "No, your honor." The voice was barely audible.
"I have received a report from the probation officer" Judge Underwood paused, scanning one of the papers he had selected earlier "whom you appear to have convinced that you are genuinely penitent for the criminal offenses to which you have pleaded guilty." The judge articulated the words "genuinely penitent" as if holding them distastefully between thumb and forefinger, making clear that he was not so naive as to share the opinion.
He continued, "Penitence, however, whether genuine or otherwise, is not only belated but cannot mitigate your vicious, despicable attempt to thrust blame for your own malfeasance onto an innocent and unsuspecting person a young woman one, moreover, for whom you were responsible as a bank officer and who trusted you as her superior.
"On the basis of the evidence it is dear you would have persisted in that course, even to having your innocent victim accused, found guilty, and sentenced in your place. Fortunately, because of the vigilance of others, that did not occur. But it was not through any second thoughts or 'penitence' of yours."
From his seat in the body of the court, Nolan Wainwright had a partial view of Eastin's face which had suffused deep red.