“No.”
“No?” He drew his head back, as though mildly stung. “Three million is a lot of money. Didn’t it cross your mind that it could come in handy?”
“I’m not a businesswoman. I have no idea how much money the business needs to put it back on its feet.”
“Wouldn’t you haveguessedthat three million might do it?”
“I never thought about it.”
“Think about it now. Doesn’t three million sound tempting—”
“Objection,” Savannah called. “The question is irrelevant.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
Woodward went smoothly on. “Had you ever heard of Matty Stavanovich before that January day when you brought your car into his shop?”
“Yes.”
“In what context?”
“He’d worked on the cars of several of my friends.”
“Had you ever heard of him in any other context?”
“Yes.”
“And what context was that?”
“There were articles in the paper linking him to burglaries that have been committed in different areas of the state.”
Woodward gave a solemn nod. “Did you think he was a thief?”
“He was never brought to trial.”
“But did you think he might be guilty?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t have brought my car to him.”
Turning his back on the witness stand, Woodward walked leisurely toward where Stavanovich sat at the defense table. Just shy of it, he pivoted to face her again, raising his voice to cover the added distance. “Is it not true, Mrs. Vandermeer, that, knowing the stories that had been widely circulated about the defendant, you figured he’d be a perfect patsy?”
“No,” Megan said.
“After you left your car with him that first time, didn’t the wheels in your mind start turning? Didn’t it occur to you that Stavanovich might be just the guy you needed?”
Megan stared at him with a look of disgust on her face.
“Did it not occur to you, Mrs. Vandermeer, that your own tracks would be covered if you let a suspected crook take the fall?”
“No.”
“Didn’t the convenience of it strike you? You could pass money and messages back and forth simply by bringing your car in for servicing. Didn’t that cross your mind?”
“No.”
Woodward paused, straightened, put one hand in his trouser pocket and came slowly closer. “Refresh our memory, Mrs. Vandermeer. How long have you been married?”
“Six years.”
