Love Is a Four-Legged Word (28 page)

Maddy felt a warm buzz of pride. Tom was a hotshot corporate lawyer. This was the first—and he’d vowed the last—time he’d represented a dog in the San Francisco County superior court. She knew he feared he would expose himself to ridicule in the legal community.

Yet for Brutus’s sake he was determined to defend the authenticity of Walter’s will against Jerome’s challenge. That showed honor. And she loved him the more for it.

The judge nodded. “All right, Counselor, I’ll allow it. But the first sign of trouble and the dog is out.”

Tom settled back in his seat. Maddy didn’t dare look at him. Jerome was sure to malign her as a woman no better than a hooker. She didn’t want to send out even the faintest signal that she’d spent last night in opposing counsel’s bed. And the night before. And the night before that.

Instead she bent her head to Brutus’s ear. “Please behave, little guy,” she whispered under her breath. “Don’t let your leader of the pack down.”

Short of doping him again with Snowball’s leftover tranquilizers, she’d done everything possible to ensure Brutus would make a good impression in court.

She’d groomed him with a soothing lavender and chamomile spray. She’d dosed him with a calming herbal tonic. She’d even considered the doggy diaper route in case Brutus decided to make his mark on the courtroom. But the logistics of fitting him with a doggy diaper for the first time seemed way too daunting. Instead she’d walked Brutus around the Civic Center Plaza outside the courthouse and let him lift his leg until there could not possibly be a drop left.

Her precautions appeared to have worked. Against all expectations, Brutus sat as docile as could be on her lap. He didn’t even chew on his toy gorilla. Rather, ears alert, he rested his head on his front paws and looked straight ahead.

Maddy could only wonder if her canine buddy felt as intimidated as she did by the scary new experience of being in court.

She shivered, in spite of her long-sleeved jacket. She hated the fact that the probate court was open to the public and the gallery behind her was packed with press.What scandalous new headlines could she expect? What innuendo-laden television reports?

Worse, every time she looked up, she seemed to catch Jerome’s eye from where he sat at the next table. And each time he smiled, with a polite baring of those toothpaste-commercial-perfect teeth. Did no one else notice that the smile never reached his too-blue eyes?

 

 

 

Jerome Stoddard was sly as a fox all right, thought Tom. No way would the court guess what kind of guy the Englishman really was. The mask of courteous charm fit so perfectly in place it forced from Tom a kind of grudging admiration for his opponent. Followed by a fierce determination to wrench it away and expose Stoddard for the contemptible lowlife he was.

The judge called on the plaintiff’s attorney to make her opening statement. Zoe Wong was whip thin with a sharp, intelligent face framed by a cap of glossy black hair. Tom knew her by reputation—and it was excellent.

She addressed the bench. “Your Honor, my client, Jerome Anthony Stoddard, contends he was unfairly excluded from the last will and testament of his great-great-great-uncle, the late Walter Stoddard. He contests the will on the grounds that his uncle lacked mental capacity at the time it was executed.”

She paused for dramatic effect before she continued. “He also asserts that his uncle was under the undue influence of the major beneficiary of the will, Madeleine Grace Cartwright.”

Maddy gasped out loud. Tom shot her a warning glance. There would be worse to come and he had briefed her to try not to react. He wished she didn’t have to hear the hum of interest from the public gallery.

The judge addressed Tom. “And what is your position, Counselor?”

Tom stood. “I intend to prove that the late Walter Stoddard was of sound mind when his last will and testament was executed, that it reflected his true wishes for the dispersal of his estate, and that he did not consider Jerome Stoddard to be in any way his heir.”

Tom took his seat at the defense table, as careful as Maddy had been not to make eye contact. He waited for the judge to call the first witness for the plaintiff.

Not surprisingly, it was Jerome Stoddard himself.

He was dressed in an immaculate, judge-pleasing dark suit. Tom noticed, with no small degree of satisfaction, that he was limping—no doubt from Snowball’s killer grip on his thigh.

When Stoddard took the stand, his crisply modulated voice oozed sincerity. “I met my uncle Walter for the first time just six weeks before his death.”

“Did your uncle appear in good health?” his attorney asked.

Stoddard assumed an expression of gravity that made Tom grit his teeth with disgust at his hypocrisy. But he suspected it looked good to the judge. “Sadly, no. Physically he appeared quite robust for a man of his years. However, his mental health was another matter altogether. Quite frankly, I considered him to be stark raving bonkers.”

Again Maddy gasped audibly. Tom thought he also heard the beginnings of a faint, menacing growl rumbling from Brutus.

“What made you draw that conclusion, Mr. Stoddard?” Zoe Wong asked.

“On the afternoon we first met, he had just held a birthday party for his dog. With a cake and candles. And a number of canine guests. At the time of my visit the dog was still wearing its party hat.”

“So?”Tom heard Maddy hiss under her breath. “That’s hardly a sign of insanity in California.”

“He was forgetful. Vague. Unable to recall details of his earlier life. I had a feeling he was not all there. Sad, really.”

“Any further evidence of your uncle’s instability, Mr. Stoddard?”

“Surely the wording of the will is evidence enough? He left his millions to a dog, for God’s sake. How much crazier can you get?”

Tom leapt to his feet. “Objection! Under law a dog is considered property. Property cannot be bequeathed property. Mr. Stoddard left his residuary estate in trust and appointed a guardian to administer for the care of his dog and to inherit the remaining funds when the trust expired.”

“Objection sustained,” said Judge Eaton.

Zoe Wong resumed her examination. “What can you tell us about your uncle’s relationship with Madeleine Cartwright?” she asked Stoddard.

“I didn’t actually meet the woman. However, I very quickly became suspicious that she was using sexual favors to manipulate him.”

“Did you see any evidence of that?”

Jerome pulled a fastidious face. “Please. A man his age with a girl like that. Just the thought nauseated me, let alone the idea of actually watching—”

Tom leapt to his feet again. “Objection.”

“Objection sustained,” said the judge.

“So sorry,” said Jerome with a saccharine smile. “I withdraw my comment.”

“No further questions,” said Zoe Wong. “Your witness, Mr. O’Brien.”

Tom was more than prepared to do battle. He squared his shoulders, drew himself up to his full height, and set his expression to stern. Then he started his cross-examination. “Mr. Stoddard, how do you explain this clause in Walter Stoddard’s will?”

He read out the exact words. “To my distant relative Jerome Stoddard I leave nothing. For years I financed his tuition at an elite private school in England. Recently I gifted him the sum of ten thousand dollars. I consider I have discharged any obligation to him.”

Stoddard shrugged. “I see that as further evidence of my uncle being coerced by his young mistress to ignore the rights of a legal heir. He was a foolish, mad old man.”

The sound of deep, vicious growling was now unmistakable. Alarm gripped Tom. He whipped around to see Brutus straining against Maddy’s hold. Hackles raised and ears flat, the dog’s gaze was directed at Stoddard. His lips were pulled right back in a snarl. Even on a comical little dog like Brutus, the wolflike effect of his teeth was frightening.

There was a collective gasp from the court.

Maddy’s eyes were huge with an appeal for help as she pulled desperately on the leash to hold the enraged animal. But before Tom could reach her, Brutus broke free.

He jumped over the defendant’s table and, trailing his leash, scampered on his stumpy, turned-out legs to the base of the witness stand. There he looked up at Stoddard and erupted into loud, rapid-fire barking.

Stoddard’s mask slipped momentarily. His eyes glittered with hostility and his lip curled in an approximate imitation of Brutus’s snarl before his urbane expression slid back into place. Then he rolled his eyes heavenward in a blatant attempt to discredit Tom. He affected a laugh.

Judge Eaton banged her gavel. “Control your witness, Mr. O’Brien, or it will be evicted from this courtroom.”

Tom marched toward the dog. “Brutus,” he said in his most commanding, alpha-male voice. Brutus stopped barking and looked up at him. Then he turned back to Stoddard and started to bark again.

“Brutus. Heel.”

Brutus ceased his racket. He whined. He looked up at Tom with mournful button eyes. He put up his paw to shake. He whimpered. Then he rolled over on his back, showing his brindle tummy, tail thumping on the courtroom floor.

Tom heard a smothered laugh from Zoe Wong and titters from the gallery. He would never, ever live this down. What did this performance mean for his hopes at Jackson, Jones, and Gentry?

The only person who didn’t seem to find Brutus’s performance amusing was the judge.

Tom gritted his teeth and picked Brutus up. He nodded to the bench. “My apologies, Your Honor.” He would look more and more ridiculous as the hearing went on if Brutus continued to object like this to Stoddard’s answers.

“No further questions,” he said. Then he stalked back to the defendant’s table and dumped Brutus back in Maddy’s lap.

 

 

 

To Maddy’s horror the plaintiff’s next witness was a middle-aged man of Walter’s acquaintance.

She’d met him just the once. She had been upstairs at Walter’s house cooking dinner. His visitor had followed her into the kitchen and attempted to fondle her ass. When she’d slapped his hand away, he’d made lewd suggestions that made her want to swing a saucepan at him. Now she felt sick to her stomach as she heard the man swear on oath that she had enjoyed a sexual liaison with Walter.

Cheeks flushed scarlet, she could only do exactly as Tom had instructed and keep her head down. Thank heaven she had Brutus to hug close for comfort and her lucky pony in her purse. She swore she could hear the collective scratching of the reporter’s pens on paper as they recorded her humiliation. This was so unfair. Not for the first time, she cursed Jerome.

She longed to stick her fingers in her ears to block out the testimonies of the rest of Jerome’s witnesses. Where had he dug up these horrible people who were so willing to swear she was a ruthless, gold-digging skank?

But finally the hearing took a turn for the better. Tom’s witnesses were altogether of a different ilk.

First was Walter’s family doctor, one of the witnesses to the will. In brisk, no-nonsense terms he attested that Walter’s official cause of death was bronchial pneumonia. But while his patient had faded physically, in the doctor’s opinion Walter was mentally alert and fully compos mentis until the very end.

“Walter played bridge until the last week of his life and did the newspaper crossword every day.”

Tom asked the doctor if Walter was on any medication.

“Yes,” he said, “for several years Walter took medication to control high blood pressure.”

“Were there any side effects of this medication?”

“Yes. A common side effect is impotence.” The doctor glared at Jerome. “Walter was not capable of having an affair even if he’d wanted to.”

Yes! Maddy took great pleasure in the chorus of indrawn breaths that greeted the doctor’s statement.

Poor Walter, imagine having an intimate health detail like that broadcast in court. But personally she felt like cheering at its vindication of her. She brightened even more when she noticed a corresponding lack of cheer on Jerome’s face.

Tom’s next expert witness was a prominent psychiatrist, the other witness to the will. He also testified to Walter’s mental competence.

Things were definitely looking up for the good guys.

Tom called his third witness. Much to Maddy’s bemusement, it was Helen O’Brien, elegant as ever in a gray silk suit.

“Mrs. O’Brien,” Tom asked, “how much time did you spend at Walter Stoddard’s house in the last weeks of his life?”

“Our church drew up a rotating roster so Walter was never left alone. I was often there.”

Maddy wondered how Tom could keep a straight face, addressing his mom so formally. And how would Helen refrain from mommy speak when answering her son’s questions?

Still, who else had taken such a Christian interest in Walter’s welfare? Helen had filled twice the number of slots on the church care roster than anyone else.

“Did you observe Mr. Stoddard’s relationship with his dog?” Tom asked his mother.

“Brutus was Walter’s dog kid. He adored him. I firmly believe caring for Brutus was the reason Walter kept going for as long as he did.”

“Did he ever refer to his fears for Brutus’s future once he, Walter, had passed away?”

“He was very concerned.”

“What was Mr. Stoddard’s relation to Madeleine Cartwright?”

“Maddy was his tenant. She lived in the apartment below his house. Maddy was a breath of fresh air in Walter’s life. In my opinion, the vitality of youth is very refreshing for a person nearing the end of their years.”

“Did you suspect a sexual relationship between Mr. Stoddard and his tenant?”

Tom’s mother flushed. “Certainly not!” She waved her arm to indicate Jerome. “That . . . that creature should be put down for suggesting it.”

“Objection!” said Zoe Wong.