He lay on his back, watching frail shadows of the mist coiling across the white ceiling, thinking about Lemos; he could accept nothing, believe nothing. That the gemcutter had molested his daughter seemed both apparent and unlikely, as was the case with his guilt and innocence. He did not doubt that Mirielle believed her father had abused her; but while he loved her, he was not assured of her stability, and thus her beliefs were in question. And in question also were her motives in being with him. He found it difficult to accept that she was anything but sincere in her responses; her reluctance to voice a commitment seemed clear evidence of the inner turmoil he was causing her. Still, he could not wholly reject the notion that she was using him . . . though for what reason he had no idea. He was walking across quicksand, in shadows, with inarticulate voices calling to him from every direction.
‘You’re worrying about something,’ she said. ‘Don’t . . . it’ll be all right.’
‘Between us?’
‘Is that what you’re worrying about?’
‘Among other things.’
‘I can’t promise you that you’ll like what will happen,’ she said. ‘But I will try with you.’
He started to ask her why she was going to try, what she had found that would make her want something with him; but he reminded himself of her caution against pushing her.
‘You’re still worrying,’ she said.
‘I can’t stop.’
‘Yes, you can.’ Her hand slid down across his chest, his belly, kindling a slow warmth. ‘That much I can promise.’
Against Korrogly’s objections, the case for the prosecution was reopened the following morning and Mirielle recalled to the stand. Mervale offered into evidence a sheaf of legal documents, which proved to have been signed by Mardo Zemaille and witnessed by Mirielle, and constituted a last will and testament, deeding the temple and its grounds to Mirielle on the event of the priest’s death. Mervale had unearthed the papers from the city archives and produced ample evidence to substantiate that the signatures were authentic and that the papers were legal.
‘How much would you say the properties mentioned in the will are worth?’ Mervale asked Mirielle, who was wearing a high-collared dress of blue velvet.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Would it be inaccurate to say that they’re worth quite a large sum of money? A sizeable fortune?’
‘The witness has already answered the question,’ said Korrogly.
‘Indeed she has,’ said Judge Wymer, with a stern look at Mervale, who shrugged, stepped to the prosecution table, and offered into evidence the tax assessor’s report on the properties.
‘Did your father know of this will?’ Mervale asked after the exhibits had been marked.
Mirielle murmured, ‘Yes.’
Korrogly glanced at Lemos, who appeared not to be listening.
‘And how did he come to know about them?’
‘I told him.’
‘On what occasion?’
‘He came to the temple.’ She drew in breath sharply, let it out slowly, as if ordering herself. ‘He wanted me to leave the cult, he said that once Mardo tired of me he would drop me and then the family would be without a penny. The shop would be gone . . . everything.’ She drew in another breath. ‘He made me angry. I told him about the will, I said that Mardo had taken care of me far better than he had. And he said that he’d have me declared incompetent. He said he’d get a lawyer and take everything Mardo left me.’
‘Do you know if he ever did see a lawyer?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘And was that lawyer’s name Artis Colari?’
‘Yes.’
Mervale picked up more papers from his table. ‘Mister Colari is currently trying another case and cannot attend this proceeding. However, I have here a deposition wherein he states that he was approached by the defendant two weeks before the murder with the intent of having his daughter declared mentally incompetent for reasons of instability caused by her abuse of drugs.’ He smiled at Korrogly. ‘Your witness.’
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.’
