Privileged Witness (21 page)

''One point two million dollars in print and broadcast,'' he said quietly.

''Thank you, Mr. Douglas.'' P.J. took the report, asked that it be entered into evidence and smiled at Tim. ''Isn't it true that there was more than four million dollars in broadcast media actually booked two months ago?''

''Yes,'' Tim answered.

''And was half of that media buy cancelled approximately 30 days ago?'' P.J. pressed.

''Yes, it was,'' he answered.

''Why was that, Mr. Douglas?'' P.J. seemed honestly curious, a convincing exercise if you couldn't see the gloat behind her eyes.

''Because. . .'' Tim began to speak but a lie was stuck in his throat so he cleared it and continued on. The lie was still there but he had amended it to a half truth. ''Because it appeared Mr. McCreary was pulling ahead of his opponent by a solid margin and the decision was made to restructure our budget, to save as much money as possible for the upcoming general election.''

''Really?'' P.J. raised a brow and plucked another piece of paper from her table. She handed it to the judge who handed it back after a cursory examination. ''People's exhibit 26 shows that, at the time that advertising budget was cancelled Mr. McCreary's lead had dwindled and the race was a virtual dead heat. Wasn't there another reason that your media budget was slashed?''

''We were waiting for an infusion of cash based on pledges that came from various fund raising events,'' Tim managed just before P.J. pounced.

''Didn't Michelle McCreary pledge the largest amount of cash?''

''Yes. She had pledged an additional three million dollars in structured loans to her husband's campaign for a total of six million all together.''

''And did you expect Mrs. McCreary to make good on that pledge?''

''No, we did not,'' Tim mumbled. P.J. took a step forward and Tim's head snapped up, ready to answer her question before she could ask it. ''Mrs. McCreary had decided not to fund as originally planned. It happens all the time. You never count on anything in politics.''

''And why did she decide not to fund, Mr. Douglas?'' P.J. backed off a little, happy to have shown this to be a sore subject.

Josie raised her hand and called out her objection. ''Goes to state of mind. The witness couldn't possibly know what Mrs. McCreary was thinking.''

P.J. restated with only a nudge from the judge.

''Did Mrs. McCreary communicate to you why she was pulling the funds from her husband's campaign?''

''No, she did not.''

''Who told you that Mrs. McCreary's money would not be forthcoming?''

Tim blinked. He swallowed hard and answered reluctantly.

''Mrs. McCreary told Grace. Grace told me. We cancelled the television and radio schedules but. . .''

''Thank you, Mr. Douglas.''

''But,'' Tim insisted, ''There were other sources of funding. . .''

''Your honor,'' P.J.'s bracelets jangled as she motioned in a dramatic plea for help from the bench.

''Mr. Douglas, answer only the prosecution's questions,'' Judge Belote instructed.

''When the defendant told you this news were you surprised?'' P.J. asked.

''Not really. No. Mrs. McCreary had never been enthusiastic about her husband's campaign.''

''Was the defendant surprised?'' P.J. asked.

''I don't know. I wasn't there when Mrs. McCreary told Grace.''

''Was the defendant angry?'' P.J. shot back.

Tim hesitated. He looked at Josie, waiting for an objection, waiting for her to change something so he didn't have to answer. But Josie's hands were tied. Tim had looked into Grace's face when she told him about the money. There was no objection to be made.

''Yes.'' He hung his head.

''How angry was the defendant,'' P.J. asked.

''Very,'' he admitted.

''Did she raise her voice?'' P.J. pressed.

''Yes.''

''To whom?''

''To her brother.''

''And what was his response?''

''I don't know. They were talking on the phone. I was in Grace's office but it wasn't a conference call.''

''But you spoke to him later about his wife's actions, did you not?''

''I did. He wasn't happy. He simply said he would deal with.''

''And what did you take it to mean when he said ‘deal with it?''

Josie was on her feet, ''Your honor, please. Calls for speculation.''

''Withdrawn.'' P.J. lumbered to the side of the witness box. ''What did the defendant do after she informed her brother that his wife was no longer helping to fund his campaign?''

''Grace took care of business. She cancelled a block of ads and television spots. She asked one of our volunteers to type the confirmations and then she left the office.''

''Do you know where she went?''

''To see Mrs. McCreary,'' Tim answered.

''Would it surprise you to find out that, on that particular day, Mrs. McCreary refused to see her sister-in-law?''

''It would surprise me, yes,'' he said quietly. ''I didn't think Mrs. McCreary would refuse Grace anything.''

''Mr. Douglas,'' Josie began. ''When did you notice a change in Mrs. McCreary's attitude toward her husband's campaign?''

''I didn't really notice a change,'' he admitted, more relaxed now that Josie was in charge. ''Mrs. McCreary was never a part of our everyday operations or planning.''

''But you did notice that she was less engaged than usual in the weeks prior to her death.''

''I did,'' Tim nodded. ''She stayed in Long Beach while Matthew traveled and Mrs. McCreary didn't call to check on her husband's schedule while he was gone.''

''Was this unusual?''

''A little. Mrs. McCreary liked to attend fund raisers where she was acquainted with most of the people who would be there. Public appearances were very controlled but she was usually curious about her husband's whereabouts.''

''If Mrs. McCreary were to find herself in an uncontrolled situation, how did she handle it?'' Josie asked.

''She became extremely agitated, very nervous. She especially hated any venue where there might be reporters around. If one of us didn't stay with her, she would leave without telling us.''

''How would she explain her behavior?''

''She didn't explain – at least not to me. Maybe she did to her husband or to Grace but the rest of us were just – staff.'' Tim struggled to find the proper word. It was difficult to explain how Michelle viewed the mundane world around her. ''Mrs. McCreary wasn't the kind of lady to explain anything to staff.''

''So, you might characterize her behavior as headstrong and erratic?'' Josie asked.

''Yes, I would.''

''Paranoid?'' Josie pressed.

''Maybe,'' Tim answered uncomfortably without looking at Matthew.

''Then were you surprised when she rescinded her agreement to help fund her husband's campaign?''

''Personally?'' Tim asked. Josie nodded. ''No. I wasn't particularly surprised. I had come to expect the unexpected from Mrs. McCreary.''

''Do you think she was unstable?''

''This witness is not a psychiatrist or a behavioral expert, your honor,'' P.J. called and Belote gave her the nod then raised an eyebrow at Josie. She rephrased.

''What was your assessment of Mrs. McCreary's worth to the campaign, Mr. Douglas.''

''Negligible, because of her unpredictability,'' he answered.

''Did the defendant share your views on Mrs. McCreary's worth to the campaign?''

''No, she did not. Grace continued to try to draw Mrs. McCreary into the daily activities of the campaign. She was convinced that Matthew didn't stand a chance without showing a strong family front. She tried everything to get Mrs. McCreary to participate in the campaign.''

''When it became clear that Mrs. McCreary would not be honoring her financial commitment, did the defendant contact her brother?''

''Yes.''

''Did she scream at him?''

''No.''

''Did she throw things?''

''No.''

''Did you hear her threaten Mrs. McCreary?''

''No.''

''What did you hear or see on the day in question?''

''From what I could hear of Grace's conversation, she was upset but she was also trying to give Mrs. McCreary the benefit of the doubt. I heard her say, ''She needs to be reassured.'' Grace said she would take care of it.''

''Do you know what the defendant was referring to?''

''No, I don't. I assumed she was talking about the campaign.''

''And after that?''

''Grace hung up and told me she was going to see her sister-in-law. She said she hoped that Mrs. McCreary wouldn't do anything stupid.''

''Do you know what the defendant was referring to with that comment?''

''I don't,'' Tim admitted.

''Did you believe the defendant was so angry that you might need to go with her to protect Mrs. McCreary?''

''No,'' he scoffed. ''She wasn't going to hurt anyone. When Grace first found out about the money, she was upset. That's all. Those two were as close as sisters. Money wasn't going to come between them.''

''Do you know of anything that could come between them?''

''No, nothing could. I'm sure of that.''

Josie thanked Tim Douglas. She could feel his relief as he vacated the witness chair. Doctor Norton, the psychiatrist who treated Michelle McCreary since her teenage years was called.

Mrs. McCreary, he stated, had deep seated difficulties with confidence, depression and paranoia. Her father's outrageously overbearing - some say abusive - behavior where women were concerned, his misuse of power, his total disregard for what his wife and daughter believed to be common decency, had colored Mrs. McCreary's view of herself and the world. Michelle was constantly attempting to atone for her father's sins by being modest and pious. The worst thing anyone could say to Michelle McCreary was that they admired her father or that she resembled him in any manner. Unfortunately, her piety could be rather rigid and she had some degree of sexual dysfunction.

Michelle's mother, beautiful like her daughter, was delicately unhinged. Alcohol was the grease that kept those hinges working as long as possible. It was Michelle who bore the burden of her father's misconduct because Michelle was placed in the public eye, appearing with her father during his campaigns, at his trials, having tea with his mistresses – in Michelle's home with her mother upstairs. Michelle was often left alone until her father trotted her out to show her off. It was no life for a child and left its mark on the woman she had become.

''Was Michelle McCreary suicidal, doctor?'' P.J. asked.

''Not when I last saw her,'' he answered.

''And when was that?''

''Three weeks before her death. She cancelled the next two appointments so I have no idea what happened in those last days.''

''Had she discussed anything with you the last time you did see her that would lead you to believe she might be thinking of taking her own life?''

''No.''

''What religion was Michelle McCreary, Doctor Norton?''

''Catholic.''

''So suicide would be a sin?''

''Indeed, it would.''

P.J. left it at that and Josie took over.

''Did you also act as Mrs. McCreary's confessor, Doctor?''

''No, I did not.''

''So you have no way of knowing if Mrs. McCreary would consider suicide a sin or if she believed God would forgive anything.''

''I do not,'' he admitted.

''Did you ever discuss suicide?'' Josie raised a brow.

''Not in so many words, but Mrs. McCreary mentioned that sometimes she thought it was just impossible for her to go on. Sometimes she felt that the world would be better off without her. There were times she mentioned that she felt that no one would notice if she was gone. All typical statements of someone who suffers from depression.''

''How many times did she make statements of that kind?''

''I would have to refer to may records.''

''For the purposes of this hearing, could you say she made them often? Almost never? Sometimes?''

''Often. I could say that. Small things could make her feel useless and unwanted.''

''Can you give us a for instance?''

''A newspaper reporter wanting an interview. Her husband requesting she stand with him on the dais during a speech,'' the doctor answered. ''For you and me these things might seem minor inconveniences. For Michelle, these were hurdles to be surmounted. Each instance could turn into a devastating replay of her father's larger than life missteps. People might find out too much about her.''

''What was there to find out?'' Josie pressed.

''I don't know. We never got that far.''

''Doctor, did you ever discuss Grace McCreary in your sessions.''

''Yes. Michelle McCreary was grateful for the defendant's friendship. She felt she was a confidant.''

''What medication was Mrs. McCreary taking, doctor?''

''She alternated between Celexa and Prozac for her depression and paranoia. She took sleeping pills.''

''Have antidepressants been proven to cause people to commit suicide?'' Josie asked.

''Studies have been done indicating children are susceptible,'' the doctor answered.

''That wasn't my question. Have antidepressants been shown to be the cause of suicide?''

''Yes, there have been studies that suggest that.''

They ended the day with a last witness. Michelle's lawyer testified that Michelle McCreary left an estate valued at more than twenty million dollars. The bulk of that was left to her husband; two million was bequeathed to Grace McCreary. However, the lawyer said, he had been in the process of revising that will when Mrs. McCreary died - a will that left nothing to either Matthew or Grace McCreary.

CHAPTER 28

There is only one promise a commander cannot keep and that is the promise of victory.

Josie heard that at a dinner party once upon a time; a party where everyone around the table excelled at something, including, but not limited to, either self love or self loathing. This pearl of wisdom had come from an otherwise rather dull man who was an undersecretary of something at the U.N. He was a strategist not given to humor or speculation. Black and white was to him what a rainbow was to a romantic heart. When questioned further he explained that the only surety of any battle – be it in war, business or personal strife – was that you could be sure of nothing and should be ready for anything.