The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  "Damn you," Josie growled. "Why didn't you tell me Michelle had filed for divorce?"

  CHAPTER 34

  Helen Crane was encased in an intricate getup that Archer knew to be couture. The jewels on her ears, neck and wrists were stunning—some so large they didn't look real. Her hair was backswept and her face had been upswept but she still didn't look as good as Josie.

  Matthew McCreary's tux was worn like a piece of armor that guarded against the prejudices of a democratic caste system of bank accounts. A tux leveled any playing field. All men looked handsome, well groomed and well-to-do when they wore one. It wasn't until you peeled the damn thing off after a long night that you found out if the prize inside was worth the wrapping.

  Together Matthew and Helen Crane were a united front but it was clear the lady was in the lead. She had introduced herself, pried Josie's hands off Matthew McCreary with a word rather than a gesture and seamlessly invited her guests to enjoy the party while they took their discussion elsewhere. Rich or poor, free food and booze plus a little scandal had the same effect on everyone—it was all good.

  "I've been hearing so much about you, Ms. Bates." Helen chatted while she offered drinks, then poured and delivered them herself. "Now I can see why you're such a good lawyer. You don't stand on ceremony. You're very straightforward."

  "You're going to have to start using the past tense because I was a good lawyer. I'm just about to lose a big one." Josie didn't take her eyes off Matthew as she spoke. "No one bothered to tell me that Michelle McCreary filed for divorce and that's going to be a nail in Grace's coffin that I can't pull out."

  "That's just absurd." Matthew laughed. "Michelle would never have done that."

  "Papers were filed in superior court and if they were filed, they were served," Josie shot back.

  "Then I never got them." Matthew threw up his hands. "What is it with you, Josie? You've been on my case since the first night I saw you. Why do you want to make me the bad guy?"

  "I didn't make you the bad guy. You did it to yourself from the minute you put your campaign above Grace's welfare—or your wife's," Josie reminded him. "You manipulated your sister, getting her to lie to me when you knew she was on the balcony. You knew she didn't leave right after Michelle fell. Instead of telling me Michelle was keeping some sort of record or diary, you took your own house apart looking for it so I would never know it existed. Now this! A divorce. The prosecution is going to have a field day."

  "I resent those accusations and, besides, what difference do divorce papers make? It's not a motive for murder."

  "You're stupid, Matthew. Beyond stupid," Josie snapped.

  "Why, you . . ." Matthew moved toward her as if itching for a fight.

  "Ms. Bates! Matthew!" Helen Crane called, outraged that this should be happening in her home, with her candidate. Matthew dropped into a chair. Josie fairly vibrated with fury. Now it was personal. Helen Crane took a deep breath and took over. "Ms. Bates, I have to agree with Matthew. Michelle often threatened to divorce Matthew. We all knew she never would."

  "Well, then, the joke's on you. She filed," Josie answered. "Add that to the change in her will, her withdrawal of campaign contributions and the prosecution argues that Michelle was making a new life for herself. Don't you get it? Now P.J. will have evidence to disprove suicide, and that proves murder in a jury's mind."

  One by one, they came to an understanding, but she helped them along.

  "Judge Belote might just agree that Michelle McCreary was planning to start a new life, not end the one she had."

  "Absurd," Helen scoffed. "She wanted Matthew's attention that's all. What woman hasn't done something ridiculous to get the attention of the man she loved?"

  "I haven't," Josie snapped.

  "My, my. Aren't you exceptional, Miss Bates," Helen said. A chill fell over the room, silencing everyone but Josie. Women like Helen Crane didn't scare her.

  "No, I'm a lawyer who sees my client getting ready to be indicted for murder on evidence that Matthew helped to suppress."

  "He says he didn't and I believe him," Helen answered. "Ms. Bates, ever since Michelle was a child everything she did was calculated to draw attention to the pressures of a public life. Threatening divorce was a ploy she often used. It didn't work. It's not a stretch to imagine Michelle threatening to jump off the balcony for the same reason. She probably thought Grace would make a call and Matthew would come to the rescue. Her last little drama just backfired. If I had any doubts that Michelle took her own life, do you think I would still be publicly supporting Matthew?"

  Josie laughed at such absurdity, "Of course you would."

  "I do like you, Ms. Bates," Helen said warmly. "You're like a man: rude under the guise of honesty."

  "Okay, that's it." Matthew called a halt to the sparring. "I'm sick of this. I barely spoke to Michelle in the weeks before she died. She was in one of her self-serving snits and I just didn't have the time or the inclination to deal with it."

  "Matthew," Helen warned but he would have none of her caution.

  "Oh, the hell with it." He crossed the room and took out his frustration on the bar. Bottle after bottle passed through his hands. The slam and rattle were percussion to the sad song he was singing. "My wife was selfish and neurotic and pampered. She was afraid of everything: of people looking into our lives and other people ignoring us, of God punishing us because we were living wrong or living too well. Michelle thought it was a curse because we didn't have children. I thank God we didn't." He turned on Helen. "Can you imagine a child with that basket case?"

  "Michelle was delicate. You knew that when you married," Helen reminded him.

  "She was a taker. You knew that when we married and you could have clued me in." Matthew looked at Josie and Archer. His audience was enthralled and this was a performance Matthew had been dying to give. "Michelle was brilliant. She brought passive aggressiveness to a high art. The only thing she was afraid of was defeat, the only thing she wanted was defeat. She didn't want to be a nobody but she wouldn't lift a finger to make herself a somebody. She was a Goddamn emotional leech and then she blamed everyone else because the blood she was sucking wasn't good enough. I would have been thrilled if she divorced me."

  "But she died instead and Grace was there when she did," Josie reminded him. "Grace, who is devoted to you. She confronts Michelle about the money and a divorce just before the election and pushes her when your wife refuses to back off. A jury will love this: ambition and money, women fighting over a rich, handsome man's welfare—"

  "Then do your job and argue the real story." Matthew slammed her back. "I was ambitious, my sister wanted to help me by reasoning with my nutcase of a wife. Hell, Josie, you got a woman off for killing her husband, this should be a breeze since Grace didn't kill Michelle. So put up or shut up."

  A knock stopped Josie before she could respond. Everyone looked as Tim Douglas opened the door for Grace McCreary, then he followed her in. She was gorgeous and regal, standing there in a teal-colored gown that showed her shoulders to their best advantage. Her dark hair was swept behind ears from which hung giant teardrops of diamonds. The emerald was on her finger. Her arms hung by her side, her fingers were still.

  "Tim told me what happened." She addressed them all but kept her eyes on Matthew. "I'm sorry, I was outside having a cigarette or I would have been here sooner."

  "Well, you're here now," Matthew snapped. "So, you want to tell Josie how often Michelle threatened to leave me?"

  Grace's eyes flickered toward Josie.

  "No, but I will tell her that Michelle did file for divorce. I signed for the papers. I asked Tim not to tell Matthew about them. Tim put them in his desk at the office. I'm assuming they are still there."

  Grace delivered her speech beautifully and her audience reacted in character. Helen Crane looked at her with an odd admiration. Archer was checking out the woman he had heard so much about. Josie was furious with Grace and shamed tha
t she had accused Matthew. Matthew seemed stunned and then angry but Grace controlled the moment.

  "Now, I'd like to talk to my brother alone," she said.

  "Oh no you don't; not this time," Matthew insisted. "Whatever you have to say you can say in front of everyone."

  Grace scanned the room, looking at each of them in turn until her gaze rested on her brother. She offered him a sweet, tight-lipped smile as if he was a little boy who didn't understand what was good for him.

  "No, Matthew. This time it is between us."

  ***

  "I swear I saw her. She's living over in Torrance. I had to get off the freeway for some smokes and there she was. Suzy O'Connel." Pete lined up his shot, threading the pool cue through his fingers then readjusting his hold as if he just couldn't quite set up right. But what he was really doing was trying to ignore what Josh was saying.

  "So, should I tell Kevin or what?" Josh asked.

  "I don't know. Maybe we should just stay out of the whole thing." Pete pulled the cue back and snapped it forward. He missed the ball. Josh chuckled. Pete wasn't in a laughing mood. "Look, Josh, we took care of that guy who came snooping around. No big deal. But I've been with Kevin when he was talking about doing other stuff that wasn't so great. He was going to scare some kids. He got locked up because he went after Suzy's attorney."

  "Did he do anything to her?"

  Pete shook his head and furrowed his brow. "I don't think so. I mean, she's okay and all. He said he was just talking to her and she called a cop."

  "Yeah, well, he should have left her alone. Never screw with the lawyer." Josh nodded knowingly and lit up a cigarette. "Look, it was just a thought. I mean, he's been looking for Suzy and I know where she is. So I figured I'd tell him—unless you want to tell him."

  Pete shook his head. "I don't think he should know. We ought to let Suzy just be by herself. You know?"

  Josh put his cigarette to his mouth and thought about that. He thought so long that Pete got tired of waiting for him to agree. He said his good nights and went home. Cheryl was waiting with complaints about the kids and grumbles about the roof. Pete promised to fix the roof and when she moved her face like she didn't want him to kiss her he went and kissed the kids instead. It didn't make him feel any better about Suzy O'Connel, but Pete was the kind of guy who took what he could get.

  CHAPTER 35

  "Do you believe her?"

  Archer and Josie were still sitting in the circular drive of Helen Crane's house fifteen minutes after Grace and Matthew had finished talking.

  "Tim corroborated that he had the divorce papers. I trust him," Josie said. "You?"

  "I'm on board," Archer agreed.

  "It doesn't change anything. The fact that they never got into Matthew's hands only makes Grace look worse—conniving, controlling, anything to keep Matthew clean. Man, P.J.'s going to kill us with this one if she finds out."

  "She would have brought it up by now if she knew." Archer adjusted his legs. He was cramped in the Jeep and longing for his Hummer.

  "Maybe you're right."

  Josie took a deep breath through her nose and blew it out through her lips. Both hands were on the steering wheel and she was looking through the windshield at an empty expanse of driveway. All the guests were gone. Tim had taken Grace home. Matthew and Helen were huddled inside the mansion talking strategy. Neither Grace nor Matthew had offered an explanation for their private meeting. The only thing Josie knew was that Matthew looked sick when he came out of the room and Grace looked almost beatific, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

  "What do you really think went on in there when Grace and Matthew were alone?" she asked quietly.

  "God only knows, Jo," Archer answered. "Whatever it was it shook McCreary up bad."

  "Yes, indeed it did," Josie mused as she started the car. "I wonder if we'll ever know."

  "I wonder why we would want to," Archer said and sat up straight.

  "Good point," Josie granted and headed home.

  ***

  The guests were long gone. The caterer cleaned and polished in another part of the house. The maid was locking up. Helen heard those noises so clearly but she had to strain to hear the sounds of Matthew's footsteps. Yet, when Matthew stood beside her it seemed as if there had been no warning of his approach. Perhaps she had dozed and that was why she didn't hear him. But here he was, a shell of the man he had been just hours ago. Helen took one of his cold hands in her two warm ones. It slipped out of her gasp.

  What did Grace say?" she asked cautiously.

  When Matthew didn't speak—or couldn't speak— Helen became concerned. When he fell to his knees on the floor in front of her, arms hanging slack by his sides, and began to cry, Helen Crane became terrified.

  Gathering him into her arms she shushed Matthew and held him until he quieted. It took longer than she expected but finally he was silent. His head was in her lap now and she was stroking his hair. She waited until he was ready to talk and when he spoke Matthew McCreary began with exclamations of disbelief. He strung nonsensical words together, attempted sentences that lacked punctuation and paragraphs that had no end. Helen listened carefully, putting together the clues of the puzzle, her petting slowing, then stopping completely as she realized what he was saying. Suddenly she felt so old and powerless. The two things she feared the most in the entire world.

  "I don't know what to do," Matthew muttered over and over again, turning his head now and again to bury his face in the folds of her gown.

  Helen didn't want his tears to stain the silk nor did she want to hear his muffled whimpering. Disgusted, Helen pushed Matthew's head away. It fell onto his crossed arms as she stood up. She didn't know what to do either, but damned if she was going to go down without a fight. She had too much invested in Matthew McCreary to quit now no matter how appalling this new information was. Whoever said confession was good for the soul was wrong. Matthew might as well put a gun to his head if this got out. In fact, it would be preferable to what could happen if it did.

  Leaving Matthew to his self-pity, Helen walked her mansion. Alone she went through the dark rooms, past the huge paintings and fabulous furniture. The staff had gone to bed, the caterer was long gone. Helen Crane prowled the house and with each step she was closer to a solution. There was risk involved, of course, but the stakes were high and the motivation greater than any risk. Helen found herself in the sunroom when the last of her plan fell into place. But she was a cautious woman and took more than a moment to rethink it all. When she was satisfied that every eventuality had been considered, Helen went to her office. Once there she took a moment to herself. The tall windows were hidden behind heavy curtains, the walls were encased in dark wood, the furniture was heavy and Helen felt more alive than she ever had. This was how the world should work: one powerful person setting things in motion with a nod of the head, a flip of the hand, a simple phone call. What she was about to do would indebt Matthew and establish Helen as a master of the game. With a chuckle Helen picked up the phone and contacted the woman who could turn everything around. When that was done, she woke Matthew McCreary.

  "Get up, Matthew. Come on, dear heart. You can't sleep on the floor tonight. You need to be ready for tomorrow. It's going to be a big day."

  It took everything Helen had to wake him gently, when all she wanted to do was slap him. Finally, she got Matthew on his feet, helping him to the guestroom without telling him what she had done. It would be ridiculous to give Matthew time to object and ill-advised to let him agonize over all this. Tomorrow would be so much more effective if Matthew was fresh and surprised. That would work in everyone's favor.

  When they reached the guestroom Helen stripped Matthew McCreary to his underwear. He was a handsome thing but his moaning and whining kept Helen from admiration. She whipped the fine bedspread back and guided him to the mattress. When he grabbed her hand, blubbering about how sorry he was, asking for her forgive
ness, Helen extricated herself with no thought for hurting his feelings.

  "Don't do that, Matthew," she snapped.

  "I'm sorry. I'm sorry . . ." he cried and buried his head in the pillow.

  Helen left him alone, closed the door and went to her own bedroom. She left her gown on the floor, put her jewels in the safe and got into her own bed. In the dark, Helen Crane pulled the covers over her bare shoulders, closed her eyes and fell asleep thinking it was a pity she wouldn't be able to take a public bow for this brilliant piece of maneuvering, but seeing it unfold would be reward enough.

  ***

  "Is it over? Grace?"

  Tim Douglas had seen Matthew's ashen face, listened to his halting apologies to Josie Bates about the divorce papers, and seen the mechanical way he bid everyone good night. Tim saw the way Matthew couldn't look at Helen Crane. He had gone through the motions of damage control but it was like watching a windup toy. Matthew McCreary wasn't just disappointed, he was devastated and it had to do with more than the divorce.

  "Grace!"

  "What?" She turned her strange eyes his way, seemingly surprised to find she was still in the car with him. "Oh, here we are. I'm sorry for the trouble. It was all my fault."

  "Grace, it was both our faults. I just want to know if it's over. The campaign, I mean. Is Matthew withdrawing?"

  Grace blinked—all of her. Sparkle on her eyes, her dress, her ears. Each time she made a gesture Grace McCreary seemed to wink as if they were sharing a little joke. But this was no joke. This was his livelihood and he didn't want to go down in the flame of scandal. It would be better to get the jump. Resign. Save himself. He didn't owe Matthew McCreary a thing.

  "Don't be ridiculous. Of course not. You have to have faith, Tim. That's what Michelle would have wanted," Grace said quietly, so sure of herself.

  "But ..."

  "Just trust me. I care too much about Matthew to let anything hurt him. I care too much about you, too. I never told you that, and I should have. You've been very kind to me." Grace McCreary put her fingertips to Tim's lips and then put her mouth on his. She drew back and their faces were close enough that he could believe she was truly beautiful. Tim reached for her but Grace was already leaving. He heard the rustle of satin, the pop of the car door opening. When she moved a silky kite tail of scent trailed her. Rich and expensive, it clung to Grace the way her devotion to Matthew and Michelle had—devotion that now included him.