Dagou also smiles at Simeon Strycker. He wants even Strycker to like him, James can see—Strycker, his enemy, who emits an untouchable indifference, a reptilian coldness.
But Strycker’s tone is casual, almost friendly. “You referred to the freezer room as your father’s ‘third office,’” he says. “What are the first and second offices?”
Dagou’s head bobs with relief. “The first office is the restaurant office, in the back. The second office, that was what we said when he was taking a dump.”
“Thank you.”
Dagou gives another little smile.
“And do you live in an apartment above the restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pay rent to your father on that apartment?”
“Well, he let me stay there in exchange—”
“Please answer yes or no, Mr. Chao,” says Judge Lopate.
“No.” Dagou lowers his head.
“Is it true that on December fourteenth of last year you signed a lease on a penthouse apartment in the Lakeside Apartments in south Haven?”
There comes a rustle of surprise from the community. Fang reaches over James and writes on the corner of Lynn’s legal pad, The dog wants a bigger house!
Strycker is saying, “… and paid a deposit plus first and last months’ rent, totaling sixty-three hundred dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Was the monthly rent on the penthouse twenty-one hundred dollars, beginning January first?”
“Yes.”
“On the morning of December twenty-second, did you ask your father if he would make you a partner at the Fine Chao?”
“Yes.”
“What was his response?”
Dagou’s expression dims. “He wouldn’t do it.”
“On the evening of December twenty-third, you drove your Toyota pickup to your father’s house. You parked the Toyota at the house and switched vehicles, taking the Ford Taurus, your father’s car, to Memorial Hospital. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you switch from your own vehicle, the Toyota, to your father’s car?”
“I left the Toyota at my dad’s because the plow was still attached.”
“Where did you drive the Ford?”
“I drove to the Spiritual House and packed a bag of clothes for my mother. Then I drove to the hospital.”
“Were you on Memorial Hospital’s fourth floor at approximately ten-thirty p.m.?”
“Yes.”
“Did you threaten to kill your father at that time?” Strycker’s voice is low, almost intimate.
“Yes.”
Strycker looks at his notes. But he could be pretending. His eyes aren’t moving; he’s not even blinking. “According to testimony, on the night of December twenty-third at ten fifty-four p.m., at the 7-Eleven convenience store, you attempted to make a purchase of one bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and lottery tickets and were unable to complete the purchase of the lottery tickets due to lack of funds. You then assaulted a customer. Is this true?”
Dagou nods. “Yeah, it’s true. I want to”—he takes a gulp of air—“apologize to her. I was in a terrible state of mind.”
“What did you do after you left the 7-Eleven?”
Dagou looks confused. “I … got back into the Ford. I drove around.”
“Where did you drive?”
“I drove to Brenda’s house. I shoveled her driveway and front path. Talked to her for a minute. Then I got back into the car and went home.”
“You say you shoveled her driveway. Where did you find the shovel?”
“In the trunk of the Ford.”
Strycker pauses almost imperceptibly. “So, on December twenty-third, at Brenda Wozicek’s house, you did look inside your father’s trunk?”
“I never knew about the cash! I had no idea!”
The judge says, “Answer the question, Mr. Chao.”
Dagou flinches visibly. “I did.”
“At that point, did you discover, in your father’s Ford, a carpetbag containing approximately fifty thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“Did you and Brenda discuss your plan to move in together and use the fifty thousand to help pay the rent on the penthouse apartment?”
“No!” Dagou yells.
“Objection!” Jerry says. “Argumentative. Assumes facts not in evidence.”
“Objection overruled—”
“I didn’t take any money! I’m not a thief!”
Strycker pauses before continuing, “Let’s move on to the morning of December twenty-fourth. Did you use cash to buy eight chickens and twelve ducks from the Shire farm on Highway 30?”
“Yes.”
“At approximately nine twenty-five a.m., did you purchase from Stanley Pardo of Haven Fine Wines and Spirits two six-bottle cases of Stolichnaya, two cases of Jack Daniel’s, a case of bourbon, a case of white wine, a case of red wine, a case of rosé, and four cases of Tsingtao beer? And a case of Korbel champagne, and a package of decorative umbrellas? Paying in cash?”
“Yes.”
“At approximately nine a.m., is it true you bought groceries from the Oriental Food Mart, paying in cash?”
“Yes.”
“How much did you spend at the Oriental Food Mart?”
Dagou stares starkly, thinking. “About six hundred dollars.”
“Where did you get the cash to pay for the alcohol and the groceries?”
“I had it, it was my money.”
“If you had the money, why did you have no cash to pay for the lottery tickets on December twenty-third?”
“Why does it matter? I had the cash all along. I didn’t want to spend it. But Ma was sick, and I spent money I had to make a good party.”
“Where did you get the money to pay for the party?”
Dagou doesn’t speak for a long moment. His lips are pursed, his forehead is rumpled. The gallery rustles with the sound of people shifting their weight.
Finally, he mutters, “It was for the ring.”
“Please speak up.”
“It was left over from Katherine,” he says, red-faced. “I used her money for the down payment on the new apartment. But I still had money left over. I was saving it so I could give it back to her. So we could be fair and square. So I could ask for the ring back. Then I could sell it for more than ten thousand. To pay the rent on the apartment.” He levels his shoulders and turns to Judge Lopate. “I may be an asshole, Your Honor, but I’m not a thief!”
“Where were you keeping the money?”
“I had it under my mattress.”
Strycker lifts his pale brows. It is like the stab of a knife. “Let’s move on,” he says, “to approximately twelve a.m., December twenty-fifth. Between approximately eleven-thirty p.m. on December twenty-fourth and twelve a.m. on December twenty-fifth, you and your father had an altercation in the restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“What was it about?”
“I said before, he called me a loser.”
“Did you fight about anything else?”
There’s a moment before Dagou answers. Only a fraction of a moment, but people glance up, noticing. “He wanted to know where I’d gotten the money for the party.”
“Did he accuse you of taking a bag containing money from his car, the night before?”
“No.”
“Did he inform you he was about to call the police on you?”
“For chrissake, no!”
Strycker pauses, allows the jury to experience Dagou’s profanity.
“During this altercation, did you wish your father dead?”
“Yes.”