“And they spent the night there, together, in the same room?”
“Yes, sir. They usually came for the weekend.”
“Thank you, Mr. Haritonides.” He looked at Napoleon Chotas. “Your witness.”
“No questions.”
The Chief Justice turned to the other two justices, and they whispered among themselves for a moment.
The Chief Justice looked toward Napoleon Chotas. “You have no questions for this witness, Mr. Chotas?”
“No, Your Honor. I believe his testimony. It’s a nice hotel. I’ve stayed there myself.”
The Chief Justice stared at Napoleon Chotas for a long moment. Then he turned to the prosecutor. “The state may call its next witness.”
“The state would like to call Dr. Vassilis Frangescos.”
A tall, distinguished-looking man rose and moved toward the witness box. He was sworn in.
“Dr. Frangescos, would you be good enough to tell the court what kind of medicine you practice?”
“I’m a general practitioner.”
“Is that equivalent to a family doctor?”
“It’s another way of putting it, yes.”
“How long have you been in practice, doctor?”
“Almost thirty years.”
“And you are licensed by the state, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Dr. Frangescos, was George Savalas a patient of yours?”
“Yes, he was.”
“For what period of time?”
“A little more than ten years.”
“And were you treating Mr. Savalas for any specific problem?”
“Well, the first time I saw him, he came to me because he had high blood pressure.”
“And you treated him for that.”
“Yes.”
“But you saw him after that?”
“Oh, yes. He would come to see me from time to time, when he had bronchitis, or a liver ailment—nothing serious.”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Savalas?”
“In December of last year.”
“That was shortly before he died.”
“That’s right.”
“Did he come to your office, doctor?”
“No. I went to see him at his home.”
“Do you usually make house calls?”
“Not usually, no.”
“But in this case you made an exception.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The doctor hesitated. “Well, he wasn’t in any shape to come to the office.”
“What shape was he in?”
“He had lacerations, some bruised ribs, and a concussion.”
“Was he in some kind of accident?”
Dr. Frangescos hesitated. “No. He told me he had been beaten by his wife.”
There was an audible gasp from the courtroom.
The Chief Justice said, angrily, “Mr. Chotas, aren’t you going to object to putting hearsay testimony into the record?”
Napoleon Chotas looked up and said mildly, “Oh, thank you, Your Honor. Yes, I object.”
But, of course, the damage had already been done. The jurors were now looking at the defendant with overt hostility.
“Thank you, Dr. Frangescos. No more questions.” Peter Demonides turned to Chotas and said smugly, “Your witness.”
“No questions.”
There followed a steady flow of witnesses: a maid who testified that she had seen Mrs. Savalas going into the chauffeur’s quarters on several occasions…a butler who testified that he had heard George Savalas threaten to divorce his wife and change his will…neighbors who had heard the noisy arguments between the Savalases.
And still Napoleon Chotas had no questions for any of the witnesses.
The net was fast closing in on Anastasia Savalas.
Peter Demonides could already feel the glow of victory. In his mind’s eye he could see the headlines in the newspapers. This trial was going to be the fastest murder trial in history. This trial could even end today, he thought. The great Napoleon Chotas is a beaten man.
“I would like to call Mr. Niko Mentakis to the stand.”
Mentakis was a thin, earnest young man, with a slow and careful manner of speech.
“Mr. Mentakis, would you tell the court your occupation, please?”
“Yes, sir. I work at a nursery.”
“You take care of children?”
“Oh, no, sir. It’s not that kind of nursery. We have trees and flowers, and all kinds of plants.”
“Oh, I see. So you are an expert on growing things.”
“I should be. I’ve been at it for a long time.”
“And I presume that a part of your job is to make sure that the plants you have for sale stay healthy?”
“Oh, yes, sir. We take very good care of them. We wouldn’t sell any ailing plants to our customers. Most of them are regulars.”