The Living Room

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The Living Room Page 38

by Robert Whitlow


  Amy swallowed.

  “I had no idea—” she began before Mr. Phillips could speak.

  “I know that,” he snapped before she could continue. “But you took it a bit too far. Remember where you are and what you’re doing here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I wanted to set up Dr. Kelly by going first with Jackson,” Mr. Phillips fumed. “Nailing down her testimony would have been a huge advantage.”

  “But you did the right thing notifying her of her right to have a lawyer.”

  “Of course I did, but you acted like you were ready to sit down and have a chat with her about your book.”

  “I was making sure she’d actually read it.”

  “Which had nothing to do with why she was here.”

  “No, it didn’t,” Amy admitted.

  “At least we got an admission from her off the record about the $150,000 she received from Sonny. She claims he gave it to help her care for her son, but we know at least half of it went to Dr. Kelly.”

  In all the commotion in the conference room, Amy had missed the significance of Jackson’s offhand comment. Mr. Phillips checked his watch.

  “Since I don’t have to be scrambling around organizing my questioning for Dr. Kelly based on information obtained from Nurse Jackson, I’m going out for a few minutes.”

  “Is there anything you want me to do while you’re gone?”

  Mr. Phillips gave Amy a look that made her suspect he was about to give her a tongue-lashing.

  “There are a few short pieces of dictation you should be able to transcribe,” he said curtly. “That should help keep your mind on the office.”

  Relieved to be away from Mr. Phillips, Amy returned to her office and began working on the dictation. She finished three letters. While she watched the pages come out of the printer, she decided Mr. Phillips had overreacted to Beverly Jackson’s familiarity with Amy as a writer. He’d taken out his frustration that the witness didn’t want to answer questions without a lawyer present on Amy. With Harold Phillips, it was better to overlook an offense than try to address it.

  She heard Mr. Phillips return. A few minutes later he buzzed her. His face was still a dark cloud. He reached over to the printer on his credenza and grabbed a sheet of paper and thrust it out to her.

  “Read this.”

  Amy took the sheet. It was a short news article from the Internet. The subject was the consulting firm Mr. Phillips hired on Amy’s recommendation.

  “I’ll save you a few minutes,” Mr. Phillips said. “The consulting firm in Miami you recommended for the Thompson Trust is under investigation for illegal activity with foreign nations that are on the US government’s do not trade list. The feds seized a bunch of their records as part of an ongoing investigation. There’s no way we want to do business with them.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “I never saw anything about that in my dream.”

  “It would have been more helpful if you’d had insight into that instead of voicing some vague fears about Dr. Ramsey.”

  “As soon as we’re done with Dr. Kelly, I’ll call Ramsey and see if he’ll take us back. I hope it’s not too late to straighten out this mess.”

  Amy felt slightly dizzy.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “We’ll talk later. It’s time to face off with Dr. Kelly.”

  “Are you sure you need me?” Amy asked. “Or want me?”

  Mr. Phillips clenched his jaw for a moment. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Amy stumbled after Mr. Phillips to the conference room. This time there were two men sitting on the other side of the table; one in his thirties, and the other looked to be around fifty-five. The older man, a lawyer named Ed Franconi, stood.

  “Harold, good to see you.”

  “Ed.”

  The two lawyers shook hands.

  “This is Dr. Kelly,” his attorney said.

  The man whose name had invaded Amy’s dream with overwhelming negativity was slightly built with brown hair, brown eyes, and an intelligent face. His only unusual feature was a thin mustache on his upper lip. He stood up and shook Mr. Phillips’s hand.

  “This is my legal assistant, Amy Clarke,” Mr. Phillips said.

  “Mr. Franconi,” Amy said. “We’ve talked several times on the phone over the years.”

  “Yes, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Amy ignored Dr. Kelly. Thankfully, no one mentioned anything about her book. The court reporter swore in Dr. Kelly, and Mr. Phillips began.

  Amy knew there was a rhythm to questioning a witness in a deposition. No attorney asked an important question in the first few minutes. Rather, the lawyer tried to establish a tempo of the witness answering routine questions so that when a disputed matter came up it took energy to break the pattern. Mr. Phillips began with questions about Dr. Kelly’s educational and professional background. He spent much more time than actually necessary because he wanted to create a relaxed, cooperative atmosphere. Dr. Kelly was soft-spoken, and several times Mr. Phillips had to remind the witness to speak up.

  “Tell me about your experience providing in-home care for elderly patients,” Mr. Phillips said.

  “Like most physicians, I rarely make house calls, but I’ve had several terminally ill patients whom I continued to follow at home after they couldn’t come to the office.”

  “How did Sanford Dominick become your patient?”

  Dr. Kelly didn’t immediately answer but turned to his lawyer, who handed him a file. The doctor opened it.

  “I was contacted by Beverly Jackson, a nurse who was providing home care for Mr. Dominick. She asked if I would be interested in providing general medical care. The patient had a number of medical conditions but needed a family practice doctor or internist to oversee his status. Mr. Dominick regularly saw a cardiologist and a neurologist, and he had the financial ability to pay for a doctor to come to his home. I agreed to accept him as a patient.”

  Amy expected Mr. Phillips to begin a line of questions about Dr. Kelly’s connection with Beverly Jackson.

  “Do you know Ms. Mildred Burris?” Mr. Phillips asked.

  “Uh, yes.” Dr. Kelly raised his eyebrows.

  “How?”

  “I first met her when I began seeing Mr. Dominick as a patient.”

  “What do you know about the nature of her relationship to Mr. Dominick?”

  “He introduced her to me as a longtime friend who visited him on a regular basis.”

  “How many times did you see Mr. Dominick?”

  “Do you want the specific dates?”

  “Yes, and summarize what you did on each occasion.”

  The doctor opened his chart. Mr. Phillips already had copies of the medical records from Dr. Kelly and every other doctor who had seen Mr. Dominick, but Amy knew he’d still want to hear what the doctor said. As the doctor plowed through the data, Mr. Phillips interrupted several times with questions.

  “Was Beverly Jackson always present at the time you examined Mr. Dominick?”

  “I can’t say for certain, but I don’t recall a visit when she wasn’t there. She usually scheduled the appointments.”

  “Were you present when Mr. Dominick died?”

  Amy held her breath.

  “Yes.”

  “Was Mrs. Jackson also present?”

  “Yes, she’d called me a couple of hours earlier and informed me that it appeared the patient was close to death. It was about seven o’clock in the evening, and I came immediately.”

  “How did she know Mr. Dominick was about to die?”

  The doctor went through a list of telltale signs of impending death that made Amy’s skin crawl.

  “When I examined the patient, I concurred with Mrs. Jackson’s assessment. I stayed with Mr. Dominick while Mrs. Jackson called Mrs. Dominick in Florida to give her an update.”

  “Did you speak with Mrs. Dominick?”

  “Not until the next day when she arrived here.”r />
  “So she left Florida as soon as she knew her husband was about to die?”

  “That was my understanding from Mrs. Jackson.”

  “Was Ms. Burris there when you arrived at the residence on the evening of Mr. Dominick’s death?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were the three of you in the same room with Mr. Dominick?”

  A shiver went down Amy’s spine.

  “Yes, at various times during the course of the evening.”

  “Was Mr. Dominick conscious?”

  “He was semiconscious and noncommunicative.”

  Mr. Phillips glanced down at his notes.

  “We’ll come back to that visit in a minute. You also saw Mr. Dominick fourteen days previously, and you described his condition then as ‘stable with good vital signs.’ Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was present in the room at the time of that examination?” Mr. Phillips asked.

  “Myself, Mrs. Jackson, and Ms. Burris.”

  “The same three people?” Mr. Phillips asked.

  “Yes. That wasn’t a regularly scheduled checkup. Ms. Burris asked me to come.”

  “She called you, not Mrs. Jackson?”

  “Yes, although Mrs. Jackson knew about the request that I come.”

  “Tell me everything you remember about that visit, not just what’s in your medical notes.”

  The witness smiled. To Amy it appeared Dr. Kelly was mocking Mr. Phillips—sending a signal that he was not going to be trapped by the cagey old lawyer.

  “When I arrived, Mr. Dominick was sitting in a chair on the veranda adjacent to his bedroom. The veranda had several large windows that gave him a view of the pond at the rear of his property. Mr. Dominick liked to sit there, especially in the early morning.”

  “What time of day was it?”

  “Around seven thirty in the morning. After leaving I went to the hospital for my rounds at nine thirty.”

  “How long were you at the Dominick residence?”

  “An hour and a half, which was much longer than usual. The medical examination only took about fifteen minutes.”

  “What did you do the rest of the time?”

  Dr. Kelly paused and looked directly at Mr. Phillips.

  “Watched and listened as Ms. Burris told Mr. Dominick how to become a Christian.”

  Mr. Phillips coughed into his hand. Amy’s mouth dropped open.

  “She did most of the talking,” Dr. Kelly continued, “but Beverly Jackson contributed as well. I remember they read several passages of Scripture from a huge black Bible with beautiful illustrations and gold-leaf calligraphy. Mr. Dominick said he bought the Bible many years ago in England during World War II. It was a very rare edition. When they finished, Ms. Burris asked him if he wanted to pray, and he did. I considered it a divine opportunity, especially knowing what we do now.”

  “What is that?”

  “That Mr. Dominick only had a short time to live. I’m a doctor, not a minister, but I talk to patients about spiritual matters if they want to do so. That was probably Mr. Dominick’s last chance to hear and believe the gospel.”

  “Did you participate in this conversation?”

  “No, Ms. Burris did a beautiful job.”

  Mr. Phillips shuffled through some of the papers on the table in front of him. Amy could tell he was trying to buy a moment’s time to figure out what in the world to ask next.

  “Was that the same day Mr. Dominick allegedly executed a new will essentially cutting his wife out of his estate?” Mr. Phillips regained some of his footing.

  “No, that took place three days later. The attorney who prepared the will asked me to be present and determine if Mr. Dominick was mentally competent and knew the significance of his decisions.”

  Mr. Phillips glanced down at the sheets in front of him.

  “Why isn’t that visit in your medical notes?”

  “It’s on the back of the previous visit.”

  Mr. Phillips turned over a sheet of paper before launching into a series of questions about Dr. Kelly’s evaluation of Mr. Dominick’s mental status. Amy barely listened. Instead, in her mind’s eye she stayed on the veranda where Ms. Burris led the man who had broken her heart sixty years earlier to the Lord. She’d reached out to Sanford Dominick, not because of his money, but in the love of God.

  thirty-seven

  When Amy refocused, Mr. Phillips was asking Dr. Kelly about the money Sanford Dominick gave Beverly Jackson.

  “Yes, Mrs. Jackson told me about it and showed me the check.”

  “What was Mrs. Jackson’s explanation for the payment?”

  “Mr. Dominick wanted to help with expenses related to the long-term care of Mrs. Jackson’s son, who has cerebral palsy. She was reluctant to accept it.”

  “But she cashed it, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, that is my understanding.”

  Mr. Phillips marked as an exhibit the check from Mrs. Jackson to Dr. Kelly written several weeks later.

  “Did you receive this check for seventy-five thousand dollars from Mrs. Jackson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know the source of this money?”

  “It was from Mr. Dominick’s gift.”

  “Why did Mrs. Jackson give you half the money instead of using it for the benefit of her son?”

  “She didn’t give me the money. The check was reimbursement for a handicapped van and several items of medical equipment. As a physician, I was able to obtain the items at a discount, which I passed along to her. Every penny of this money went to Kenny’s care, just as Mr. Dominick intended.”

  Mr. Phillips turned to Amy with a questioning look in his eyes. She stared back, not sure if she should blink. Mr. Phillips returned to his prepared questions about Mr. Dominick’s mental capacity at the time he signed the will a week or so before his death. Amy was impressed not by the lawyer’s questions but by the doctor’s responses.

  “Before Mr. Dominick signed the papers, I administered the nine-point General Practitioner Assessment of Cognition,” Dr. Kelly said. “The GPAOC assesses time orientation, numbering, placing hands correctly, awareness of current events, first name, last name, address, streets, and cities. Mr. Dominick scored seven out of nine, which was the same score he’d received several times over the past few months. He was confused about the day of the week and the name of the president. The validity of the test is enhanced by comparison of results over time.”

  “But did—”

  “I’m not finished,” the doctor interrupted. “At the request of Mr. Valaoras, the attorney who prepared the will, I asked Mr. Dominick questions about his family members because it’s my understanding he needed to know ‘the natural objects of his affection’ in order to be mentally competent to sign a will. Is that the correct terminology?”

  “I’m asking the questions, Doctor,” Mr. Phillips replied drily.

  Dr. Kelly didn’t change expression. “Mr. Dominick correctly named his wife and children, but when it came to his grandchildren, he committed three errors. He confused the names of the children of his daughters, Elizabeth and Leanne. Upon prompting, he acknowledged his mistakes and repeated the information correctly.”

  To Amy, Mr. Dominick’s mental capacity sounded about the same as it was when he signed the will prepared by Mr. Phillips.

  “Nevertheless, Mr. Dominick’s initial responses on several questions were erroneous, weren’t they?” Mr. Phillips asked.

  “That’s true.”

  “Are you aware that Dr. Robinson, the patient’s neurologist, also evaluated Mr. Dominick’s mental status around the same time?”

  “No. I’ve not seen his report.”

  “Would it surprise you to learn that Dr. Robinson did not think Mr. Dominick was competent?”

  “Not really. Given the patient’s condition, I think he might respond differently to testing from day to day during the last months of his life. All I can testify about are my findings.”

>   “And isn’t it true that a board-certified neurologist would have more training and experience in this evaluating of mental competency than you would?”

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Phillips grunted in satisfaction as he prepared to ask his next question.

  “Are you aware it’s a conflict of interest for you to testify regarding Mr. Dominick’s mental competency while also being a witness to his signing of the will?”

  Dr. Kelly turned to his lawyer and gave him a questioning look.

  “Answer the question based on your knowledge and understanding,” Mr. Franconi said.

  “No, I did not know there was a problem. But I also thought it only took two witnesses to validate a will, and three of us signed, along with a notary public.”

  “Are you aware that Mrs. Jackson, as a beneficiary of the will, should not have signed as a witness?” Mr. Phillips countered.

  “Objection, Harold,” Mr. Franconi said. “I let you ask Dr. Kelly one legal question, but it’s going to be up to the judge to determine the legitimacy of the witnesses to the will. Move on to something else.”

  While the lawyers argued, Amy scribbled a note and slid it to Mr. Phillips—Jackson didn’t witness the will. Mr. Phillips glanced down and grunted.

  “Are you instructing him not to answer?” Mr. Phillips continued.

  “Yes, and you’re welcome to ask a judge to make him answer, if you want.”

  “I’ll reserve my rights on that,” Mr. Phillips said.

  “I’m sure you will,” Mr. Franconi responded evenly. “Is there anything else relevant to the purpose of this deposition that you want to ask Dr. Kelly?”

  Mr. Phillips wasn’t going to let the other lawyer cut him off and went over ground that he’d already plowed. Ten minutes later he closed his folder.

  “That’s all I have at this time subject to reconvening the deposition if other information should come to light or upon order of the court.”

  “No questions,” Mr. Franconi said.

  In less than a minute, Dr. Kelly and his lawyer packed up and left the conference room.

  “I’ll get back to work,” Amy said to Mr. Phillips. “I have a couple of items left on the last batch of—”

  “Meet me in my office,” the senior partner said, cutting her off.

  “Yes, sir.” Amy swallowed.

 

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