Memories of Midnight

"Yes. So help me God."

Napoleon Chotas swiveled his chair toward the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he rasped, "there is only one verdict you can possibly reach." They were straining forward to catch his words. "Not quilty. If the State had claimed that the defendant had hired someone to kill his wife, then there might have been some small measure of doubt. But, on the contrary, their whole case is based upon so-called evidence that the defendant was in that room, that he himself murdered his wife. The learned justices will instruct you that in this trial two essential elements must be proven: motive and opportunity.

"Not motive or opportunity, but motive and opportunity. In law, they are Siamese twins – inseparable. Ladies and gentlemen, the defendant may or may not have had a motive, but this witness has proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that the defendant was nowhere near the scene of the crime when it occurred."

The jury was out for four hours. Constantin Demiris watched as they filed back into the courtroom. He looked pale and anxious. Chotas was not looking at the jury. He was looking at Constantin Demiris’s face. Demiris’s aplomb and arrogance were gone. He was a man facing death.

The Chief Justice asked, "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor." The jury foreman held up a piece of paper.

"Would the bailiff get the verdict, please."

The bailiff walked over to the juror, took the piece of paper, and handed it to the judge. He opened the piece of paper and looked up. "The jury finds the defendant not guilty."

There was pandemonium in the courtroom. People were getting to their feet, some of them applauding, some of them hissing.

The expression on Demiris’s face was ecstatic. He took a deep breath, rose, and walked over to Napoleon Chotas. "You did it," he said. "I owe you a lot."

Chotas looked into his eyes. "Not anymore. I’m very rich and you’re very poor. Come on. We’re going to celebrate."

Constantin Demiris pushed Chotas’s wheelchair through the milling crowd, out past the reporters, to the parking lot. Chotas pointed to a sedan parked at the entrance. "My car’s over there."

Demiris wheeled him up to the door. "Don’t you have a chauffeur?"

"I don’t need one. I had this car specially fitted so I could drive it myself. Help me in."

Demiris opened the door and lifted Chotas into the driver’s seat. He folded the wheelchair and put it in the backseat. Demiris got into the car next to Chotas.

"You’re still the greatest lawyer in the world," Constantin Demiris smiled.

"Yes." Napoleon Chotas put the car in gear and started to drive. "What are you going to do now, Costa?"

Demiris said carefully, "Oh, I’ll manage to get by somehow." With a hundred million dollars I can build up my empire again. Demiris chuckled. "Spyros is going to be pretty upset when he finds out how you tricked him."

"There’s nothing he can do about it," Chotas assured him. "The contract he signed gives him a company that’s worthless."

They were headed toward the mountains. Demiris watched as Chotas moved the levers that controlled the gas pedal and the brake. "You handle this very well."

"You learn to do what you have to," Chotas said. They were climbing up a narrow mountain road.

"Where are we going?"

"I have a little house at the top here. We’ll have a glass of champagne and I’ll have a taxi take you back to town. You know, Costa, I’ve been thinking. Everything that’s happened…Noelle’s death and Larry Douglas’s death. And poor Stavros. None of it was about money, was it?" He turned to glance at Demiris. "It was all about hate. Hate and love. You loved Noelle."

"Yes," Demiris said. "I loved Noelle."

"I loved her too," Chotas said. "You didn’t know that, did you?"

Demiris looked at him in surprise. "No."

"And yet I helped you murder her. I’ve never forgiven myself for that. Have you forgiven yourself, Costa?"

"She deserved what she got."

"I think in the end we all deserve what we get. There’s something I haven’t told you, Costa. That fire – ever since the night of that fire, I’ve been in excruciating pain. The doctors tried to put me back together again, but it didn’t really work. I’m too badly crippled." He pushed a lever that speeded up the car. They were starting to move fast along hairpin curves, climbing higher and higher. The Aegean Sea appeared far below them.

"As a matter of fact," Chotas said hoarsely, "I’m in so much pain that my life really isn’t worth living anymore." He pushed the lever again, and the car began to move faster.

"Slow down," Demiris said. "You’re going too…"

"I’ve stayed alive this long for you. I’ve decided that you and I are going to end it together."

Demiris turned to stare at him, horrified. "What are you talking about? Slow down, man. You’ll kill us both."

"That’s right," Chotas said. He moved the lever again. The car leaped forward.

"You’re crazy!" Demiris said. "You’re rich. You don’t want to die."

Chotas’s scarred lips turned into a horrific imitation of a smile. "No, I’m not rich. You know who’s rich? Your friend, Sister Theresa. I’ve given all your money to the convent at Ioannina."

They were racing toward a blind curve on the steep mountain road.

"Stop the car!" Demiris screamed. He tried to wrest the wheel from Chotas but it was impossible.

"I’ll give you anything you want," Demiris yelled. "Stop!"

Chotas said, "I have what I want."