Korrogly wondered if she might be restraining herself from speaking of her father’s alleged abuse – he was not afraid of the topic, yet he did not want to break her down into tears and that seemed a likelihood. He would not have minded rage; but he did not wish to make her in any way an object of sympathy. He could, he knew, always recall her.
Questioning her, even though her adversary, he felt that a strange connection had been forged between them, as if they were partners in a plot, and it was difficult to maintain a professional distance; she looked beautiful in her lacy black dress, and standing beside the witness box, inhaling her scent of heat and oranges, he began to believe that his feelings for her did run deep, that something powerful had been dredged up from beneath the years of disappointment and failure.
The close of Mirielle’s testimony was also the close of the prosecution’s case, and Judge Wymer called for a recess until the morning. Lemos, as he had throughout the proceeding, sat without displaying any emotion – a gray statement of despair – and nothing Korrogly could say had a cheering effect upon him. He had been given a haircut in jail, his sandy forelock trimmed away, his ears left totally exposed, and this, along with his loss of weight and increased pallor, made him look as if he had been the victim of a prolonged and dehumanizing abuse.
‘It’s going well,’ Korrogly told him as they sat at the defense table afterward. ‘Before today I wasn’t sure how the jury would react to our tactics, I was concerned that we didn’t have sufficient detail. But now I don’t know if we’ll need it. They want to believe you.’
Lemos grunted, traced an imperfection in the wood of the table with his forefinger.
‘Still, it would help a great deal if we could present a reason that would explain why Griaule wanted Zemaille dead,’ Korrogly went on.
‘Mirielle,’ Lemos said, ‘she didn’t seem to be as distant from me today as before. I wonder, could you ask her again to visit me?’
Korrogly felt a rippling of guilt. ‘Yes, I’ll ask her tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ Lemos looked askance at him.
‘Yes,’ said Korrogly, hurrying to cover the slip, ‘I’ll make a special trip to see her. I want you to see her, I’m in favor of anything that’ll wake you up. You’re on trial for your life, man!’
‘I know that.’
‘You don’t much act like you do. I’ll ask Mirielle to see you, but my advice is to forget about her for the time being, concentrate on the trial. Once you’re free, then you can repair the relationship.’
Lemos blinked, gazed out the window at the reddening western sky. ‘All right,’ he said listlessly.
Frustrated, Korrogly began packing up his papers.
‘I know,’ Lemos said.
‘What?’ Korrogly asked, preoccupied.
‘I know about you and Mirielle. I’ve always been able to tell who she was bedding. She looks at them differently.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! I . . .’
‘I know!’ said Lemos, suddenly energized, turning a bright stare on him. ‘I’m not a fool!’
Korrogly, taken aback, began to wonder if Mirielle’s veiled accusations of parental lust might have had substance. ‘Even if I were . . .’
‘I don’t want you to see her like that!’ Lemos gripped the edge of the table. ‘I want you to stop!’
‘We’ll talk more after you’ve calmed down.’
‘I won’t have it! Ever since she’s been old enough, men like you have taken advantage of her. This time . . .’
Korrogly slammed his case shut. ‘Now listen to me! Do you want to die? Because if you do, alienating your lawyer’s a fine first step. I promise you, if you don’t stop this right now, I’ll start treating your case with the same lack of concern you’ve shown toward it. You don’t seem to care very much about living . . . or maybe that’s just an act. If it is an act, I caution you to be temperate with me.’
Lemos sank back into his chair, looking defeated, and Korrogly felt he had at last penetrated the man’s mask. The gemcutter did care about his fate; his pose of unconcern was a fake, his entire story a lie. Which made Korrogly an accomplice. He could back out of the case, he thought, claiming to have stumbled upon new information; but given Judge Wymer’s hostility toward the defense, it might be that charges would be brought against him in any event. And he could not be sure of the matter; there was nothing sure in this case. He had become so confused by the conflicting flows of evidence that he was unable to trust his own judgments. Lemos’ perverse desire for his daughter – if that, too, was not a fraud – might have enlivened him sufficiently to react to his peril.
