Tanner nodded.
‘Mr Murphy?’ the judge said, looking at him with his eyebrows raised, and putting his glasses back on.
‘We consider this application to be within the trial, your Honour.’
The judge shook his head. ‘No, Mr Murphy. I don’t think that’s right. We don’t have a jury yet.’
‘Well, to preserve our position, I’ll have my objection noted for the record.’
‘Very well,’ the judge said. ‘Mr Tanner?’
‘I asked you what Nikki told you the reason was for her seeing Sally Cook?’
‘There was more than one.’
‘Let’s go one by one, then. What was the first complaint Nikki made to you about her marriage?’
‘She was bored. Nikki was a smart girl. She wanted to do something other than modelling, but once she was married, she couldn’t.’
‘She couldn’t?’
‘John didn’t like it.’
‘I see. What else did she want to do?’
‘She didn’t know. She thought about study, maybe doing something in PR – her own business. It never really took off. John wouldn’t help her. And she . . . she had a few issues with drugs. Rehab, a relapse. That set her back.’
‘I’ll come back to that,’ Tanner said. ‘Was that unhappiness the main reason she went to her lawyer?’
Amanda shook her head. ‘He was seeing other women.’
‘Did she tell you how she knew that?’
‘She had him followed.’
‘Who by?’
‘An investigator.’
‘Did she tell you anything else about that?’
‘She told me her lawyer advised her to do it. Sally told her.’
‘Did Nikki give any other reason for wanting to divorce John?’
She nodded. ‘He was violent.’
Tanner waited a few seconds to let that answer sit with the judge before continuing. ‘What did she tell you about that?’
‘It was more . . .’ She hesitated, thinking about her answer. ‘She said he was a bully. He’d – she said she felt abandoned by him the second time she’d come out of rehab. He didn’t – I don’t think he hit her regularly, or anything like that, it was more . . . sometimes if she was having fun, he was, she said he was menacing – she used that word. She also told me about the night she told him she wanted a divorce.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘He started to strangle her. She thought – she told me she thought he was going to kill her. She said she was about to pass out. She took photos of her neck after, to show the bruising.’
‘Did you see the photos?’
Amanda nodded. ‘She showed them to me from the email she’d sent Sally.’
‘Sally Cook?’
‘She told me Sally had told her to take them.’
‘Did she give any other reason for wanting a divorce, that you recall?’
She nodded. ‘She said she didn’t love him.’
‘I guess that’s a good reason.’
‘She . . . by the end, she told me she really didn’t like him at all.’
‘Did she have any further discussions with you that involved Ms Cook?’
‘She told me she’d signed a pre-nuptial agreement before she married John. She said that Sally had told her she could get a better deal for her in a divorce, provided . . . well, that’s why she said Sally wanted John filmed, and it was why she told her to take photos of her injuries. She said that Sally had told her to make a complete list of everything, all the mean or worse things John had done in their marriage, introducing her to drugs she –’
‘Just stop there,’ Tanner said. He wanted this evidence about drugs in, but he had to control and contain it. He wanted to leave some surprises for when John Richter gave his evidence.
‘What drugs are you talking about?’
‘John took heroin for a while. She got hooked on it after that.’
‘And did she say she’d had any discussion with Sally Cook about that?’
‘Just that Sally told her to make notes about it all.’
‘Okay,’ Tanner said. ‘Is there anything else you can recall about what Nikki said Ms Cook had told her.’
‘I remember she told me that the lawyer had said you – to get a legal divorce, you have to have been separated for twelve months or more. I forget the exact term. Nikki told me Sally thought that she’d already – I’m not sure if “qualified” is the right word – but she said Sally told her they’d already been separated for more than twelve months, even though he still lived in their apartment. They weren’t living like a couple, or something like that.’
‘So she didn’t have to wait to apply to the court for a divorce?’
‘Nikki told me Sally said they could file whatever you need to right away. That’s what she was planning to do just before she died.’
‘When exactly did she say her lawyer had advised her this? Do you recall?’
‘Not the precise day, but very close to when she died. Within days.’
‘You spoke that week?’
‘She rang me to invite me to a birthday party with her. She filled me in on the latest . . . the advice she’d received. She said she was going to tell me more at the party.’
‘She didn’t make it to the party?’
Amanda nodded.
‘You need to say “yes” for the transcript.’
‘She died that night.’
Tanner nodded, and pretended to look at his notes. ‘Did she sound to you . . . the last time she spoke to you, or the times just before that, like someone likely to overdose?’
‘I object,’ Murphy said. The objection was in stereo, as Richard Aitken shouted the same words, even though he was technically not involved in the argument.
‘I think I just woke Mr Aitken up, your Honour,’ Tanner said.
‘That question is disallowed, Mr Tanner.’
‘If it pleases the court,’ he said. ‘That’s all I have for the witness.’
The judge glared at Tanner for a moment longer than normal. ‘Yes, Mr Murphy,’ he said, while still looking at Tanner.
‘You said that you met Ms Cook once, is that right?’ Murphy’s first question left his mouth before he’d fully stood.
‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t sit in during the conference she had with Mrs Richter.’
‘No. Ms Cook said that she didn’t –’
‘The answer is no?’
‘No.’
‘And you’ve never heard Ms Cook give any form of advice to Mrs Richter?’
‘Heard myself? No.’
‘And you were never a party to Mrs Richter giving any instructions to Ms Cook concerning her marriage?’
‘I wasn’t present, if that’s what you mean?’
‘And Mrs Richter didn’t show you any correspondence she’d received from Ms Cook, did she?’
‘No.’
‘In fact, you haven’t seen any document that forms part of Mrs Richter’s file with the law firm Sally Cook & Associates, have you?’
Amanda paused, just as Tanner had told her to if she needed time to think about an answer. ‘I don’t think that’s right,’ she finally said.
Tanner looked at Murphy. What he’d been expecting was another no. He couldn’t let the answer hang though, or Tanner could take control in re-examination.
‘Is there a reason for your hesitancy, Miss Weatherill?’ Murphy asked.
‘Is a photo a document? I think I’ve read somewhere that it is?’
Clever girl, Tanner thought.
‘Leaving aside any photographs, no other documents from the legal file?’
‘No.’
‘Just on legal matters, Miss Weatherill, you’re aware that before her wedding, Mrs Richter signed a pre-nuptial agreement with Mr Richter?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know what I mean by a pre-nuptial agreement?’
‘I think so.’
‘Among other things, it can
be an agreement limiting the amount of money that one spouse might have to pay the other in the event of divorce. You understand that?’
‘Yes.’
‘You know that Mr Richter comes from a wealthy family?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you understood that Mrs Richter was attempting to obtain a financial settlement from any divorce from Mr Richter that was well in excess –’
‘I object,’ Tanner said.
‘Yes, Mr Tanner?’
‘This has nothing to do with the issue of whether there’s been a waiver of privilege your Honour.’
‘A relevance objection?’
‘Yes.’
The judge shook his head a little as if thinking, but didn’t wait for Murphy to respond. ‘I’ll allow this line for the moment,’ he said. ‘It might relate to the issue of what instructions or advice was given.’
‘Do you need me to repeat my question?’ Murphy asked.
Amanda shook her head. ‘Nikki was only after what she thought was fair.’
‘What she thought was fair? Did she mention a figure?’
‘No.’
‘May we take it then that she didn’t tell you what advice her lawyer had given about what figure might be achievable?’
‘No.’
‘You mentioned in your evidence that Mrs Richter was a drug addict.’
‘I think I talked about her being in rehab.’
‘Well,’ Murphy said, ‘presumably she was in rehab because of some form of addiction, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘So she was a drug addict?’
‘At certain times of her life she lost her way.’
‘Does that mean yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she died of a drug overdose?’
‘If you say so.’
Tanner didn’t mind that Amanda indicated to the court any doubts she had about that, but he didn’t like the tone. Judges don’t like sarcasm.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Weatherill. Do you have some theory that differs from the findings of the coroner or the investigation of the New South Wales Police concerning Mrs Richter’s death?’
Amanda looked at Murphy for a long moment. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I was just very shocked at how she died.’
‘You were surprised that a former drug addict might take drugs again?’
‘I spoke to her most days.’
‘Were you ever present when Mrs Richter took any form of illegal narcotic?’
‘I object,’ Tanner said. ‘That question is totally unrelated to the issue your Honour has to determine.’
‘What’s the relevance of that?’ the judge asked Murphy.
Murphy raised his eyebrows as if the answer was obvious. ‘Well, your Honour,’ he said, ‘Mrs Richter died from a heroin overdose. Presumably she’d suffered a relapse of her addiction. I’d like to explore what this witness knew of it. If she was under the effects of a drug like heroin, in my submission she wouldn’t be in a condition to be properly said to waive privilege, which on our understanding of the law would need to be an act of a sound mind, not one under the influence of a narcotic.’
Tanner was on his feet before the judge could rule. ‘Your Honour, I also object to the form of the question. As it’s framed now, it’s asking the witness to go back years. That can’t possibly be relevant.’
The judge nodded. ‘I think that’s right, Mr Murphy. I think you need to limit your time frame to the period from when Mrs Richter first told the witness she was intending to seek a divorce from Mr Richter.’
‘Well, your Honour, in my view we shouldn’t be so limited. It may be that –’
‘That’s my ruling, Mr Murphy.’
‘If it please the court,’ Murphy said.
‘I wasn’t aware Nikki was taking any drugs at all before she died,’ Amanda said, not waiting for Murphy to repeat the question. ‘To my knowledge, she hadn’t taken any illegal drug for more than . . . it would have to be at least eighteen months before she died.’
‘Did you ever take any illegal drugs with Mrs Richter, Miss Weatherill?’
‘I object,’ Tanner said quickly. ‘That question shouldn’t have been asked, your Honour.’
‘What’s the relevance of that question, Mr Murphy?’ Knight said.
‘Well, your Honour,’ Murphy responded slowly, ‘we know Mrs Richter had been a drug addict. We know she died of an overdose, at about the time she’s said to have waived privilege. If Miss Weatherill also –’
‘Do you have any evidence at all to support your question?’
‘The witness was Mrs Richter’s best friend, as she says, and –’
‘That’s not remotely a proper basis for your question, Mr Murphy,’ the judge said angrily.
Murphy knew he had no legal standing to ask the question. If Amanda Weatherill was going to be called for the defence in order to tell the jury the things she knew about John Richter, the prosecutor was likely to drag her own past into the fray. The question wasn’t about winning the privilege argument, it was about scaring her off.
‘Well, if your Honour is against me,’ Murphy said.
‘I am,’ the judge said.
‘I’ll proceed with something else.’
‘Please do.’
‘Miss Weatherill, you understand that you’re giving evidence to assist the defence of Justin Matheson in the case brought against him by the State for the murder of Elena Mancini, correct?’
Amanda paused before answering. ‘I’ve been asked to give evidence about what Nikki told me she’d told her lawyer, and what her lawyer told her.’
‘Yes,’ Murphy said in a tone that was heading towards condescension, ‘but you understand that Mr Matheson’s lawyers are seeking access to the legal files of Ms Cook, correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you understand they want to do that because they think the contents of those files might in some way help Mr Matheson?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you do understand that they want you here to help Mr Matheson – at least to that extent?’
‘Yes.’
‘You had an affair with Mr Matheson, didn’t you, Miss Weatherill? A sexual affair.’
Amanda Weatherill’s eyes widened. She froze for a moment, like she was wishing the question away. The pause lasted long enough for Jane Ross to write on a post-it note and put it in front of him: WTF?
‘I object,’ Tanner said. ‘Again, your Honour, that question can’t raise any matter of relevance to this application.’
‘Well,’ the judge said slowly, ‘I think it can. I’ll allow the question.’
Amanda Weatherill took a deep breath, and it was already obvious she was fighting off tears. ‘It was a long time ago.’
Murphy paused for effect. ‘How long ago, Miss Weatherill?’
‘About seven years,’ she said softly.
‘You have to keep your voice up for the court reporters, Miss Weatherill,’ the judge said. The shift in tone was obvious. She was no longer a sweet young thing.
‘And how long did this affair last?’
‘Not long. A few weeks.’
‘I see, and after your sexual affair with Mr Matheson ended, did you continue to see him?’
‘Very occasionally. Probably not – sometimes if I went out with Nikki, and a group of her friends, or with Nikki and Jack, Justin might sometimes be there. We didn’t see each other privately. I mean, we didn’t see each other alone.’
‘Not at all?’
She paused. ‘He – when my brother got injured, he rang me. After he heard about it. We had a coffee. That’s all.’
‘And did Mr Matheson offer your brother any financial assistance after his injury?’
‘He paid for a special wheelchair.’
‘A very expensive one, I understand?’
‘Nikki and Jack helped . . . Nikki made Jack help make my parents’ house wheelchair friendly. They paid for some additional therapy over and above what the government –
Justin just bought the wheelchair.’
‘You must have been very grateful for that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you recall swearing an affidavit for this application, Miss Weatherill?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you were obviously told by those representing Mr Matheson that on my application you’d been ordered to give all your evidence orally?’
‘Yes.’
Murphy looked at the court officer, and held out a document towards him. ‘I’m giving you a document now, Miss Weatherill. Is that a copy of the affidavit you swore?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you take the court to the paragraph where you mention having an affair with Mr Matheson?’
She glared at Murphy. ‘It doesn’t.’
‘Very well. Could you take us to the paragraph dealing with Mr Matheson paying for your brother’s wheelchair?’
‘I object, your Honour,’ Tanner said. ‘This is badgering. My friend knows it’s not there. He can make that submission.’
‘There’s nothing in here about your prior relationship with Mr Matheson, Miss Weatherill?’ Knight asked.
‘No, your Honour.’
‘I see. Yes, Mr Murphy?’
‘Why not, Miss Weatherill?’
‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’
‘Did Mr Matheson’s lawyers share that view?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t tell them.’
‘Why?’
‘I told you. I didn’t think it was relevant.’
‘Is that an honest answer?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re asking the court to believe that Nikki Richter told you intimate things about her dealings with her lawyer, correct?’
‘I’m not asking anyone to believe anything,’ she said. ‘I’m telling the truth.’
‘You say you understand you’re helping Mr Matheson with your evidence today, but you seriously thought it of no relevance that you once had a sexual affair with him, and that he financially aided your brother after a serious injury?’
‘It has nothing to do with what Nikki told me.’
‘Can I suggest to you it does?’
‘Is that a question?’
‘May I suggest to you that Mrs Richter told you none of the things you allege she told you concerning her conversations with Ms Cook.’
‘She did.’
‘And can I suggest that you’ve only come forward with this false evidence to help your friend and former lover, Mr Matheson.’
Cyanide Games: A Peter Tanner Thriller Page 28