Finally, they seemed to be approaching familiar territory. There was a general relaxing on the Phelan side of the table. The lawyers began to scribble notes.
Snead crossed his legs under the table and frowned intelligently at the camera. "Because I was with Mr. Phelan before he died, and I knew the poor man was out of his mind."
"How long had he been out of his mind?"
"All day."
"When he woke up, he was crazy?"
"When I fed him breakfast, he did not know my name."
"What did he call you?"
"Nothing, he just grunted at me."
Nate leaned on his elbows and ignored the paperwork around him. This was a jousting match, and he actually enjoyed it. He knew where he was going, but poor Snead did not.
"Did you see him jump?"
"Yes."
"And fall?"
"Yes."
"And hit the ground?"
"Yes."
"Were you standing near him when he was examined by the three psychiatrists?"
"Yes."
"And this was about two-thirty in the afternoon, right?"
"Yes, as I recall."
"And he'd been crazy all day, right?"
"I'm afraid so, yes."
"How long did you work for Mr. Phelan?"
"Thirty years."
"And you knew everything about him, right?"
"As much as one person can know about another."
"So you knew his lawyer, Mr. Stafford?"
"Yes, I'd met him many times."
"Did Mr. Phelan trust Mr. Stafford?"
"I suppose."
"I thought you knew everything."
"I'm sure he trusted Mr. Stafford."
"Was Mr. Stafford sitting by his side during the mental examination?"
"He was."
"What was Mr. Phelan's mental state during the exam, in your opinion?"
"He was unsound, uncertain of where he was and what he was doing."
"You're sure about this?"
"I am."
"Who did you tell?"
"It wasn't my job to tell."
"Why not?"
"I would've been fired. Part of my job was to keep my mouth shut. It's called discretion."
"You knew Mr. Phelan was going to sign a will dividing his vast fortune. At the same time he was of unsound mind, yet you didn't tell his lawyer, a man he trusted?"
"It wasn't my job."
"Mr. Phelan would've fired you?"
"Immediately."
"Then what about after he jumped? Who did you tell then?"
"No one."
"Why not?"
Snead took a breath and recrossed his legs. He was rallying nicely, he thought. "It was a matter of privacy," he said gravely. "I considered my relationship with Mr. Phelan to be confidential."
"Until now. Until they offered you half a million bucks, right?"
Snead could think of no quick reply, and Nate didn't offer much of a chance. "You're selling not only your testimony but also your confidential relationship with Mr. Phelan, right, Mr. Snead?"
"I'm trying to undo an injustice."
"How noble. Would you be undoing it if they weren't paying you?"
Snead managed to utter a shaky "Yes," and Nate erupted in laughter. He laughed loud and long and did so while looking at the solemn and partially hidden faces of the Phelan lawyers. He laughed directly at Snead. He stood and walked along his end of the table, chuckling to himself. "What a trial," he said, then sat down again.
He glanced at some notes, then continued, "Mr. Phelan died on December the ninth. His will was read on December the twenty-seventh. During the interval, did you tell anyone that he was of unsound mind when he signed his will?"
"No."
"Of course not. You waited until after the will was read, then, realizing you had been cut out, decided to go to the lawyers and strike a deal, didn't you, Air. Snead?"
The witness answered, "No," but Nate ignored him.
"Was Mr. Phelan mentally ill?"
"I'm not an expert in that field."
"You said he was out of his mind. Was this a permanent condition?"
"It came and went."
"How long had it been coming and going?"
"For years."
"How many years?"
"Ten maybe. It's just a guess."
"In the last fourteen years of his life, Mr. Phelan executed eleven wills, one of which left you a million dollars. Did you ever think of telling anyone then that he was of unsound mind?"
"It wasn't my job to tell."
"Did he ever see a psychiatrist?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Did he ever see any mental health professional?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Did you ever suggest to him that he seek professional help?"
"It wasn't my job to suggest such things."
"If you'd found him lying on the floor having a seizure would you have suggested to someone that perhaps he needed help?"
"Of course I would have."
"If you'd found him coughing blood, would you have told someone?"
"Yes."
Nate had a memo two inches thick with summaries of Mr. Phelan's holdings. He flipped to a page at random and asked Snead if he knew anything about Xion Drilling. Snead struggled mightily to remember, but his mind had been so overloaded with new data that it failed him. Delstar Communications? Again, Snead grimaced but could not make the connection.
The fifth company Nate mentioned rang a bell. Snead proudly informed the lawyer that he knew the company.
Mr. Phelan had owned it for quite some time. Nate had questions about sales, products, holdings, earnings, an endless list of financial statistics. Snead answered nothing right.
"How much did you know about Mr. Phelan's holdings?" Nate asked repeatedly. Then he asked questions about the structure of The Phelan Group. Snead had memorized the basics, but the smaller details escaped him. He could name no midlevel manager. He did not know the name of the company's accountants.
Nate hammered him relentlessly about the things he didn't know. Late in the afternoon, with Snead weary and punch-drunk, Nate, in the midst of the millionth question about financials, asked, with no warning, "Did you sign a contract with the lawyers when you took the half a million?"
A simple "No" would have sufficed, but Snead was caught off guard. He hesitated, looked at Hark then looked at Nate, who was again shuffling through papers as if he had a copy of the contract. Snead hadn't lied in two hours, and wasn't quick "Uh, of course not," he stuttered, and convinced no one.
Nate saw the untruth, and let it go. There were other ways to obtain a copy of the contract.
THE PHELAN LAWYERS met in a dark bar to lick their wounds. Snead's dismal performance seemed even worse after two rounds of stiff drinks. He could be propped up some for trial, but the fact that he'd been paid so much would forever taint his testimony.
How did O'Riley know? He was so certain Snead had been paid.
"It was Grit," Hark said. Grit, they all repeated to themselves. Surely Grit hadn't gone to the other side.
"That's what you get for stealing his client," Wally Bright said after a long silence.
"Shut up," Ms. Langhorne said.
Hark was too tired to fight. He finished his drink and ordered another. In the flood of testimony, the other Phelan lawyers had forgotten about Rachel. There was still no official record of her in the court file.