'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
