The clown took the stand and both the prosecution and defense were immediately called forward for a side-bar by Judge Fescoe. A heated discussion ensued that none of the rest of us could hear. The clown issue was apparently resolved in favor of the defense. After being sworn in, the clown was asked his name for the record.
His white-gloved right hand raised, he said, 'Billy.'
The bailiff asked, 'Last name, please?'
The clown said, 'First name, Silly. Last name, Billy, Silly Billy. I had it legally changed,' he confided to the judge.
Jules Halpern took over, and he treated the clown with respect and seriousness. First, he asked him to state his credentials, which the clown did politely. Then Halpern asked, 'And what brings you here today?'
'I did a party for Mr. Shafer out in Kalorama on the fateful and terrible night of the murder. It was his twins' fifth birthday. I did a party when they were four as well. I brought a video along. Want to see?' he said, speaking as if he were addressing a crowd of three-year-olds.
'Of course,' said Jules Halpern.
'Objection!' Catherine Fitzgibbon called out loudly.
The video was admitted over the prosecution's objections and yet another lengthy sidebar. The newspapers had claimed that Judge Fescoe was intimidated by Jules Halpern, which seemed the case.
The tape began with an arresting closeup of a painting of a clown's face. As the camera pulled back, everyone in the courtroom could see it was the sign on Silly Billy's van, which was parked in front of a handsome red-brick town house with a glass conservatory linked to the main building. The Shafer house.
The next scene showed Silly Billy ringing the front bell and apparently surprising the Shafer children at the door.
Once again the prosecution objected to the videotape. There was another sidebar. The lawyers returned to their seats and the tape resumed.
The other children at the birthday party ran to the door. The clown handed out toys from a sack over his shoulder - teddy bears, dolls, shiny red firetrucks.
Silly Billy then performed magic tricks and gags on the sunporch, which looked out onto the backyard. The yard was very pretty, with potted orange trees, white climbing roses, jasmine vine, lush green grass.
'Wait! I hear something outside!' He had turned and spoken to camera. Now he ran and disappeared from sight.
The kids all followed. The tension of surprise and imminent fun was in the children's eyes.
A pale white pony appeared, cantering slowly around the corner of the house. Silly Billy was riding on the horse.
But when the clown dismounted, the kids discovered that the clown was actually Geoffrey Shafer! The kids went wild, but especially the Shafer twins. They ran and hugged their daddy, who seemed the perfect father.
There were heartwarming, candid shots of the children eating frosted cake and playing party games. There were more shots of Shafer laughing and playing with several of the children. I suspected that Jules Halpern himself supervised the final editing of the tape. It was very convincing.
The adult guests, all dressed up and looking sophisticated, were a glowing testimonial that Geoffrey Shafer and his wife were outstanding parents. No longer in his clown costume but in a smart navy suit, Shafer modestly deflected the tributes. He had changed into the same clothes he had worn when he was apprehended at the Farragut.
The tape ended with the smiling and quite beautiful twins telling the camera that they loved their mommy and daddy for making their 'dream come true'. The lights came up. The judge granted a brief recess.
I felt incredibly angry that the video had been shown. It made Shafer seem such a wonderful father - and victim.
The jury was all smiles, and so was Jules Halpern. He had argued masterfully that the tape was crucial to establish Geoffrey Shafer's state of mind shortly before Patsy Hampton's murder. Halpern was so skillful an orator he'd actually made the outrageous request sound logical. At any rate, it was moot now.
Shafer himself was smiling broadly, as were his wife
and son. It suddenly occurred to me that Shafer had been riding a pale horse at the party for his children. He was Death from The Four Horsemen. It was all theater and games to him, his entire life.
Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel
CHAPTER Ninety-Two
Sometimes I wanted to shut my eyes tight and not have to watch another moment of the trial. I wanted things to be the way they were before the Weasel.
Catherine Fitzgibbon was doing a very good job with each witness, but the judge seemed to be favoring the defense whenever possible. It had begun at the crucial suppression-of-evidence hearing and it continued now.
Lucy Shafer took the witness stand early that afternoon. The warm, homespun videotaped images of the Shafer family were still fresh in the minds of the jury.
I had been trying to understand Lucy Shafer's odd and perplexing relationship with her husband since the first time I had met her, the night of Patsy Hampton's murder. What kind of woman could live with an unrepentant monster like Shafer and not know it? Could this woman be that much in denial? Or was there something else that motivated her, somehow held her captive to Shafer? I had seen all kinds of marital relationships in my therapy practice, but nothing like this.
Jane Halpern conducted the questioning and she looked every bit as confident and winning as her father. She was tall and slender, with wiry black hair tied in a bow with a dark crimson ribbon. She was twenty-eight, just four years out of Yale Law School, but seemed older and wiser.
'Mrs. Shafer, how long have you and your husband known each other?'
Lucy Shafer spoke in a gentle but clear voice. 'I've known Geoffrey for most of my adult life, actually. My father was his commanding officer in the army. I believe I was just fourteen when I first met Geoff. He was nine years older. We married when I was nineteen, after my second year at Cambridge. Once when I was studying for exams, he showed up in full military dress: polished saber, medals, shiny black leather riding boots - right in the middle of the library. I was studying in a sweatshirt or some such awful getup, and I don't think I'd washed my hair for days. Geoff told me it didn't matter. He didn't care a bit about appearances. He said he loved me and always would. I must tell you, he's kept that promise.'
'Very nice,' Jane Halpern said, seemingly utterly charmed, as if she'd never heard the story before. 'And has he remained romantic?'
'Oh, yes, even more so. Scarcely a week goes by that Geoff doesn't bring me flowers, or perhaps a beautiful Hermes scarf, which I collect. And then there are our “ouch” excursions.'
Jane Halpern wrinkled her nose and her dark-brown eyes twinkled. 'What are “ouch” excursions?' she asked, with the exuberant curiosity of a morning TV show host.
'Geoff will take me to New York, or maybe Paris, or back to London, and I get to shop for clothes until he says “ouch”. He's very generous, though.'
'A good husband, then?'
'The best you could imagine. Very hardworking, but not so much that he forgets about his family. The children adore him.'
'Yes, we could tell that from this morning's film, Mrs. Shafer. Was the party an unusual occasion?'
'No. Geoffrey's always throwing parties. He's very joyful, full of life, full of fun and surprises. He's a sensitive, very creative man.'
I looked from Lucy Shafer to the jury box. She had them in a spell, and they couldn't take their eyes off her. She was also credible. Even I had the sense that she genuinely loved her husband, and more important, that she believed he loved her.
Jane Halpern milked the testimony for all it was worth. I couldn't blame her. Lucy Shafer was attractive and seemed nice, kind, and very much in love with her husband and children, but she didn't appear to be a fool. Just someone who had found exactly who she wanted and valued him deeply. That someone was Geoffrey Shafer.
It was the indelible image the jury took away with them at the end of the day.
And it was an amazing lie - spun by a master.
&nbs
p; Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel
CHAPTER Ninety-Three
I talked things over with Andrew Jones when I got home after court that afternoon. I'd tried to contact Oliver Highsmith again, but so far hadn't gotten any response. Also, there was nothing new to link Shafer to the Jane Doe murders in Washington. Shafer didn't seem to have murdered anyone, at least locally, in the past several months.
After a dinner of chicken pot pie, salad, rhubarb pie, Nana gave the kids the night off from their chore of doing the dishes. She asked me to stay and help, to be her 'partner in grime', as we used to call it.
'Just like the good old days, same as it ever was,' I said as I splashed soap and water onto silver and dishes in the porcelain sink that's as old as the house.
Nana dried the kitchenware as quickly as I got it to her. Her fingers were still as nimble as her mind. 'I like to think we're older and wiser,' she chirped.
'I don't know. I'm still the one getting dishwater hands.'
'I haven't told you something, and I should have,' Nana said, suddenly going serious on me.
'Okay,' I said, and stopped splashing water and soap bubbles around in the sink. 'Shoot.'
'What I wanted to say - is that I'm proud of the way you've been able to handle the terrible things that have happened. Your strength and your patience have given me inspiration. And I'm not easily inspired, especially by the likes of you. I know it has had the same effect on Damon and Jannie. They don't miss a thing.'
I leaned over the sink, suddenly feeling in a confessional mood. 'It's the worst stretch of my life, the hardest thing I've ever had to do. It's even worse than when Maria died, Nana, if that's possible. At least back then I knew for sure she was dead. I could let myself grieve. I could finally let her go and breathe again.'
Nana came around the sink and took me in her arms, which always surprised me with their strength.
She looked me squarely in the eyes, just like she always has since I was around nine years old. She said, 'Let yourself grieve for her, Alex. Let her go.'
Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel
CHAPTER Ninety-Four
Geoffrey Shafer had an attractive, loving wife, and that incongruous and monstrously unfair fact bothered me a lot. I couldn't understand it as a psychologist or as a detective.
The clever testimony of Lucy Shafer continued early the following morning, and lasted just over an hour. Jane Halpern wanted the jury to hear more about Lucy's wonderful husband.
Finally, it was Catherine Fitzgibbon's turn. In her own way, she was as tough, and maybe as formidable, as Jules Halpern.
'Mrs. Shafer, we've all been listening to you intently, and it all sounds very charming and idyllic, but I'm troubled and confused by something. Here's what troubles me. Your husband tried to commit suicide eight days ago. Your husband tried to kill himself. So maybe he isn't quite what he seems to be. Maybe he isn't so well-balanced and sane. Maybe you're mistaken about who he really is.'
Lucy Shafer stared directly into the prosecuting attorney's eyes. 'In the past few months, my husband has seen his life, his career, and his good name falsely put in jeopardy. He couldn't believe that these horrible charges had been made against him. This whole Kafkaesque ordeal drove him, quite literally, to despair. You have no idea what it means to lose your good name.'
Catherine Fitzgibbon smiled, and quipped, 'Sure I do. Of course I do. Haven't you read the National Enquirer lately?' That got a laugh from the courtroom audience, even the jury members. I could tell that they liked Catherine. So did I.
She continued. 'Isn't it true that your husband has been treated for “despair” for many years? He's seeing a psychologist, Mrs. Shafer. He suffers from manic-depression, or bipolar disorder, correct?'
Lucy shook her head. 'He's had a mid-life crisis. That's all it is. It's nothing unusual for men of his age.'
'I see. And were you able to help him with his crisis?'
'Of course I was. Although not with respect to his work. So much of what he does is classified and top secret. You must understand that.'
'I must,' the prosecutor said, then quickly went on, 'So your husband has a great many secrets he keeps from you?'
Lucy frowned, and her eyes shot darts at the wily prosecutor. 'In his work, yes.'
'You knew that he was seeing Dr. Cassady? Boo Cassady?'
'Yes, of course I did. We often talked about it.'
'How often did he see her? Do you know? Did he tell you that? Or was it top secret?'
Jane Halpern shouted. 'Objection!'
'Sustained. Ms. Fitzgibbon.' warned Judge Fescoe, with an arched brow.
'Sorry, your honor. Sorry, Lucy. All right, then. How often did your husband see Boo Cassady?'
'He saw her as much as necessary, I suppose. I believe her name is Elizabeth.'
'Once a week? Twice? Every day?' Fitzgibbon pressed on, without missing a beat.
'I think once a week. Usually it was once a week.'
'But the doormen at the Farragut testified they saw your husband much more than that. Three and four times a week on average.'
Lucy Shafer shook her head wearily and glared at Fitzgibbon. 'I trust Geoffrey completely. I don't keep him on a lead. I certainly wouldn't count his therapy sessions.'
'Did you mind that Dr. Cassady, Elizabeth, is such an attractive woman?'
'No, don't be absurd.'
Fitzgibbon looked genuinely surprised. 'Why is that absurd? I don't think it is. I think I'd mind if my husband was seeing an attractive woman at her home office two, three, four times a week.'
Fitzgibbon moved swiftly. 'Didn't it bother you that Boo Cassady was a surrogate sex therapist for your husband?'
Lucy Shafer hesitated, seemed surprised, and glanced quickly at her husband. She hadn't known. It was impossible not to feel sorry for her.
Jane Halpern quickly rose from her seat. 'Objection! Your honor, there is no foundation that my client was seeing a sex surrogate.'
Lucy Shafer visibly pulled herself together on the witness stand. She was clearly stronger than she looked. Was she a game-player, too? Could she be one of the Horsemen? Or did she and her husband play a completely different kind of game?
She spoke. 'I'd like to answer the question. Madam Prosecutor. My husband, Geoffrey, has been such a good husband, such a good father, that even if he felt it necessary to see a sex therapist, and did not want to tell me about it because of the hurt or shame he felt, I would understand.'
'And if he committed cold-blooded murder - and did not want to tell you?' the prosecutor asked, then turned to the jury.
Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel
CHAPTER Ninety-Five
Elizabeth 'Boo' Cassady was in her late thirties, slender and very attractive, with lustrous brown hair that she had worn long since she was a young girl. She was a regular shopper at Neiman Marcus, Saks, Nordstrom, Bloomingdale's, and various chic specialty shops around Washington. It showed.
She had gotten the nickname 'Boo' as an infant because she always laughed and laughed whenever she heard the sound of somebody playing 'peek-a-boo' with her. She soon learned to make it herself, muttering 'boo, boo, boo, boo'. In school, right through college, she kept the name, friends said, because she could be a little scary at times.
For her important day in court she'd chosen a single-breasted pantsuit, beautifully cut, very soft and flowy. Her outfit was an eye-pleasing mix of coffee and cashmere cream. She looked like a professional person, and a successful one.
Jules Halpern asked her to state her name and occupation for the record. He was amiable but businesslike, a little cooler than he had been with other witnesses.
'Dr. Elizabeth Cassady. I'm a psychotherapist,' she replied evenly.
'Dr. Cassady, how do you know Colonel Shafer?'
'He's a patient of mine and has been for over a year. He sees me at my office at 1208 Woodley Avenue once or twice a week. We increased the sessions recently since Mr. Shafer's attempted suicide.'
Halpern nodded. 'What time are the sessions?'
'Usually early evenings. They can vary according to Mr. Shafer's work schedule.'
'Dr. Cassady, I direct your attention to the evening of the murder of Detective Hampton. Did Geoffrey Shafer have a therapy session with you that night?'
'Yes, he did. At nine p.m., nine until ten. I think he may have arrived a little earlier that night. But the session was scheduled for nine.'
'Could he have arrived as early as eight thirty?'
'No. That isn't possible. We were talking to each other on cell phones from the time he left his house in Kalorama until he arrived at my building. He was feeling a great deal of guilt about his latest dark mood coming too close to his daughters' birthday party.'
'I see. Was there any break in your conversation with Colonel Shafer?'
'Yes. But it was a very short one.'
Halpern kept the pace brisk. 'How much time passed between the time the two of you stopped talking on the cell phone and his arrival at your office?'
'Two or three minutes, five at the most. While he parked and came upstairs. No more than that.'
'When he arrived at your office, did Geoffrey Shafer seem unsettled in any way?'
'No, not at all. He appeared relatively cheerful, actually. He had just hosted a successful birthday party for the twins. He felt it had gone very well and he dotes on his children.'
'Was he out of breath, tense, or perspiring?' Halpern asked.
'No. As I said, he was calm and looked quite fine. I remember it very clearly. And after the intrusion by the police, I made careful notes to keep everything accurate and fresh,' she said, then glanced at the prosecutor's table.
'So, you made notes for the sake of accuracy?'
'Yes, I did.'
'Dr. Cassady, did you notice any blood anywhere on Colonel Sharer's clothing?'
'No, I did not.'
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