“Why?”
Lambrou sat there for a long moment. His voice was filled with anger. “Demiris treated my sister shamefully. He constantly abused and humiliated her. I wanted him punished. He needed me for an alibi. I wouldn’t give it to him.”
“And now?”
“I can’t live with a lie any longer. I feel I have to tell the truth.”
“Did you and Constantin Demiris meet at Acrocorinth that afternoon?”
“Yes, the truth is that we did.”
There was an uproar in the courtroom. Delma rose to his feet, his face pale. “Your Honor. I object…”
“Objection denied.”
Delma sank back into his seat. Constantin Demiris was leaning forward, his eyes bright.
“Tell us about that meeting. Was it your idea?”
“No. It was Melina’s idea. She tricked us both.”
“Tricked you, how?”
“Melina telephoned me and said that her husband wanted to meet me at my lodge up there to discuss a business deal. Then she called Demiris and told him that I had asked for a meeting up there. When we arrived, we found that we had nothing to say to each other.”
“And the meeting took place in the middle of the afternoon at the established time of Mrs. Demiris’s death?”
“That’s right.”
“It’s a four-hour drive from Acrocorinth to the beach house. I’ve had it timed.” Napoleon Chotas was looking at the jury. “So, there is no way that Constantin Demiris could have been at Acrocorinth at three and been back in Athens before seven.” Chotas turned back to Spyros Lambrou. “You are under oath, Mr. Lambrou. Is what you have just told this court the truth?”
“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.