“I see,” Strauss said. “And who are you, sir?”
Grimsley turned from Strauss to glare at Cyndi Mulligan, who was seated next to me. Cyndi lowered her head, and Grimsley shifted his stare to me. I gazed back, expressionless. After a moment, he gave me a sneer, turned back to Strauss, and in a loud voice answered, “I am the son, the only son, of Bertram Richard Mulligan. He was my father, he was married to my dear mother, and they were husband and wife at the time of her impregnation and at the time of my birth.”
He turned toward me. “I—am—the—sole—biological—son—of—Bertram—Richard—Mulligan.”
What followed that verbal thunderclap was, as Benny would later say, the courtroom equivalent of the aftermath of premature ejaculation. Strauss asked a series of open-ended questions—“Tell the Court about your education,” “Tell the Court about your first job,” “Tell the Court about your family,” etc. Grimsley’s responses were a rambling, increasingly flaccid, and largely irrelevant account of his life.
Thirty minutes into his testimony and it was clear that Grimsley and Strauss had lost the interest of Judge Bauer, who appeared to be texting on his phone. I resisted the urge to object. When Strauss finally announced that he had no more questions for the witness, I scanned my notes, looked up at the judge, and checked my watch. It was five minutes to noon.
I stood. “Your Honor, I have some questions for Mr. Grimsley, but most are beyond the scope of the direct examination. Accordingly, to avoid objections from opposing counsel and in the interest of judicial efficiency, I respectfully request the right to reserve those questions until we call Mr. Grimsley in our case.”
Judge Bauer glanced at his watch and then stared at Strauss. “I assume you have no problem with that, Counsel.”
“Well,” Strauss started, “if Miss Gold thinks she has some questions for my client, my feeling—”
“We’re about to recess for lunch, Mr. Strauss. Do you have any more evidence to present?”
Strauss flipped through the notes on his legal pad, looked over at his client on the witness stand, and then back at the judge. “No, Your Honor. We believe we’ve provided more than sufficient evidence already. We are pleased to rest our case. But if Miss Gold has any questions—”
“Enough. Ms. Gold can ask your client her questions this afternoon. I will see you after lunch.”
Judge Bauer rapped his gavel twice. “The Court will be in recess until one-thirty.”
As the judge stood the bailiff announced, “All rise.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Benny, Cyndi, and I went across the street to the St. Louis Bread Company for lunch. She listened as Benny and I went over our battle plans. At my request, Benny left for court a few minutes early to be there to greet our witnesses.
When he was gone, I turned to Cyndi. “There were three reporters in the courtroom this morning. And there’s a Channel 5 News van parked out front of the courthouse. If this afternoon goes as planned, it’ll be a hot topic in this town.”
“Great.” She shook her head wearily. “Just what I need.”
“I know. Are you still okay with this?”
“I am.” She sighed. “I’m doing this for Carson, not me.”
“I know that, Cyndi.” I reached across the table and took one of her hands in mine. “Are you still angry with him?”
She gazed at me, eyes clear. “Yes, I am definitely still pissed off.”
She shook her head. “What a family. All of this. This should never have happened. That bloodline trust? He used me.”
“I understand, Cyndi.” I squeezed her hand. “One day at a time. Let’s first get through this one.”
She nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Remember, I’ll ask you those simple questions, and you give me your simple answers. Don’t let Strauss bait you on cross-examination. If he gets out of line—and he will—I’ll object. But no matter what he asks, keep your answers short and to the point. Okay?”
She smiled. “Yes, boss.”
And that’s precisely what she did. My direct examination consisted of ten minutes of simple questions and simple answers, ending with this one:
“Since your husband’s death, Mrs. Mulligan, have you had sexual relations with anyone?”
“No.”
“No one?”
“No one.”
I paused, pretending to glance down at my notes, allowing her answer to resonate.
I looked up at the judge. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
Judge Bauer turned to Strauss. “Any cross, Counsel?”
Strauss chuckled as he got to his feet. “Oh, yes.”
He tried to draw her out on cross-examination but got nowhere. Typical was the last series of questions and answers.
“Let me get this straight, ma’am. You expect us to believe you have had no sex with anyone else?”
“I do.”
“Why should we believe you?”
“Because I loved my husband.”
“That’s all fine and good. But your husband is dead.”
She stared at him.
“Well?” he finally said.
“Well what?”
“Your husband is dead.”
I stood. “Objection, Your Honor. We will stipulate that Mrs. Mulligan’s husband is dead. If Counsel has a question, he should ask it.”
“Objection sustained.” Judge Bauer turned to Strauss. “If you have another question, Counsel, then ask it.”
Pause. “Nothing further.”
Judge Bauer looked at me. “Ms. Gold?”
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
He turned to Cyndi. “You may step down, Mrs. Mulligan.”
He looked back me. “Next witness.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Benny stood. But for his ample girth and Jew-fro, he was almost unrecognizable in his blue pinstriped suit, white Oxford shirt, and blue-and-red striped tie.
He announced, “Defendant calls Dr. Robert Feldman.”
Dr. Feldman was the fertility doctor who’d handled Cyndi’s artificial insemination. He was a plump, soft-spoken man in his early sixties with a soothing manner.
Benny walked him through his relationship with Cyndi, from her first appointment to the day of Carson’s delivery.
“The hospital notified me of the birth,” Dr. Feldman said. “I came by later that afternoon to visit the new mother and her child.”
“Is that your standard procedure?”
“Oh, yes.” He smiled gently. “A successful pregnancy is a wonderful event in my practice.”
He paused, cherishing the memory. “Mrs. Mulligan was crying. Tears of joy and tears of remembrance. It was February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day. Cyndi told me that her little girl was a love child. Both for her and her late husband. It was a lovely moment, Counsel. Just lovely.”
Benny let it linger for several seconds. In the silence of the courtroom I watched the judge’s docket clerk dab her eyes with a tissue.
Benny resumed. “You have before you a set of documents marked as Defendant’s Group Exhibit E. Do you recognize them?”
“I do. This is my patient file for Mrs. Mulligan. I maintain such a file for each of my patients.”
“I see that the first several pages are your notes regarding Mrs. Mulligan’s visits, beginning with the one you described earlier today.”
“Yes,” he said, studying the page. “This one here—these are the notes for her first visit. April eleventh. A little over a week after her husband’s funeral.”
“Page five of the notes covers your first attempt to artificially inseminate her, correct?”
“Yes. That attempt was not successful.” He paged through the documents. “Here. Page seven. This concerns the second attempt, which was successful.”
“On each of those pages, Doctor, you have recorded a series of letters and numbers that are labeled A.C. What is that?”
“Yes, A.C. That is the access code for the vials of frozen sperm I used. Certain sperm depositors provide sperm for a specific purpose, such as for use only with their wife, and thus they want to maintain control over their sperm. For those depositors, the sperm bank assigns a confidential access code. Such was the case here. Mrs. Mulligan told me that her late husband had provided her with that code, which she gave to me so that I could arrange for delivery of the correct vials of sperm.”
Benny walked over to the blackboard. “Please read us the access code.”
As the doctor read off the code, Benny wrote it down:
DG30WQSX973PMAK1
“Thank you, Doctor. Nothing further.”
Judge Bauer turned to Strauss. “Counsel?”
“I have a few, Judge.”
“Nicely done,” I whispered to Benny when he returned to the table.
He gave me a wink. “Just teeing it up for you, boss. Almost show time.”
Strauss flailed around for a few minutes before conceding to reality, namely, that trying to cross-examine the gentle but knowledgeable Dr. Robert Feldman on his area of expertise was as daunting as trying to cross-examine Mister Rogers on his neighborhood.
After Strauss took his seat, Judge Bauer said, “Any further witnesses, Ms. Gold?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Defendant recalls to the witness stand the plaintiff.”
Bert Grimsley looked up from his notes with a frown. He glanced over at Strauss, who shrugged. Grimsley stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and strode over to the witness box.
As I approached the podium, I gazed at Bert Grimsley, who stared back at me from the witness stand with a smug grin.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Grimsley,” I said.
“Same to you, Miss Gold.”
“You understand that you are still under oath.”
“I do.”
“Have you ever had sexual relations with my client?”
Grimsley squinted. “Have I what?”
“Have you ever had sexual relations with my client?”
“Are you asking me whether I’ve banged your client?”
I turned to the judge. “Your Honor, could you please ask the witness to answer my question?”
Judge Bauer stared down at Grimsley, his face red. “Watch your language, sir. This is a court of law, not a fraternity house. Answer Counsel’s question.”
Grimsley looked back at me with a grin and shook his head. “No, Miss Gold. I have never had sexual relations with your client.”
I looked down at my notes, pretending to study them.
I looked up. “Your attorney asked you several questions about your background—your education, the various jobs and titles you’ve held. If my notes are accurate, you have served as a member of the board of your church, correct?”
“That is correct.”
“You also served one term on the board of the St. Louis Area Food Bank, correct?”
“Yep.”
“Those aren’t the only two boards you have served on over the years, correct?”
Grimsley squinted. “What do you mean?”
“Have you served on any other boards?”
He pursed his lips. “Maybe. I can’t think of any others at the moment.”
“Let me see if I can jog your memory. I did a Google search on you. It seems that a little over a decade ago you served a two-year term on the board of directors of the Testicular Cancer Society.”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”
“They held their annual fundraiser in St. Louis one of those two years, correct?”
“I believe you’re right.”
“You attended?”
“I sure did.”
“Did The Mulligan Group buy a table for that event?”
“They certainly did.”
“You were the General Counsel of The Mulligan Group at the time.”
“I was also vice president.
“Did your father attend that event?”
His smile vanished. In a terse voice he said, “I don’t recall.”
“What caused you to become active in that organization back then?”
“They do good work.”
“Did you have a more personal connection?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you a survivor of testicular cancer, Mr. Grimsley?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Why do you ask?”
“Actually, Mr. Grimsley, I’m the one who asks the questions in this proceeding. You are not presently married, are you, sir?”
“Not presently.”
“You are divorced, correct?”
“So what?”
I turned to the judge, who needed no prompting.
“Watch that tone, Mr. Grimsley.” Judge Bauer’s nostrils flared. “Just answer the question.”
Grimsley squinted at me. “Yes, I am divorced.”
“Do you have any children?”
“Not yet.”
“At the time you were diagnosed with testicular cancer, Mr. Grimsley, did you take any precautionary measures to preserve your future potential as a father?”
He stared at me. “Such as?”
“Such as any measures. You heard my client testify that your father took precautionary measures. Did you, as well?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you think that’s a personal question?”
“Do you?”
“I view it as a brazen invasion of my privacy.”
I gazed at him. I knew the judge was waiting for me to ask that the witness be instructed to answer, waiting to order him to do so.
After a long pause, I said, “I certainly didn’t mean to offend you, sir. Are you telling us that you would prefer not to answer that question in open court?”
“Yes, I am.”
I turned to the judge. “May I approach the witness, Your Honor?”
Judge Bauer, clearly baffled, nodded. “You may.”
I walked over and handed Grimsley a sheet of paper and a pen.
After returning to the podium, I said, “Mr. Grimsley, you have made it clear that there are certain details of your life you do not want to share in open court. I assume that one of those details is your Social Security number.”
He snorted. “I should say so.”
“Then please print your Social Security number on the sheet of paper I just handed to you, along with your name. Once you have done so, hand it to the courtroom clerk, who will mark it as Defendant’s Exhibit F and give it to the judge for safekeeping. Okay?”
Grimsley gave me a puzzled squint. “You want me to do what?”
I turned to the court reporter. “Could you please read the witness my last question?”
After she did, Strauss stood. “I object, Your Honor. This is nonsensical. Completely irrelevant.”
Judge Bauer turned to me, his eyebrows raised. “Counsel?”
“I respectfully ask for the Court’s indulgence. I will demonstrate its relevance before I rest our case. Should I fail to do so, the Court may tear up the exhibit.”
The judge nodded. “Okay, Ms. Gold. We’ll give you a little leeway here, but you better deliver.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
The judge turned to Strauss. “Objection noted, Counsel. I will hold off ruling on the matter until opposing counsel rests her case.” He looked at Grimsley. “Do you understand Ms. Gold’s request?”
“I guess so.”
“Then do it.”
“Okay.”
When he finished, he handed the paper to the judge’s clerk, who added the exhibit sticker and hande
d it up to Judge Bauer, who looked at the paper, frowned, and set it down next to his gavel.
“Mr. Grimsley,” I said, “the clerk just marked that sheet of paper as Defendant’s Exhibit F. For the record, sir, what did you write on Exhibit F?”
“Exactly what you told me to write.”
“And what was that, sir?”
He rolled his eyes. “My—name—and—my—Social—Security—number.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grimsley. I have no further questions.”
“Mr. Strauss?”
Strauss chuckled and shook his head. “No questions, Your Honor.”
“You may step down, sir.”
After Grimsley returned to his seat at counsel’s table next to Milton Strauss, the judge said, “Well, Ms. Gold, I assume you have more.”
I smiled. “I do, Your Honor. One final witness.”
“Very good. Let’s proceed.”
I nodded toward Benny, who stood and walked toward the back of the courtroom. Other than the parties themselves, the judge had ordered all witnesses to remain outside the courtroom until called to testify.
When Benny reached the courtroom door, I said, “Defendant calls Donald Reynolds.”
Benny opened the door and gestured toward someone in the hallway.
Chapter Thirty-four
Donald Reynolds was the CEO of Unisource Laboratories. Tall, slender, and athletic, he was in his sixties with thinning gray hair neatly trimmed and combed. He had on a dark blue suit, crisp white shirt, a red patterned tie, and freshly shined cordovan cap-toe shoes. His strong, angular features were lightly tanned, no doubt from his twice-weekly golf games at Bellerive Country Club.
“How long have you been the CEO of Unisource, Mr. Reynolds?”
“Twenty-two years, Ms. Gold. It will be twenty-three next month.”
“So you were at Unisource when it was acquired by The Mulligan Group?”
“I was.”
“Were you CEO at the time?”
“I was.”
“And thus you knew and worked with Bertram Mulligan for nearly two decades.”
“That is a correct. He was a fine gentlemen and an outstanding businessman. A tough and crafty man, both in and out of the boardroom.”
The Dead Hand Page 13