“No.”
“How long after you returned did you and Amanda eat dinner?”
“Maybe an hour or so.”
“Tell us about the dinner itself.”
Zavy shifted forward. He exhaled audibly, adjusted his gray silk tie. “There’s not much to tell. We ate. We talked about the kids. Tess had a play at school coming up, and we discussed that.” He shrugged. “It was just…normal.”
“Did you try both batches of the chicken mole?”
“No, I just ate the one.”
“Did Amanda try both that evening?”
“No.”
“Which batch did Amanda eat from?”
“She had the spicier one.”
“How did you know which was spicier, if you didn’t try both?”
“The dishes looked the same, but they had put a few sliced onions on the spicier one so we would know which was which.”
“Did anything peculiar happened during dinner?”
“No, not at all.”
“Was there any food left when you were done?”
“A little, but we put it down the disposal because we were planning on driving to our second home the next day.”
“Where is that home?”
“Fontana, Wisconsin.”
“What did you do after dinner?”
“We washed the dishes. Then we watched TV for a while.”
“Did your children return?”
“No, they were both staying overnight at their friends’ houses. Amanda had wanted it to be just us because we would be with the kids for a week at the lake.”
“What happened next on that evening?” Ellie asked.
Next to me, I saw Valerie drop her head. When I glanced, her eyes were on her lap.
“We went to bed around ten, and then…” Zavy coughed, sounded like he was choking. He was, I realized, crying. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you need a break, Mr. Miller?” Ellie said.
“No. No, I’m fine.”
His eyes strained, he lifted his head higher. “We went to bed that night, and then Amanda got up to use the restroom and…it was like her legs went out from under her. She sort of stumbled and fell.”
“What did you do?”
“I helped her up from the floor.”
“How did you do that?”
Zavy pantomimed a pulling gesture. “She was reaching her hands up to me for help, so I grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her to standing. She was breathing fast and said she was dizzy. I said we should go to the E.R., but she didn’t want to.”
“What happened then?”
“She said she felt weak and exhausted, and she just wanted to go to bed. I was worried about her, so I looked up weakness and dizziness on the internet, then ran out to the drug store to get her some medications.”
“Mr. Miller, do you have any medical training?”
“No.”
“So you were relying on what you read on the internet as to what might help Amanda?”
“Well, no, not really. I couldn’t figure out what might be causing her symptoms. I just got anything I could think of, some Tylenol, some Tums, some iron pills, be cause she said she had been anemic once while she was pregnant.”
“Was Mrs. Miller pregnant on the night she died?”
“No.”
“Did any of the medications help?”
“She took the Tylenol. She said she did feel a little better, less dizzy, but I think she was trying not to worry me. It kept coming and going, the dizziness.” His eyes were pained. “She looked so confused, so scared. I started saying that maybe we should go to the hospital. But then I found her on the floor of the living room. And she was…” His head sank toward his chest.
In my own chest, my heart went out to him.
“Dead,” he said finally. His head stayed low. When he finally lifted it, there were tears trickling down his cheeks.
The courtroom was silent. Ellie let the moment hang.
She asked some clarifying questions, and Zavy testified more about looking for his wife, about finding her on the floor, about calling 911, about the efforts to revive Amanda. He talked about how the coroner had later told him that Amanda’s food had been laced. He’d also told Zavy that he could have died if he’d eaten the same batch of food Amanda did. He talked about her funeral and the children she’d left behind.
Ellie Whelan raised a finger and cocked her head like she’d just remembered something. “Mr. Miller, let’s go back in time for a second. You told us about how you and Amanda aided Valerie Solara when her husband was sick, is that right?”
He nodded.
“You have to answer out loud, please.”
He leaned toward the microphone. “Yes, that’s right.”
“And during the last year of Brian’s life, did you spend much time with Valerie and Brian?”
“Yes. They didn’t live too far from us at the time. Amanda or I would often stay overnight there, because Brian needed care around the clock and we wanted Valerie to get some sleep.”
“Did anything out of the ordinary ever happen during that time?”
“Objection,” I said.
“Overruled.”
Ellie repeated the question.
Zavy cleared his throat, gave a dodging glance at Valerie. “Yes. Something did happen one night.”
“Please tell us about that.”
He moved a little in his seat, looked uncomfortable. “Well, I was staying at their house, and Brian needed his airway cleared in the middle of the night. I took care of it, and when I left his bedroom, Valerie was standing in the hall.”
“What time of the night was this?”
“Maybe two or three in the morning.”
“Did Valerie and her husband share a bedroom at that time?”
“No, the master bedroom had been turned into a hospital room, essentially. When we were there, Valerie stayed with her daughter, Layla, in her room.”
“And where would you stay?”
“In another guest room.”
“What happened when you encountered Ms. Solara in the hallway that night?”
More shifting around in his seat. “We talked a little about Brian and what was going on with him. Then I went to move around her to go to bed, but she stopped me.”
“How did she stop you?”
“She put her hand on my arm. And then she sort of pulled me toward her.”
“What happened then?”
“She tried to kiss me.”
An intake of breath from a few of the jurors.
“What did you do?”
“I pushed her away. Gently. But she kept trying to kiss me. She said she loved me.”
I could feel some kind of energy pouring off of Valerie. I glanced at her, had no idea how to read the steely gaze she directed at Zavy.
Zavy spoke some more about how he’d rejected Valerie, how he’d felt bad for her, but he’d never been attracted to her. He had loved his wife.
“We need to talk before I cross,” I whispered to Valerie. I needed to find out if what Zavy was saying about Valerie’s seduction—alleged seduction, I should say—was true, as well as the details of that night.
But the opportunity to cross wasn’t coming anytime soon. Zavy’s testimony went on, the state’s attorneys milking it for all it was worth before turning to the issue of Propranolol, the medication Amanda took occasionally and which, ultimately, killed her. She took it for stage fright, Zavy said, testifying just as the coroner had. She occasionally made speeches in her course as a board member for various charities. When she did so, she got extremely anxious and would sometimes take a tablet of Propranolol. She often refilled the prescription, even when she didn’t need to, simply to have the medication on hand for the future.
Finally, Ellie said the magic words, “Nothing further,” and sat down.
“Any cross examination?” the judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said, �
�but we’d request a short break first.”
The judge looked at his watch. “Let’s take a break now. I’ve got a settlement conference.”
I looked into the courtroom gallery, my eyes finding Sam’s. I turned to Maggie and Valerie. “I’ll be back.”
40
I made my way to Sam, noticing the small gallery was more crowded than it had been when we started the trial.
When I reached him, he was smiling shyly. I hadn’t seen that look since the day we’d met at Forester’s party years ago. We’d been standing on Forester’s green lawn, behind his house, during the annual Pickett Enterprises’ picnic. I had shaken Sam’s hand. He had those martini olive-green eyes. And he had given me the exact shy but delighted smile he was giving me now.
“What are you doing here?” I said. Then I quickly added, “It’s great to see you.” It was the truth. I had felt my own smile somewhere inside me since I’d seen him enter the courtroom.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just excited for you when you told me about the trial. I had an appointment that was west of the city, and…” He shook his head. “Actually I didn’t. I just wanted to see you, see how things were going.”
That was exactly what he used to say every time he came to visit me in court. I just wanted to see you, see how things were going.
I was flooded with a rush of memories—Sam and me on my rooftop deck, him playing the guitar; Sam and me at the James Hotel when we got engaged; Sam and me in the bleachers at a Cubs game, sweating happily in the sun. But the euphoria of those memories, the ones which came so fast, were followed by flashes of not-so-happy memories, ones that were feelings more than images—the despair when Sam had disappeared; the wondering if he was dead; the confusion of whether I had known the real Sam Hollings or someone else altogether.
But then I blinked, took in his shy grin and all the good memories came back. And all I felt was happiness at seeing him.
“And I just wanted to let you know,” he said, “that I am figuring it out. But I don’t want you thinking about us now.”
Us, I thought. Us. I had to admit, I liked the sound of it. “Just focus on the trial,” Sam said. “On your job.”
“Well, thanks,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zavy Miller and I gestured with a thumb. “That’s the widower of the deceased.”
“Yeah, I could tell. How is Maggie going to cross him? Nice Maggie or mean Maggie?” Sam had watched Maggie in court, too, and he knew she could tailor her affect to the witness.
“She’s not. I’m crossing him.”
Again his eyes were excited. “Great. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I looked at Sam and his green, green eyes. “So, shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Yeah…” He laughed a listless laugh. “But work is…” He shrugged. “It’s work.”
“Still?” After Forester had died, Sam had been forced to take a job in the trading side of the business. He had told me that he spent his days studying volatility software, itching his index finger toward the mouse, waiting for the right moment to make the right trade at the right price. He missed his old job as a wealth management advisor. He missed dealing with people. He had loved working with Forester and his other clients, loved discussing their futures, their todays, and the ways they could best make their money work for them.
Another shrug. “Yeah, it’s a job. It’s just not an important one like yours.” He looked around the courtroom.
I did, too. Was I doing something important here? I supposed so. I was helping to ensure someone’s constitutional right to a trial by jury. But was I also defending someone who had murdered her friend? Zavy’s testimony was eating at me.
“So, do you think Maggie will give you more of these cases?” he asked.
“I hope so. I do like being back in the law.”
Sam’s eyes searched mine. “I know. I can tell.”
“You can?”
“Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”
I liked that he saw me, understood me. I wondered if Theo could say the same. But probably that was too much to expect of Theo. We’d only been together months, whereas Sam and I had years in our collective storage closet.
“I should go.” I looked at my watch. Five minutes of the break was gone. But something made me want to keep standing there in the light of Sam’s gaze.
Just then my dad appeared behind Sam. And what followed was an incredibly uncomfortable moment.
I’d been engaged to Sam. I’d been about to marry him. But back then I hadn’t known that my father was alive. The two had never met. I had no idea what to say.
I pointed at my dad, then Sam, then back again at my dad. “Christopher…Sam…Sam…Christopher.”
The two men shook hands. I could see recognition immediately in my father’s eyes. He knew who Sam was. Of course he did. But Sam clearly didn’t know who he was. He knew about my dad, he knew he’d returned to our lives. But he didn’t know what he looked like. And the name Christopher, such a common one, didn’t seem to register.
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said with a friendly voice.
Just then Maggie came up to say hi to Sam, and he turned to talk to her.
“Izzy,” my dad said, voice low. “Mayburn and I made the rounds last night.”
“I know, I talked to him.”
“No, after that. We went looking for the doctor who lived near the Millers, but first we talked to everyone who was in the neighborhood. And we found out that there wasn’t just one shouting match between Amanda and Dr. St. John. There were a number. One of them was at a block party. Another was in front of Dr. St. John’s house. There were a couple more, too. Do you want all the info?”
“No, that’s enough for now. That’ll give me something to cross Zavy with, without the jury thinking I’m beating him up.”
I was about to turn away when my dad stopped me, a hand tapping my shoulder.
“Do you want me to watch her?” he asked.
“Her who?”
“Valerie.”
“Watch her like, do I want you to do surveillance on her?”
“No, watch her in court.”
I was confused now. “What do you mean?”
“Izzy, I’m a psychologist. And when I was around—” meaning, When I was alive… “—I was a police profiler.”
“Right. So?”
“I’m trained to study people, to figure out the type of person who commits a certain type of crime and ultimately the specific person who committed a specific crime. I’ve been watching her the whole time, actually. But I need a little bit more to form a professional opinion. Do you want that opinion?”
“On whether she did it?”
He nodded.
I didn’t hesitate. I nodded, too.
Maggie walked away and Sam stepped back up to us. I took them both in—Sam, right next to my dad, shoulder to shoulder. Sam’s blond hair looked bright, youthful, compared to my dad’s graying brown hair, a vague color that seemed as if the vitality had been bled from it.
“I have to talk to Valerie,” I said.
Both nodded. Neither moved. Awkwardness reigned.
“Okay,” I said. “So…I’ll see you later.”
Sam smiled at that. My dad didn’t.
Not knowing what else to do, I turned and walked back through the Plexiglas.
When I reached our table, I looked over my shoulder and stopped, my mouth parted a little in surprise at what I saw.
Sam and my dad were talking.
41
Maggie and I took Valerie into the order room, the one where we’d talked to Martin that first day of the trial.
Valerie seemed to read my thoughts. “How is your grandfather?” she asked Maggie.
“Thanks for reminding me. I want us to call him. He seemed pretty rested when we talked this morning. He asked that I let him know what Zavy testified to.”
Valerie nodded. “Let’s call him.”
Maggie hit a button on her cell phone
and turned on the speaker. Her grandmother answered then quickly put Martin Bristol on the phone.
“Hello, ladies.” Usually, his voice was booming, lawyerly, take-charge. But this voice was smaller, weaker. “How was the testimony of Mr. Miller?” he asked.
Maggie nodded at Valerie to answer.
“It was difficult to listen to, Marty,” she said. “But it was essentially what we expected.” Her eyes moved to Maggie, who pushed the phone a little closer, then gave Martin a full rundown of the testimony, told him we were about to prepare for cross.
“Excellent,” Martin said. “Well, it sounds like you have everything taken care of.” He cleared his throat. “And that’s good. I’m feeling a bit stronger—” we all shot each other glances; he didn’t sound stronger “—but I have to do some research on a few old cases of mine.”
None of us said anything. It wasn’t typical for lawyers to dredge up old cases just for the heck of it.
“Research?” Maggie asked.
“Yes. But I’ll be keeping my eye on you ladies. In fact, I’m about to call the Illinois Crime Lab.”
Maggie’s eyebrows moved together in a confused expression.
“The place where they do DNA testing?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Was there any DNA in this case?”
“No.”
When he didn’t continue, Maggie frowned a little. “There was no DNA of importance,” she explained. “There was DNA from Valerie and Amanda in the kitchen because they prepared the meal. There was also DNA of Zavy and Amanda and their kids all over the house. Exactly what you would expect. No one is introducing any DNA evidence in this case, because there’s no value added. Right, Marty?”
“Yes, exactly right. As I said, this has to do with another case. A case I handled years ago.”
Maggie’s brow dropped lower over her eyes. When no one said anything, she spoke up. “Okay, well…let us know how things go on that.”
“Will do,” Martin said vaguely.
After we’d turned off the phone, Maggie looked at Valerie and me. “He’s never done anything like this before. I can only imagine that he must be feeling his age again, what with being sick and all. He must be reviewing his life, reviewing his work.”
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