A Good Marriage(82)
“And what if this does lead somewhere? What if Amanda’s dad says something incriminating to my investigator?”
“Then you call your fucking investigator to testify!” she shouted, though we both knew damn well that she would make it her mission to undermine said investigator on the stand. She sat back calmly, a hand on each arm of the chair, like it was a throne. “I only agreed to meet with you because I thought that you wanted to grovel for a plea deal, and I was looking forward to saying no. Instead, you come in here asking me to do your fucking job for you?” She shook her head and let out a small dismissive huff. “You want to waste your time interviewing this fucking guy, that’s up to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got actual work to do.”
“Fine,” I said as I stood. “I disagree, but obviously you have to do what you think is right.”
“Yes, obviously.”
“Though prosecutorial misconduct is reversible error. If this lead pans out, and you deliberately ignored it …” I left the rest to her imagination.
Wendy Wallace glared at me for a moment, then smiled. “I look forward to responding to that brief.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said finally before turning for the door. “This has been illuminating.”
“A word of warning,” she called after me. “Woman to woman.”
I paused and turned back.
“Be careful with Paul. He’s charming, but sooner or later he’ll dig out your heart and make you swallow it whole.”
I cocked my head. “Oh, don’t worry,” I said with a smile. “Woman to woman: I’m way too smart to fall for Paul.”
Grand Jury Testimony
TAYLOR PELLSTEIN,
called as a witness the 7th of July and was examined and testified as follows: EXAMINATION
BY MS. WALLACE:
Q: Good morning, Ms. Pellstein. Thank you for being here.
A: You told me I didn’t have a choice.
Q: You were subpoenaed to testify, that is correct.
A: Are you saying that I do have a choice?
Q: You are legally required to appear as a witness.
A: Because I really like Mr. Grayson. He’s a really good boss, and I really don’t want to lose my job.
Q: You don’t have to worry about that, Ms. Pellstein. The proceedings of the grand jury are secret.
A: So you say.
Q: No, those are the facts, Ms. Pellstein. So the law says.
A: Whatever.
Q: Let’s move on then, and get you out of here as quickly as possible. I only have a couple questions. You work for Mr. Grayson, is that correct?
A: Yes.
Q: In what capacity?
A: I’m his assistant.
Q: And what duties does that job entail?
A: I organize Mr. Grayson’s calendar, book meetings, schedule appointments, arrange travel, answer his phone.
Q: And how long have you had this job?
A: Three years.
Q: So you worked for Mr. Grayson in California?
A: Yes.
Q: Unusual to move an assistant across the country, isn’t it?
A: How would I know? I don’t have an assistant.
Q: Did you ever have occasion to speak with Mrs. Grayson?
A: Of course. Whenever she called.
Q: Did Mr. Grayson ever give you any special instructions where his wife was concerned?
A: I don’t know what you mean.
Q: Let me remind you, you’re under oath. You could be charged with perjury if you do not tell the truth. Did Mr. Grayson give you any special instructions where his wife was concerned?
A: He told me not to put her calls through.
Q: Was this on a specific occasion that Mr. Grayson told you not to put his wife’s calls through?
A: No.
Q: You were never supposed to put through her calls?
A: I was always supposed to take a message. But I want to say that I felt bad about that. Mrs. Grayson—I didn’t know her or whatever—but she seemed like a nice person. I think Mr. Grayson was just busy. It was nothing personal.
Q: You must have also felt bad that you were having an affair with Mr. Grayson, then?
A: What? I’m not having an affair with Mr. Grayson.
Q: Have you had sexual relations with Mr. Grayson?
A: Yes. But it wasn’t an affair.
Q: How many times have you had sex with Mr. Grayson?
A: I don’t know.
Q: More than once?
A: Yes. More than once.
Q: More than ten times?
A: Yes. More than ten times.
Q: More than a hundred times?
A: I don’t know. Maybe. It wasn’t like a love thing. Or a relationship. Or whatever.
Q: Why do you say that?
A: Because Zach told me that: “This is not a love thing. This is not anything.” He told me that all the time.
Amanda
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PARTY
By the time Amanda was rushing down to Blue Bottle, she was more than ten minutes late. Sarah and Maude were already seated at an outside table in the small gravel patio area, the late June morning quite warm, but not humid. One of those perfect New York City summer days that Amanda had been repeatedly warned would soon give way to an unbearable August of stifling smells and furious people. Eventually even most of the adults would be off in the Hamptons or Cape Cod or on assorted European adventures, and by the last weeks of summer, Park Slope would be rendered nearly a ghost town.