Privileged Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  ''It's not true?'' Josie asked, wanting Matthew on the record even though Archer was going to be checking this out no matter what was said.

  ''It is not true,'' Matthew answered flatly, speaking directly to Josie. ''I don't cheat on the women in my life.''

  ''We're really sorry about all this.'' Tim apologized to Matthew. ''We never imagined that keeping those papers would create a problem. After Michelle died it seemed like pouring salt into a wound if we showed them to Matthew. You already felt bad enough that you hadn't gone straight home from the airport or even called.''

  ''We really didn't think Michelle wanted to hurt you because the filing was sealed. We thought that meant Michelle was having second thoughts.'' Grace spun a story that left the heroine dead but the living exonerated. It was crap.

  ''Really?'' Josie drawled.

  ''Oh, yes, I'm sure she was. But then she got upset again. She just spiraled back down,'' Grace rushed on, happy to have an audience, unaware that Josie found her act nauseating. ''She was depressed and she didn't know which way to turn. I put my arms around her. I told her Matthew didn't love anyone but her. I told her that she should just trust Matthew because he cared so much about all of us and that when the election was over he would prove how much he loved her. Nobody else. Just her.''

  ''I see,'' Josie said quietly, taking note of the twirling ring. With each little bit of new information, Grace McCreary looked at Matthew for affirmation and Josie saw her client for what she was – a nut case, as disturbed as her sister-in-law – and Matthew the only steady point in either woman's life.

  ''Yes. Yes,'' Grace soothed. ''And I could see that she was agreeing with me but then Michelle just lost it. She started talking about all the people Matthew saw everyday and the women who wanted him because he would be powerful. She knew . . .'' the ring twirled and whirlygigged. Grace's breath came short ''In her mind, you see, Michelle just knew so many things. The stories she made up were ridiculous. Matthew wouldn't look at another woman. And I couldn't stop how crazy she was getting and she ran away and she jumped like I said. She just jumped because she knew, Matthew, she knew. . .''

  ''Are you going to make her relive this again? Hasn't she seen enough, been through enough?'' Matthew snapped, cutting off Grace's absurd soliloquy.

  ''It's nothing compared to what she's going to go through,'' Josie said flatly as she looked around the room. Helen Crane was examining the rings on her hand, stroking a particularly large pearl as if it was a crystal ball and she could see the future. Tim Douglas was looking askance at Grace. Archer was thinking the same thing Josie was so Josie articulated.

  ''That's the biggest load of bull I've ever heard.'' She sat upright. ''But, be that as it may, I can't force you to tell me the complete truth about any of this. So let's just think about what the prosecution will do with all this. Michelle withdraws her monetary support from the campaign and then files for divorce even though the primary is a few months off. Grace doesn't want to see her brother hurt personally or destroyed professionally. Grace handled the campaign finances. Grace had possession of the divorce papers. Grace was the last one to see Michelle alive. People have killed for a lot less, opportunity is unquestioned, means is self evident.''

  ''But that doesn't make sense,'' Tim insisted. ''Michelle was despondent over her relationship with Matthew. The divorce papers prove it. She thought her marriage was over and that makes it a motive for her to kill herself. You can argue that.''

  ''Only in the movies,'' Josie answered. ''A woman might chuck her psychiatrist if she's going to check out, she might not see her priest, but she doesn't file for divorce. The prosecution will argue that action implies that Michelle was ready to move on. She engaged an attorney, she made plans, she was concerned enough with publicity that she had the file sealed. A woman that smart and resourceful doesn't suddenly throw herself off a balcony.''

  ''You didn't know Michelle. She changed her mind half a dozen times a day,'' Matthew interjected. ''She could get worked up over wearing the wrong colored shoes with the wrong outfit.''

  ''A temper tantrum is different than being self destructive. She had to have a damn good reason for the divorce and the suicide. So, Matthew, if you've got a woman stashed somewhere tell me now.'' Josie waited. ''Grace, Tim, if you know who the other woman was let's hear it.''

  Grace shook her head. The ring was still turning. Tim hung his head. Matthew looked away and Josie was sick of this whole thing.

  ''Archer, you checked into the attorney?''

  Archer nodded. ''I did. He's a sole practitioner in Malibu. He had never seen Michelle before. She walked in without an appointment. She paid him a good fee and asked him to expedite the matter. He likes to tie up loose ends so he withdrew the petition three weeks later because the divorce was a moot point.''

  ''Did he discuss cause of action?''

  Archer looked over at Matthew. Tim Douglas lowered his eyes.

  ''He filed it as irreconcilable differences,'' Archer said, waited a beat and then added. ''But he also said that Michelle McCreary indicated it was about another woman.''

  ''Oh, please,'' Helen lost interest in her orb of a pearl. ''Michelle of all people wouldn't make infidelity grounds for divorce. Look at her mother. She hung around that bastard of a husband of hers forever. Michelle may not have liked the game but she knew the score.''

  ''Even if Matthew had ten women on the side it wouldn't hurt him at the polling booth. Every woman would fantasize about him and men would admire him if they perceive him to be a player. Look at Clinton, the Kennedys. It's no different.''

  ''It is different, Helen,'' Matthew insisted. ''I wasn't unfaithful to Michelle. Period.''

  ‘It doesn't matter if you were or if you weren't, Matthew,'' Josie argued. ''What matters is that Grace believed Michelle's accusations would cause you to loose the one thing you wanted – the election. It's what was in Grace's head that we have to worry about.'' Josie put her hands on her knees. Her fingers sparkled. She had painted her nails and to Archer's eye it looked odd but that was the only thing out of place about Josie. ''Come on, Grace, what do you know about the woman Michelle was worried about?''

  Every eye in the room turned on Grace. Her lips parted, her eyes darted to Matthew and the color drained from her face.

  ''Don't look at him, Grace. Don't even think about Matthew. If you know something, tell us because it's your life. Do you think he would stand up for you if things were reversed?''

  ''I can't. I can't say it. . .'' Grace shook her head hard.

  ''Drop it, Josie,'' Matthew warned. ''Drop it. There was no other woman in my life. Grace, just shut up. Don't say another word.''

  Matthew started to rise but Archer was fast. He had his hand on Matthew McCreary's shoulder and pushed him back into his chair.

  ''Let the lady talk,'' he suggested.

  ''Mind your own damn business,'' Matthew growled and wrenched away from him. He was out of his chair, descending upon Josie, caging her with his body putting his hands on either side of her chair. ''I need to talk to you alone.''

  Josie pushed him aside, shouldered him out of the way until she stood in the middle of the room, angry at being played by these ridiculous people who gambled with their lives and her integrity, who bluffed with the truth.

  ''No, you don't talk to me alone. This is the end of the line. I'm tired of hearing one obscure, speculative thing from you and another from her.'' Josie tossed her head Grace's way. ''And then there's good old Tim who tries to smooth over everything with a little groveling. You're all telling me Michelle was crazy, Grace pretends to be her spiritual advisor, you're supposed to be a grieving husband but I doubt you spent more than ten minutes with your wife in the last year. So listen up. Nobody files for divorce without a reason. Nobody jumps off a balcony without a reason and nobody pushes someone off without a reason so somebody give me a reason. Who was the other woman in all this stupidity?''

  ''Josie, please,'' Matthew hissed. ''Let me talk to you. It will clear
everything up. I promise.''

  ''You're all one big happy family, Matthew. You want to clear this up then clear it up for all of us,'' she challenged

  ''What about him?'' Matthew jerked his head toward Archer.

  ''Archer works for me. Privilege adheres,'' Josie spat back.

  ''Not for Helen, not for Tim,'' Matthew insisted.

  ''They can leave.'' Josie waved a hand at each of them in turn. ''Or I'll argue hearsay if P.J. calls them to testify. Choose fast, or I swear I'll go to P.J. myself and tell her about the other woman because your dead wife deserves some kind of justice.''

  Matthew's face turned to stone. Two high points of color tinted his cheeks on his otherwise pale visage. He seemed to struggle and finally something inside him broke.

  ''Okay. You want to know about the other person in my marriage?'' He moved closer to Josie. He turned his shoulder into her. His voice was low.

  ''Matthew, please,'' Grace begged but there was no room in this moment for her.

  ''Speak up, Matthew. Be a man for once,'' Josie demanded. His head jerked up. He paled with anger.

  ''You used to think I was man enough.''

  ''Times change. I grew up,'' Josie answered.

  ''Yeah, okay. You're right. Some people have things to lose. Obviously you don't. You like this honesty crap? You want me to be honest?'' He looked around the room. ''Well, here it is. Maybe I didn't have another woman. Did anyone ever think about that? You know, just because Michelle is dead doesn't make her a saint. Did anyone – anyone – ever even imagine that maybe I was the wronged party in this marriage and Grace won't admit it?''

  Matthew's headed bobbled up and down as he turned a slow circle in the middle of the room. His smile was mechanical, the fingers of one hand curled toward them, egging them to take him on.

  ''Matthew,'' Grace breathed. ''Matthew, don't say that. Don't. . .''

  ''Oh, Christ. . .'' Tim whistled.

  ''I'm sick of hearing your voice, Grace,'' Matthew said disdainfully.

  ''God,'' Helen Crane muttered and turned her head.

  ''You want to hear the truth? Okay. She called me. She called me while I was up North and confessed. She said. . .'' his eyes darted here and there and rested on Helen. ''She said. . .'' his hands came together like he was praying and he looked at Josie. ''She said she couldn't live with herself. She said she felt so dirty. God couldn't forgive the sin.''

  ''Why didn't you tell that to the police, Matthew?'' Josie asked quietly. ''They could have investigated.''

  ''Oh right. Like I'm going to do that,'' he cackled with a desperate laugh. ''Because I didn't have a clue what she was talking about then. But now it all makes sense, and I think you know what I mean.''

  ''Tell me anyway, Matthew,'' Josie urged, unable to look away from this train wreck.

  ''Okay, Josie. Maybe my wife had a lover.'' Slowly Matthew McCreary turned toward his sister. The bottle had finished spinning and it was pointing right at Grace. ''Maybe she loved Grace. Maybe Grace loved her back. What do you think? Did I get it right, sister dear?''

  CHAPTER 32

  Grace let out a howl so piercing that Helen Crane joined in with one of her own. Josie gasped just as she reacted, intercepting Grace who rushed her brother, hands out, nails ready to tear at him.

  ''Don't say that! That's a lie!'' Grace screamed.

  Matthew backed away; backed up to Helen who had stood the minute he made his proclamation. She looked as surprised as any of them, but Josie doubted she was shocked. Women like her had seen it all; most had done it all. Tim Douglas, on the other hand, was whiter than his pin-tucked formal shirt. Archer kept his distance. Too many cooks in a hot kitchen scalded them all. Besides, Josie was handling it.

  Of course, that was Archer's opinion. Josie wasn't handling anything. Grabbing Grace had everything to do with instinct and nothing to do with a plan. Josie had managed to get a good hold on Grace but the other woman leaned backward, using Josie's own strength against her. Hampered by her gown and the unaccustomed high heels, Josie lost her balance and stumbled. As Grace whipped herself out of Josie's grasp Archer stepped in. His arm went ‘round her shoulders. She pulled against him, grunting, angered by his restraint.

  ''Hey, take it down. Damn,'' he snapped when Grace buried her teeth in his hand.

  Expertly, Archer readjusted and Grace was locked down even though she still pulled against him and cursed as Matthew let loose a volley of accusations.

  ''Don't deny it, Grace. Something was going on between you two. I saw it every time you were together. Knowing you, you'd sleep with anyone. You're a slut Grace. You're lucky I let you come back.''

  ''Shut up.'' Josie swung toward him and screamed. ''Matthew, stop it.''

  ''I won't. I'm sick to death of this whole thing. Grace and Michelle always had their heads together. Whispering and keeping secrets and sharing. . .'' The last was drawn out with such bitterness that it stunned even Josie and, in that, instant she understood it. Matthew's patience had run out, his anger and grief was boiling over and he needed someone to blame for what his life had become. ''You want to know what happened on that balcony, Josie? It was probably a lover's spat. Admit it Grace. Come on. Admit you haven't told anyone the truth. You and Michelle were lovers, weren't you? Weren't you?''

  ''No, no. No,'' Grace cried, tears falling from her eyes. ''No, I wouldn't. Not like that. . . Never like that. . .'' Grace wailed.

  She sagged in Archer's arms and cried in earnest. He held her up, turned her into him, held her close against his body as she denied, denied, denied. Matthew sunk onto a chair. He put his head in his hands. His legs were wide apart and his elbows were propped on his knees. Helen Crane, shaken and silent, was at the bar filling her glass to the brim with bourbon and nothing else. The rustle of her gown underscored Grace's whimpers. Tim Douglas hung back by the door as if he'd like to make his escape but was afraid to draw attention to himself. The minutes ticked by and Grace's lament faded to an intermittent hiccough of misery.

  ''Well.'' Helen was the first to speak. She crossed the room. ''This certainly poses some interesting problems.''

  Matthew raised his eyes. He looked exhausted as if the collective years, not just these last minutes, had taken their toll. Grace turned her head, making no move to leave the protection of Archer's arms.

  ''Why are you doing this to me, Matthew?'' Her voice small and pathetic.

  ''I'm not doing anything to you,'' he lamented wearily. He lifted his lifeless eyes to his sister. ''I did everything for you from the minute mom and dad died. But now it's different. There's so much at stake.''

  ''So much at stake?'' she asked in disbelief. ''My life is at stake.''

  Grace moved. Archer's let her go. Matthew steeled himself for her attack. Instead, Grace threw herself at her brother's feet. Her cheek was on his knees her arms wrapped around his leg.

  ''Don't do this. Don't do this. I loved Michelle but not that way. I would never hurt you like that. Never, ever. I love you so much.''

  Matthew closed his eyes. His hands hovered in the air until, finally, he touched his sister's head, lowered his own, kissed her hair as if she were still a child.

  ''Grace, Grace,'' he whispered and tightened his grasp. ''I don't know what to think anymore. You should have just stayed away.''

  ''But you came to get me,'' she sobbed.

  Josie couldn't bear to watch and neither could anyone else. Helen was drinking. Archer was wandering toward Tim Douglas who stood with his back against the door, his mouth hanging slack in amazement. When she finally looked back nothing had changed. Matthew's lips were still buried in his sister's hair. His eyes were closed as were hers. Grace's body shuddered with her quiet sobs.

  From the first Josie had been aware of Grace's plainness underneath her exquisite make-up. But now, in her distress, Josie saw that a vulnerable Grace was beautiful. Her hair was tousled; the top buttons of her shirt had come loose. Grace's neck was long and white. In profile her face looked like an alabaster reli
ef, an antiquity drawn from the depths of the sea. Her cries had stopped. Grace was quiet. Matthew whispered in her ear. Everyone strained to listen but only the only sound was his murmur, the only sign that Grace understood him was that her body relaxed.

  Tim Douglas collapsed onto a chair near the doorway. Archer folded his arms and looked past brother and sister to a point on the far wall. Helen Crane's nose was still buried in her bourbon. Josie watched, drawn to the two, mesmerized by Matthew's gentleness as he smoothed Grace's hair back and watched his sister's face.

  ''You promised,'' Grace whispered, '' To take care of me. . . .if I was good . . .''

  Josie couldn't hear it all. She leaned even closer but Matthew was suddenly aware of her proximity. Embarrassed, perhaps cautious, Matthew wanted the moment to remain private so he leaned over Grace and soothed her with his whispers like he would a skittish pet. Then Matthew said the wrong thing. Without warning Grace threw him off. Her face was alive with resentment and rage. Matthew sprang from the chair as she beat at him. Finally, he had her wrists and he struggled to control her.

  ''You see?'' he called to them all ''See how she is? And you wonder what she could have done to Michelle?''

  With a final utterance, an ‘oh no' of despair Grace fell against him as if her heart was dead and her soul was empty. Josie was sick at the sight of it. Matthew took his sister's face in his hands, touched his forehead against hers. It was impossible to look away.

  ''You'll be all right, Grace. Everything will be all right.''

  ''I wasn't her lover,'' Grace murmured. ''I'm not your enemy. I just loved you. Why do you think I'm the enemy?''

  ''I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I know you loved her. ''