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

'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.'

'I see. You saw no blood on Shafer. And when Detective Cross arrived, did you see any blood on him?'

'Yes, I saw dark stains or streaks' of blood on his shirt and suit coat. Also on his hands.'

Jules Halpern paused to let everything sink in with the jury. Then he asked a final question. 'Did Colonel Shafer look as if he had just murdered someone?'

'No, certainly not.'

'I have nothing further,' said the defense attorney.

Daniel Weston did the cross-exam for the prosecution. He was twenty-nine years old, bright, quick-witted, a rising star, and known to be a ruthless hatchet man in the prosecutor's office.

Dan Weston was also good-looking, blond, and rugged. He got physically close to Boo Cassady. They made a fetching couple, which was the visual idea he wanted to communicate.

'Ms. Cassady, you weren't Mr. Shafer's psychiatrist, were you?'

She frowned slightly, but then managed a weak smile. 'No, a psychiatrist has to be a medical doctor. You know that, I'm sure.'

'And you are not a medical doctor?'

She shook her head. 'I am not. I have a doctorate in sociology. You know that, too.'

'Are you a psychologist?' Weston asked.

'A psychologist usually has a graduate degree in psychology, sometimes a Ph.D.'

'Do you have a graduate degree in psychology?'

'No. I'm a psychotherapist.'

'I see. Where was your training to be a psychotherapist?'

'American University. I graduated with a Ph.D. in social work.'

Daniel Weston kept coming at Cassady. There was hardly a beat between question and answer. 'This “psycho-therapy office” of yours at the Farragut. What sort of furnishings does it have?'

'A couch, desk, lamp. It's basically very spare. Lots of plants, though. My patients find the atmosphere functional but also relaxing.'

'No box of tissues by the couch? I thought that was a must.' Weston said with a thin smile.

The witness was clearly annoyed now, and maybe even shaken. 'I take my work very seriously, Mr. Weston. So do my patients.'

'Was Geoffrey Shafer referred to you by someone?'

'Actually, we met in the National Gallery... at the Picasso Erotic Drawing Exhibit. That's been covered in depth by the press.'

Weston nodded, and a thin smile crossed his lips. 'Ah, I see. Are your sessions with Geoffrey Shafer erotic? Do you ever discuss sex?'

Jules Halpern rose quickly; a regular Jules-in-the-box. 'Objection! Doctor/patient privilege. It's confidential.'

The young prosecutor shrugged, flipped back his blond curls with his hand. 'I'll withdraw the question. No problem. Are you a sexual surrogate?'

'No, I am not. As I stated earlier, I am a psychotherapist.'

'On the evening of the murder of Detective Hampton, did you and Geoffrey Shafer discuss--'

Jules Halpern quickly rose again. 'Objection. If the prosecution is inquiring into the patient's privileged disclosures--'

Weston raised both arms in frustration. He smiled at the jury, hoping they felt the same way. 'All right, all right. Let me see. I'll take this out of the so-called doctor/patient realm and ask you, quite simply, if you, Ms. Cassady, a woman, have had sexual relations with Geoffrey Shafer, a man?'

Elizabeth 'Boo' Cassady hung her head and stared down at her lap.

Daniel Weston smiled, even as Jules Halpern objected to the question and was upheld by Judge Fescoe. Weston felt that he had made his point.

Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel

CHAPTER Ninety-Six

'Call Detective Alex Cross.'

I took a deep breath, composed my mind, body, soul, then walked up the wide center aisle of the courtroom to testify. Everyone in the room was watching me, but the only person I really saw was Geoffrey Shafer. The Weasel. He was still playing the part of the wronged innocent man and I wanted to bring him down. I wanted to cross-examine him myself, to ask the real questions that needed to be asked, to tell the jury about all the suppressed evidence, to bring justice crashing down on him with all its force.

It was a hard thing to have worked honestly for so many years - and now be accused of being a rogue cop, someone who had tampered with evidence, and maybe worse. It was ironic, but now maybe I had the opportunity to set the record straight; to clear my name.

Jules Halpern smiled cordially at me as I sat down in the witness stand. He established eye contact, quickly looked over at the jury, then back at me. His dark eyes radiated intelligence and it seemed an incredible waste that he was working for Shafer.

'I want to start by saying that it is an honor to meet you, Detective Cross. For years I, like most of the jurors I'm sure, have read in the Washington papers about the murder cases you have helped solve. We admire your past record.'

I nodded and even managed a grudging smile of my own. 'Thank you. I hope you'll admire my present and future record as well,' I said.

'Let's hope so, Detective.' Halpern said. He moved on. We parried for half an hour or so, before he asked, 'You suffered a terrible personal tragedy a short time before the arrest of Colonel Shafer. Could you tell us about it?'

I fought the urge to reach out and grab the polite-sounding, insidious little man by the neck. I leaned closer to the mike, struggled for control.

'Someone dear to me was kidnapped while we were in Bermuda on vacation. She's still missing. I haven't given up hope that she'll be found. I pray every day that she's still alive.'

Halpern clucked sympathetically. He was good, much like his client. 'I really am sorry. Did the department give you adequate time off?'