Patterson, James - Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

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.