Privileged Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  ''What?'' Kevin O'Connel laughed once and stepped away as he let go of her. ''Yeah, right. Funny. You're such a. . .''

  ''Is everything all right, Ms. Bates?''

  Josie started at the sound of Horace Babcock's voice. He was right behind her: crisp, courteous and giving Kevin O'Connel a look that drilled a hole through his skull.

  ''She's fuckin' fine. And this is a private conversation,'' O'Connel shot back, unimpressed until Babcock pushed back his jacket. His shield was on his belt. Babcock inclined his head and smiled his condolences for Kevin O'Connel's lack of intelligence.

  ''I'm glad to hear that. I was worried that you might be having a difference of opinion.''

  ''No. No beef. Just a friendly conversation.'' O'Connel puffed up his chest and pushed at his shirt sleeves.

  ''Good. Excellent. Then it appears you're finished here.'' Babcock dismissed Kevin O'Connel. ''So, Ms. Bates, could I interest you in lunch?''

  ''Sure,'' Josie muttered. Babcock touched the small of her back and they moved on.

  She knew the instant Kevin O'Connel stopped looking after her, the second he walked away. He hadn't left with his tail between his legs and that worried her but Babcock seemed to have forgotten him.

  He ordered two polish sausages and sodas from a street vendor who was happy for the business. They sat under the shade of a tree on a low wall that surrounded the courthouse. Babcock offered Josie a napkin. He opened her soda. Fast food chivalry. They finished off half their meal before either of them spoke.

  ''Is he a dissatisfied client?'' Babcock asked.

  ''Nope.'' Josie took a drink and let the cold can rest on one knee. The hand holding the hot dog rested on the other. She stared straight ahead, feeling tired and inept. She wasn't reaping the benefits of her victory for Susan and she had been stonewalled in her effort to help Grace. She sighed. ''He's the ex-husband of a client of mine. He almost killed her. We got a civil judgment and now we're trying to collect.''

  ''Is there anything to get?''

  ''He's a longshoreman. Twenty-seven years in. He had a lot of toys that suddenly disappeared. A boat, wave runners, a motorcycle. All sold off to friends for a buck. He says he's on partial disability now so garnishing his wages is an exercise in futility. I've got someone down at the docks trying to prove he's working regular hours plus overtime. If he is, I'll go after the union for paying him under the table. His wife deserves the money. She needs it bad.''

  ''How is she living while she waits?''

  ''We've got just enough coming in for O'Connel's lawyer to cry ‘good faith'. She found a part-time job to tide her over.'' Josie sighed. ''The good news is he doesn't know where she is. She's safe.''

  ''So instead of taking his frustration out on her, he's taking it out on you.'' Babcock crumpled the yellow paper that had wrapped his lunch, got up and threw it in the trashcan. When He sat down again he crossed one leg over the other and put on his sunglasses as if he was settling in after a picnic. ''Has there been anything physical where you're concerned?''

  ''Minor stuff. Pranks. That's all. I think I saw him outside my home. He knows about my – the girl who lives with me. My car was keyed last night.'' Josie finished off her sausage, too, but held onto the crumpled wrapping like a stress ball. ''Stupid fool. He pretended like he hadn't done it. I guess I didn't give him enough credit. I thought he was just juvenile enough to want to crow about it.''

  ''Did anyone see him do it?'' Babcock asked.

  Josie shook her head.

  ''Then maybe he didn't do it. Where does he live?''

  ''San Pedro.''

  ''And you?''

  ''Hermosa,'' she answered.

  ''I doubt he drove all that way just to vandalize your car in the middle of the night.'' Babcock shook his head. ''Perhaps he'd do that to burn down your house or break in but that kind of man prefers to see a woman's fear. If he was going to key your car, he would want you sitting inside watching it.''

  ''Then I would have him arrested.''

  ''Not if he swears it was an accident.''

  Josie shrugged, ''Maybe you're right. Maybe it wasn't him.''

  ''You could have made someone else angry.'' Babcock suggested. ''You can be bothersome.''

  ''If that was true you would have dropped the McCreary matter after I paid you that first visit,'' Josie laughed.

  ''Point well taken,'' Babcock agreed. ''But I saw the McCreary's leaving. You weren't with them and you're client wasn't happy when she left court.'' He plucked the paper out of her hand. Josie ambled along behind him as he went to dispose of it.

  ''Oh sure, my client put on her make-up and heels then drove over to key my car,'' Josie scoffed. ''Besides, if anyone should be mad it should be me.''

  ''How so?''

  ''Un-huh.'' Josie grinned at him. ''I'm not falling for it a second time, Babcock. You're just dying for me to cry on your shoulder, but you're on the other side. Thanks for lunch and the rescue.''

  ''Can't blame me for trying,'' Babcock said as she walked away then he called her back. ''Ms. Bates, would you like me to keep an eye on that woman?''

  ''Who? Grace McCreary?'' Josie asked, puzzled by his offer.

  ''No. The other one. That man's ex-wife. Tell me where she is, I'll try to call in some favors.''

  For a second, the briefest of moments, Josie thought about it. She pushed back her long bangs and decided not to take him up on his offer.

  ''No thanks, Babcock. Let's leave well enough alone,'' she said, ''We'll just pretend she doesn't even exist. We won't draw attention to her.''

  ''If you change your mind.'' He held out his card and Josie took it. His home number was on the back.

  ''Thanks. That's more thought then most people have ever given her.''

  ''Everyone needs someone in their corner,'' Babcock said and then offered a departing thought. ''Speaking of which, do you have a restraining order?''

  Josie shook her head.

  He suggested: ''Might be a good idea.

  ''Might be,'' she conceded.

  ''I'd say it's a very good idea. And, if you choose not to follow my advice, call me if you have trouble again.''

  ''I appreciate it,'' Josie said, embarrassed by his kindness, grateful he didn't point out she was being bullheaded.

  Straight as an arrow, done in court for the day, Babcock went the way of Kevin O'Connel and Josie took a minute for herself. Maybe Babcock was right. A restraining order to put Kevin O'Connel on notice wouldn't be a bad thing. But, if he didn't take a key to the Jeep, then who did? Kids afraid of being caught? No. They scratched and bolted. They didn't stop to draw a picture.

  Thinking about this, Josie took the first step to the courthouse only to hesitate. Standing in the shadow of the overhang, her vacant expression belying the intensity of her gaze, stood Grace McCreary. Briefly, their eyes met before Grace disappeared into the building leaving Josie to wonder if Babcock was onto something. Maybe Grace McCreary, the passive aggressive keeper of secrets and concealor of grudges, a woman who lived alone and seemingly had no life save for the one that revolved around her brother, was a night owl. Maybe it was Grace, afraid of every damn emotion including anger, who had taken a key to the car. Maybe it was Grace who watched Josie's house with those damned eyes of hers. Perhaps Grace thought Josie was a traitor to Michelle's memory. Maybe Grace McCreary was still a rebellious little girl behind the clothes and make-up and jewels. Grace might need Josie but maybe she didn't like her.

  Suddenly weary, Josie walked up the steps, down the hall and into the courtroom. It was now imperative to that Josie and Grace be a united front. Josie lowered her voice.

  ''There's nothing between Matthew and me. I didn't betray Michelle.''

  Grace offered Josie her profile. Her distant smile gave way to a sad, knowing one. Then her head dipped and turned. Those eyes, planted too close on either side of the bridge of her high-bridged nose, glittered. She put her hand on Josie's arm, the ring was still as she leaned close, put her lips to Josie's ear and
said:

  ''Get me out of here or I will go insane.''

  Chapter 27

  ''Mr. Douglas. Can you identify this report for the court?''

  P.J. Vega came at him like a bull elephant charging. His eyes darted toward Josie, even lit on Grace for a moment, but he was mesmerized by Vega's advances and the papers she thrust toward him. Tim craned his neck to look then pulled back like a tortoise wary of the hand trying to feed him.

  ''That is a report by the Independent Voters' For Fair Spending Practices.''

  ''And the purpose of that report is to track projected and actual spending of political campaigns, is that correct?'' P.J. asked.

  ''Yes.'' Tim moved uncomfortably. He pushed back the stick straight hair that refused to stay put. His nails were bitten to the quick. The tribulations of the McCreary clan were wreaking havoc on poor Mr. Douglas and P.J. Vega scratching at his door was just one thing too many.

  ''And can you tell the court what that report says about Mr. McCreary's campaign spending?'' P.J. pressed.

  ''It says that Mr. McCreary spent one point two million dollars in the early part of his campaign and another million and a half in the last three months.''

  ''Does the report also outline Matthew McCreary's projected spending for the upcoming final months of the primary campaign?''

  ''It does. The projected broadcast media budget for that time period was five million dollars. There were additional dollars earmarked for targeted print ads and direct mail as needed.''

  ''And what are the actual costs for media that is booked as of today,'' P.J. asked.

  ''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 prope
r 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.''