Chapter 17: Under Oath

Wyatt got out of bed without bothering to find his shirt.

He walked to the door in his trousers and stood between me and my husband, and he took the paper out of Conrad's hand and read it.

"The order covers the manor and the cellars," he said. "It doesn't name the cottage."

"She's trespassing."

"She's in bed with her tenant, Conrad. It's a lease matter." Wyatt held the paper out. "Get off the grass."

Conrad stood there, red to the ears, and I pulled the blanket up and said nothing at all.

He went, and he left the door open behind him.

On Monday at nine I sat in the front row of a Napa courtroom with a hundred people behind me.

Reporters filled the back benches, and the wine club had come in a body.

Lillian sat alone in the gallery behind Conrad's table, in navy, with her handbag on her knee.

The judge came in, and everyone stood, and the doctor was called first.

He was a gray, careful man in a pinstriped suit, and he put his hand on the Bible without looking at anyone.

Our lawyer rose.

"Doctor, your evaluation states that you examined Ms. Quintero at length on Wednesday evening, in the manor. Is that correct?"

"I reviewed her file."

"That isn't what you wrote. Did you see her?"

"I..." He looked at Conrad's table, then at the judge. "No."

A sound went through the room.

"Who asked you to write that you had?"

"Mr. Ashbury's lawyer. It was a template for the petition."

"And the first prescription, five years ago. Who asked for it?"

The doctor did not answer for a while.

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