Character Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  ''What is happening here is just a dry run. There is nothing to worry about. I have covered all our bases. Worst case scenario, we end up in court. If we do, a defense is at the ready. Our arrangement is nothing that hasn't been done before. The only thing that sets us apart is the scope of our project. Remember that. We have almost four years invested at this level. We hope to have a lifetime investment once you hit Washington. Now pull yourself together. Let me monitor the situation with Gerry O'Doul and his lovely niece. You make the speeches. I'll manage the rest. If it makes you feel any better, I know a simple way to diffuse the whole thing.''

  ''You better, Richard, or I'm out of here.'' Carl shot up, unfolding himself to a glorious height. ''I mean it. I'll just go it on my own - win or lose. If I hear one more word from Gerry O'Doul, if that niece of his shows up on my doorstep asking questions, if whoever they're dealing with at Tysco starts sending me memos, then I'm cutting myself out of this picture.''

  ''I wouldn't advise that, Carl. I have a great deal invested. We all do,'' Richard reminded him quietly.

  ''Yeah, well I've got a whole life wrapped up in this, a reputation, not just money. Money means nothing.''

  ''Oh yes, money means something,'' Richard said, but he was talking to the mayor's back. That in and of itself was surprising. Carl Walsh had never turned his back on Richard before. If Richard had his way, he never would again.

  Alone, he sat back and thought. He thought about the person in his life to whom money meant everything and the woman in his life to whom appearances were everything. He thought about himself and what meant everything to him. Few people would guess it, but love and acceptance, meant everything to Richard Jacobsen. Only one person really knew that. Pity it wasn't the right one.

  An hour later, he put a simple plan into action. While he waited for his call to be put through, Richard thought about the world and knew that he understood it far better than Carl Walsh or Kathleen Cotter or even Gerry O'Doul.

  ''Did you have that looked at, Sarah?''

  Gerry touched her hair, careful not to rub against the ugly bruise beneath it. She shook her head. Kathleen's leg was propped up on an open drawer. She had stopped tapping her pen and was waiting for an answer.

  ''No, Louise took care of it last night. It's much better, thank you. I can open my eye now.'' She tried and the effect was horribly unattractive. Gerry patted her shoulder.

  ''I still think you should have had a doctor look at it. I think all of you should have had a doctor take a look at you.''

  He clicked his tongue at them all and their antics while he let his gaze roam around the room. They had moved to his office to be more comfortable. The place looked like a triage ward. Michael with his hand bandaged, Kathleen with her scraped knee, sore muscles and bruised head, Sarah with her terrible knot and Louise without a scratch. The last didn't surprise him.

  ''Gerry, we're fine. We're more concerned with the matter at hand. What do you think?''

  ''I don't think you have a leg to stand on,'' Gerry said, stifling a laugh, ''if you'll forgive the pun.''

  ''I don't know how you can say that,'' Kathleen huffed. ''We've got overwhelming evidence that Lionel was on to something not quite kosher at Tysco. Someone didn't want him to know about whatever it was. Why else would anyone be snooping around Sarah's house? I don't know many burglars who go to work in suits. She saw them. Her rabbits are dead. Lionel felt strongly enough about what he had found at Tysco to bring home paperwork and hide it. He was going over his supervisor's head to try and get some satisfaction and he didn't do drugs.'' Kathleen looked to her cohorts for help, knowing she'd missed something.

  ''And the police report,'' Michael reminded her.

  ''Yeah. What about that? And the Coroner's pictures.'' Louise snapped her fingers triumphantly.

  ''Yes. Look, Gerry.'' Kathleen shuffled through her own papers and held one out to him. ''See here? The police report says that there was blood on the collar of the deceased's shirt. On the collar!'' Gerry raised a brow, unmoved. ''Gerry! Remember the Coroner's photo? There were no track marks, which meant Lionel wasn't an addict, but there was that jagged mark at his neck. He was injected in the neck. Sarah checked the clothes that he wore. There was a smudge of blood on the collar right where the neck wound was.''

  ''Ah, yes, that reminds me. Marlene sent me a copy of the Coroner's report on Lionel with a note. Kind of her. She spoke to our good friend Doctor Greischmidt. Unfortunately, he can't remember where the lethal injection was introduced. This doesn't surprise me. The man can't remember what he did with an entire stomach, why should a syringe prick be any different,'' Gerry said.

  ''See, that must be the injection point. I checked with the free clinic over on Pico. Heroine injected there is for seasoned junkies looking for a final high. For someone whose clean it's certain death,'' Kathleen crowed.

  ''The only thing I will grant you is that it seems Mr. Booker,'' He nodded to Sarah in deference to his memory, ''was not an experienced drug user. I would even grant you that he never, ever used drugs before that fateful day. Sarah, did Lionel ever mention that he had an enlarged heart?'' Again she shook her head. ''There, that is no help. If he was aware of a medical problem then he probably wouldn't have attempted to inject himself with heroine, a drug that immediately affects the heart. But, more interesting still, there is no damage to the veins in Lionel's arms. There wasn't one collapsed from overuse, no tracks, nothing to indicate that this man used heroine before that day. His nasal passages were clear. There was no breakdown in tissue to indicate he was snorting. His lungs were clear. His stomach contents indicated grains and vegetables had been ingested. In short, Lionel seemed to be what everyone you've spoken to says he was - a man who believed his body was, indeed, a temple.''

  ''There, see?'' Kathleen was delighted he saw it their way.

  ''I knew he'd understand,'' Louise put her arm around Sarah who still looked bewildered by her attention.

  Only Michael was quiet. He watched the old man who watched him right back.

  ''The problem is, it's not enough, is it?'' He asked Gerry.

  ''No, Michael, it's nothing. There's nothing you've told me that would convince me to go to the authorities. They would laugh in our face if we ask them to reopen the case on Lionel. No threats of violence against him. No enemies. You don't even have a handle on the work difficulty. I'm afraid you all have been overwhelmed by what happened last night.''

  ''There is something wrong, Gerry,'' Michael reminded him. ''I haven't had a chance to go over those invoices, but I can see why Lionel didn't like the looks of at least two of them. They seemed inflated in certain areas. It will take a while for me to give you something definitive, though.''

  ''Michael it won't matter even if you do. What can you really tell the police if you do go to them? Can Sarah identify the men who were in her home?'' Gerry pinned her with his gaze. She hung her head. ''No, I thought not. Can either of the Mrs. Bookers provide us any insight into Lionel's dealings at work?'' Louise checked out her nails. ''No. He didn't confide in them. He kept his professional and private life separate. And Michael, you haven't any evidence to bring to the table. No threatening notes, no people popping in unexpectedly to whisper in Lionel's ear while he worked. As far as you knew, and this is from the testimony you gave Kathleen, Lionel was a good worker, steady and hardly eccentric. The only person who said something was bothering Lionel was Harold. You checked that out and Mr., Mr. . . .'' Gerry snapped his fingers. ''Forgive me, I've forgotten his name.''

  At that moment the door opened and Becky came in. She motioned to Kathleen whispering 'telephone' as she did so. Kathleen slipped out to take it another office. The last thing she wanted to do was interrupt the proceedings. Going behind Michael, unable to resist, she let her fingers trail across his shoulders just as he answered Gerry.

  ''Jules Porter?''

  ''Yes, Mr. Porter, the man who grew up with Lionel so to speak. They'd had many years together and, while he may not have been po
lite, the man answered your questions, did he not, Michael? Did he appear to be stunned or nervous about your questions? Did he attempt to hide anything? Have you thrown out of his office?''

  ''No, he didn't.''

  Michael turned his head away, bringing his fist to his chin. They sat in silence, the two men and two women. Emotions toured the room, lighting on all their heads more than once. Frustration, the feeling that the answers, or an enemy, was just around the corner, sadness, anxiety, the need for a challenge, the desire to know the truth about Lionel were all born in thoughtful silence.

  ''We can settle this entire matter quickly in two ways,'' Gerry finally said.

  They all looked at him as Kathleen slipped quietly back into the room, her phone call completed. She stood apart, lingering by the door, her hand on the knob as if she was anxious to be off somewhere else instead of in this room with the people who had come to mean so many things to her. Her eyes remained fixed on Gerry, her expression was one of profound sadness and even more intense determination. No one noticed. Their attention was on the old man.

  ''If Lionel was murdered, then he was murdered. We will keep that belief to ourselves, and we will take what we know about his state of mind, and physical condition, to the court. Kathleen will lay it at Judge Kelley's feet. I believe that we will prevail and Louise will be granted her benefits by All Life. Of course, I would also suggest that we withdraw our suit against the estate.''

  Louise nodded. ''That's okay with me.'' Her whiter than white nails with Michael Jackson painted on them never once headed for her hair. Sarah smiled at her sweetly.

  ''We can also call Bob Morton and suggest that we meet and attempt to settle this matter before we get to court. Since he can expect full disclosure anyway, we might as well do it sooner than later, wrap this up and we'll get on with other business.''

  ''Then there's another long and arduous road that will, more than likely, lead nowhere.'' Gerry paused. He looked at them each in turn.

  ''We can continue with what we're doing.'' Michael picked up the ball. ''Perhaps someone owes it to Lionel to find out the truth about his death.''

  ''And who will take on that job, Michael?'' Gerry became devil's advocate. ''The police won't want anything to do with this. This is Los Angeles. The authorities are so overwhelmed they often can't pursue investigations on those who are gunned down in cold blood on our streets with twenty eye-witnesses. They aren't waiting for a mysterious challenge. And who will take it upon themselves to exhume Lionel's body, assign and pay investigators, criminalists and goodness knows who else? You? Do you intend to quit your job for Lionel? Kathleen? Me? Is that what the practice of law is about or would we be overstepping our bounds? Sarah? Dear Sarah who wants to tend her garden? Louise? Would you like the job? Would you like for us to secure your insurance settlement only to see it frittered away on an investigation that may not have a conclusion? Which of us will do that? Which of us will take on Lionel's cause if, indeed, there ever was foul play?''

  Sarah lifted her head and pushed her hair out of her face. Purple and white, she looked like some odd Harlequin. But no one was laughing. They could hardly look at her for each of them knew their answer was no, they would not take on such a responsibility.

  ''How about all of us?'' Sarah asked, her voice very small, her question very profound.

  She looked about and there was no expectation in her expression. She and Lionel had lived a reclusive life, there was no need for anyone to share it when it was good and she didn't really figure anyone would want to share her sorrow or her fear. But she asked the question anyway.

  ''I'd go for that.'' Louise was the first one to offer her help.

  ''I'd figure out the Tysco stuff,'' Michael said.

  ''I could help with the legal work needed for the exhumation and investigators,'' Gerry said. ''Kathleen will speak with All Life. We'll try to wrap that up as soon as possible. After that, we'll look into the matter of the strange death of Lionel Booker. Is that it, then?''

  Yes, they all agreed, and then Gerry O'Doul smiled at his niece waiting for her sweet voice to be added to the chorus.

  ''No,'' she said solemnly. ''That isn't it.''

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They sat facing each other; neither moving though there wasn't any more that could be said. But Gerry wasn't quite ready to let go. He wasn't quite ready to end the afternoon, at least not on this note.

  ''Sure, Kathleen, aren't I excited to death for you. Really. Richard Jacobsen is quite the man. To be offered a position at Shay, Sylvester & Harrington is a coup indeed, considering he has only run into you once or twice.''

  ''Three times. I've seen him three times.''

  ''Ah, yes, once he came to watch you in court. When you were arguing for Henrietta, I believe.'' Kathleen nodded. ''Then 'tis really something that he offered you a position. On an environmental case no less. One that's even made the news as I recall.''

  Kathleen made some noises of agreement. She crossed her legs focusing on a scuff mark on the side of her beige sling backs. She hated scuff marks. She hated doing this to Gerry O'Doul. Didn't she?

  ''It should be very exciting for you. Yes, yes, indeed,'' he mused. ''After only three meetings. And not a formal interview between you. Fancy that.''

  ''Uncle Gerry, I know this can't make you happy,'' Kathleen began squirming. Her guilt and his graciousness were making her angry.

  ''But, of course it makes me happy. Sure, I couldn't possibly offer you the career advantages you'll have with Richard. It's only that I want you to be very sure, very careful, of the decision you're making.''

  Kathleen unclasped her hands where they lay in her lap and put them on the arms of her chair. It had been too much to hope that this could be taken care of with a simple look of surprise, a hug of encouragement and a send off with a smile.

  ''I can't explain this, Gerry. I realize it's unusual. Maybe my stars are in the right place, or the moon is full, or I was meant to be working for you so that I could meet Mr. Jacobsen. Whichever it is, I appreciate the opportunity you've given me, but I can't turn my back on the one he's offering me. I can't. It's the dream of every lawyer to work for a firm like Shay, Sylvester & Harrington. For someone like me, it's closer to a miracle.''

  Gerry let his hand waggle a bit, ''Now, now, don't sell yourself short.''

  Why not, she wanted to ask, everyone else in her life had.

  ''I won't,'' she said quietly. Her fingers went to her silvery bangs. ''But I've got to see if I can do this.''

  ''Oh, Kathleen, I don't think there's any doubt that you should. None at all.'' Gerry's faded blue eyes didn't twinkle anymore. He was serious. Relieved, Kathleen allowed herself a smile.

  ''Thank you. I appreciate the blessing. I really do. And we'll see each other often. I'll need your advice, I'm sure.''

  She was out of the chair, her fingertips still in contact with nubby brown upholstery when Gerry revved his engines and came at her full force.

  ''Of course, I'll be here when you need me, and naturally I wouldn't want anything to keep you from what you need to do, but, Kathleen,'' he held up a finger. She knew that tone of voice. It was too kind, too selfless. She stiffened. ''Do you think you might possibly ask Richard to postpone your employment just a wee bit? Given what you've been through with Louise, given Sarah's precarious position and Michael - of course Michael - you may want to stay with us awhile. You know, with your friends. For Lionel. Not that I'm asking for myself you understand. . .''

  With that Kathleen began to shake. It was just a little shivering inside, a small twitch in her hands. She clamped her lips shut and looked to the left of Gerry and then took an interest in the door. She wished she had a magazine to flip open, an article to read on anger or making your eyes look bigger with the right shadow. She wished she had a place to hide where she could nod and agree and make life smooth. But there was no magazine and this was not her mother. She had to hold that thought. If she didn't, she would continue to paint on a face ins
tead of turn a real one to the world.

  ''It is for you, Uncle Gerry.'' She said quietly and he responded with his own dead silence. ''It's for you, not Michael or anyone else. You want me here because you're lonely. But I've been there, done that. My mother wasn't really sick for years. She was lonely and she was scared. I knew that somewhere inside me, but I stayed anyway because I was lonely and scared, too. We were each other's excuses. I did it because I figured I wasn't worth much to anyone except her and it was you who made me feel that way. When you left you took all the hope and stardust with you. No one talked about you. You didn't call. There was just this big, awful silence like it was my fault you were gone. So I made up for making you go away by staying. And now I'm not going to say it again. Mr. Jacobsen says he needs me immediately. It's a big case and they've lost a key player. I'm not going to stay because someone asks. Not again.''

  Kathleen stuck her hands into her pockets. She'd said too much, but she couldn't stop the rest that was coming. She didn't look at Gerry for fear the hurt on his face would make her stay no matter what. At the very least it would make her shut up, and she didn't want to do that ever again in her whole life.

  ''You wouldn't stay even for me and I thought - ''her voice shook, ''- I thought you cared.'' There was a rent in time where everything stood still. All clocks, all motion, as if the world was waiting for the real truth. ''I thought you loved me. You didn't care enough to stay in my life, so why would I stay for you?''

  ''Kathleen, I did love you. More than you'll ever know.''

  ''So much that you walked out?'' She tilted her head back to let the tears trickle back the way they came. ''At least I'm giving you the courtesy of a little notice. I'm giving you a reason. You didn't give me either.''