“Mr. George Savalas?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And would you tell us how long you were employed by Mr. Savalas?”
“Twenty-five years.”
“My, that’s a long time. Were you fond of your employer?”
“He was a saint.”
“Were you employed by Mr. Savalas during his first marriage?”
“Yes, sir. I was at the graveside with him when his wife was buried.”
“Would it be fair to say that they had a good relationship?”
“They were madly in love with each other.”
Peter Demonides looked over at Napoleon Chotas, waiting for his objection to the line of questioning. But Chotas remained in his seat, apparently lost in thought.
Peter Demonides went on. “And were you in Mr. Savalas’s employ during his second marriage, to Anastasia Savalas?”
“Oh, yes, sir. I certainly was.” She spat the words out.
“Would you say that it was a happy marriage?” Again he glanced at Napoleon Chotas, but there was no reaction.
“Happy? No, sir. They fought like cats and dogs.”
“Did you witness any of these fights?”
“A person couldn’t help it. You could hear them all over the house—and it’s a big house.”
“I take it these fights were verbal, rather than physical? That is, Mr. Savalas never struck his wife?”
“Oh, it was physical all right. But it was the other way around, it was the madam who struck him. Mr. Savalas was getting on in years, and the poor man had become frail.”
“You actually saw Mrs. Savalas strike her husband?”
“More than once.” The witness looked over at Anastasia Savalas, and there was grim satisfaction in her voice.
“Mrs. Lykourgos, on the night Mr. Savalas died, which members of the staff were working in the house?”
“None of us.”
Peter Demonides let his voice register surprise. “You mean in a house that you say was so large, not one member of the staff was there? Didn’t Mr. Savalas employ a cook, or a maid…a butler…?”
“Oh, yes, sir. We had all of those. But the madam told everyone to take that night off. She said she wanted to cook dinner for her husband herself. It was going to be a second honeymoon.” The last remark was said with a snort.
“So Mrs. Savalas got rid of everybody?”
This time it was the Chief Justice who looked over at Napoleon Chotas, waiting for him to object. But the attorney sat there, preoccupied.
The Chief Justice turned to Demonides. “The prosecutor will stop leading the witness.”
“I apologize, Your Honor. I’ll rephrase the question.”
Demonides moved closer to Mrs. Lykourgos. “What you are saying is that on a night when members of the staff ordinarily would be in the house, Mrs. Savalas ordered everyone to leave so that she could be alone with her husband?”
“Yes, sir. And the poor man was suffering from a terrible cold.”
“Did Mrs. Savalas often cook dinner for her husband?”
Mrs. Lykourgos sniffed. “Her? No, sir. Not her. She never lifted a finger around the house.”
And Napoleon Chotas sat there, listening as though he were merely a spectator.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lykourgos. You’ve been very helpful.”
Peter Demonides turned to Chotas, trying to conceal his satisfaction. Mrs. Lykourgos’s testimony had had a perceptible effect on the jury. They were casting disapproving glances at the defendant. Let’s see the old man try to get around that. “Your witness.”
Napoleon Chotas glanced up. “What? Oh, no questions.”
The Chief Justice looked at him in surprise. “Mr. Chotas…you don’t wish to cross-examine this witness?”
Napoleon Chotas rose to his feet. “No, Your Honor. She seems like a perfectly honest woman.” He sat down again.
Peter Demonides could not believe his good fortune. My God, he thought, he’s not even putting up a fight. The old man’s finished. Demonides was already savoring his victory.
The Chief Justice turned to the prosecuting attorney. “You may call your next witness.”
“The state would like to call Josef Pappas.”
A tall, good-looking, dark-haired young man rose from the spectators’ bench and walked toward the witness box. He was sworn in.
Peter Demonides began. “Mr. Pappas, would you please tell the court your occupation?”
“I’m a chauffeur.”
“Are you employed at the moment?”
“No.”
“But you were employed until recently. That is, you were employed until the death of George Savalas.”