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  Holmes then delved into the Grant family relationships.

  “Were you happy about the marriage between your father and Betsy Ryan?”

  “Very much so,” Alan answered quietly. “My father was only forty years old when my mother died. For the next two years I knew he was very lonely. When he met Betsy and then married her a year later I was delighted.”

  “Were you present for dinner the night your father was murdered?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Who else was there?”

  “Betsy, of course. It was my father’s birthday and she invited the two other doctors in the orthopedic practice they had started with my father, and their wives. Dr. Kent Adams, his wife, Sarah, and Dr. Scott Clifton and his wife, Lisa, were there.”

  “Describe your father’s behavior that night.”

  “At first it was very calm. He seemed happy to see everyone, even though I don’t think he actually recognized us. He may have had flashes of being vaguely aware of who we were. It’s hard to say.”

  “Did your stepmother comment on his behavior?”

  “Yes, she did. She said that for the last two days he had been very upset and opening drawers and spilling their contents on the floor and throwing books off the library shelves. She said that she was going to call off the dinner, but then that morning he woke up and was very gentle and calm so she went ahead with it.”

  “When you arrived, did you see a bruise on her face?”

  “Yes, I did. She had tried to cover it up with makeup, but it was still discernible.”

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “That my father had punched her two days ago.”

  “Did she seem angry?”

  “No, I thought she seemed resigned.”

  “Did your father’s behavior change during the course of the evening?”

  “Yes it did. At first we had cocktails in the living room. Of course he did not have one. But just before we were to go in for dinner, he suddenly became very agitated.”

  “What did he do?”

  “All of a sudden without saying anything he became very distressed and started pointing at all of us.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Betsy went over to him and put her arms around him and tried to soothe him. He immediately became calm.”

  “What happened next?”

  “We had a very pleasant dinner. He was very quiet and ate quite well. Then just as we were about to have coffee and dessert Dad quickly got up and literally lunged across the table toward where Dr. Clifton and his wife Lisa were seated.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Betsy grabbed Dad’s arm to stop him and he turned and slapped her face. It was a very hard slap. She fell back in her chair and began to sob. Dr. Clifton, Angela, the caregiver, and I took Dad back to his room. He suddenly went limp as though he was exhausted. Angela gave him a pill to calm him down. We got him into his pajamas and put him into bed. After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and his breathing became even. He fell asleep.”

  “At that time what did you do?”

  “I noticed that Angela was very pale and I asked her what was wrong. She told me she must be getting some sort of bug because she was having terrible stomach pains.”

  “What was your response?”

  “I suggested that she go home.”

  As he spoke, it seemed to Delaney that the pain on Alan Grant’s face was too obvious to be faked.

  “What did she do?”

  “She said that if she didn’t feel better soon, she would have to leave.”

  “Mr. Grant, were you familiar with the furnishings in your father’s bedroom?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “On the night table next to his bed was there any display, award or decoration?”

  “Yes. There was a mortar-and-pestle set. It was an award he had been given by Hackensack Hospital. I was at the banquet the night he received it.”

  “When you were in your father’s room that night, do you recall if the pestle was present?”

  “Yes, I do. I am absolutely certain it was present. Dr. Clifton, Angela Watts and I were all talking to Dad, trying to calm him down. I very clearly remember pointing to the award and saying to him something like ‘Dad, it was so much fun that night when we went to the awards dinner. You gave such a great speech.’ Who knows if he understood a word I was saying. But the whole time I was talking I was looking back and forth between him and the award.”

  “And the pestle was present in the mortar bowl?”

  “Yes, definitely.”

  “Going back, after you suggested that Ms. Watts go home, what did you do next?”

  “I went back to the dining room. Dr. Adams had put a cold cloth on Betsy’s face. She was still sobbing at the table—holding the cloth.”

  “Did your stepmother say anything to you?”

  “She said ‘I can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry, I just can’t take it anymore.’ ”

  “And what was your reaction to that statement?”

  “I was sorry for Betsy. My father had just struck her. She was overwrought.”

  “Did you in any way consider her statement ‘I can’t do it anymore’ as a threat to your father?”

  “At the time I did not. Not at all. Later on I began to wonder if it had been a threat.”

  “When did you learn that your father had died?”

  “The next morning.”

  “Who told you of his passing?”

  “Betsy phoned me.”

  “How would you describe her emotional state based on how she sounded on the phone?”

  “Very matter-of-fact.”

  “Do you remember her exact words?”

  “Yes, I do. She said, ‘Alan, Dad passed away last night. I’m sure you will believe as I do that it was a blessing.’ ”

  “How did you respond?”

  “Of course, my first reaction was great sadness. But then I said something like ‘The father I knew has not existed for the last several years at least. You know how I feel, Betsy. I am glad that his suffering is over.’ ”

  “At that time did you suspect there might have been foul play?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What was your reaction when you learned that his body had been sent to the medical examiner’s office?”

  “I was incredulous. I thought there must be a mistake.”

  ‘When you learned that he had been the victim of a fatal blow to the back of his head, what was your reaction?”

  Alan Grant looked directly into the eyes of the prosecutor. “My immediate thought was that Betsy must have delivered that blow.”

  Robert Maynard jumped up yelling. “Objection, Your Honor, highly improper and prejudicial.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Roth immediately responded. “The answer is stricken. The jury will disregard it.”

  “I’ll rephrase. Describe your father’s behavior during his last six months.”

  “His behavior had been increasingly difficult during that time. The night before he died Betsy’s words ‘I can’t take it anymore’ seemed to me to be an expression of despair.”

  “How would you characterize your relationship with Betsy Grant since your father’s death?”

  “For the first twenty-four hours, very close. We were consoling each other and making plans for the funeral.”

  “At what point did that friendly relationship with Betsy Grant cease?”

  “When I learned that my father’s skull had been crushed by a blow and that the pestle was missing from the set by the side of the bed.”

  “When did you learn that your stepmother had been seeing another man?”

  “I only learned that after my father’s death.”

  “What was your reaction?”

  “Shock. Outrage. Disappointment.”

  “In the months leading up to your father’s death, what was Betsy Gr
ant’s demeanor toward him?”

  “Very loving. Very compassionate. It had been suggested by his doctor that she should consider putting him in a residential facility.”

  “Why did the doctor suggest that?”

  “He felt that my father was in danger of having a serious accident.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Dad would wander upstairs to the top floor and lean over the railing. He would pull things out of the drawers in the bedroom.”

  “What was Betsy Grant’s reaction to the doctor’s suggestion?”

  “She fenced off the entrance to the second floor and moved downstairs to sleep in the bedroom that had been used as a maid’s quarters by the previous owner. In other words, she tried to keep him under her control.”

  “Objection,” Maynard shouted.

  “Your Honor, I would like to ask Mr. Grant what he means by ‘keep him under control,’ ” Holmes responded.

  “I will allow him to explain,” the judge said quietly.

  “Sir, would you please explain your answer.”

  “Of course. What I meant was that she was trying to protect him from being injured.”

  “Was it Mrs. Grant’s decision to keep your father at home even after receiving the advice from the doctor?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Did she give any reasons for that decision?”

  “She said that my father needed her. She said that there were times when he was lucid. At those times he begged her to stay with him. She also told me that someone with my father’s diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s disease usually would not be expected to live much longer than the seven years he had already endured.”

  “But then, the night your father was administered the fatal blow that took his life, didn’t Betsy Grant wail, ‘I can’t take it anymore’?”

  “Objection. Leading question.” This time one of Maynard’s associates spoke up.

  “Sustained,” the judge said once again.

  Elliot Holmes turned to look at the jurors. Delaney could see that he had made the point he wanted to make. “No further questions, Your Honor,” he said quietly.

  • • •

  “Mr. Maynard,” Judge Roth said, “you may begin your cross-examination.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Maynard replied. “Mr. Grant, how old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-five.”

  “When you finished college, did you go to any type of graduate school or did you go straight to work?”

  “Straight to work.”

  “So that means you’ve been working for thirteen years?”

  “Yes.”

  “What type of work do you do?”

  “I’ve always been a freelance photographer.”

  “By freelance you mean you are not on salary? You’re only paid when you get work. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is the average annual amount of money you have earned over the years?”

  “Typically between fifty and eighty thousand dollars.”

  “And is it true that from the very beginning of your career, you were getting financial help from your father?”

  “Yes. He loved me. I was his only son and he wanted to help me.”

  “So how would he help you? Would he give you money every time you asked or was there some other arrangement?”

  “When I got out of college and in the few years after that, I often needed to buy new camera equipment, lenses, filters, etc., to help me get work. Usually when I asked for help my father would say yes.”

  “Did that arrangement change?”

  “Three or four years after he married Betsy, she persuaded him to help me once a year. At Christmas my father would give me a check for one hundred thousand dollars.”

  “And you have received this one-hundred-thousand-dollar Christmas check every year up to and including this past Christmas?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Okay, so one hundred thousand at Christmas and in an average year you earned sixty-five thousand, which means you typically have had one hundred sixty-five thousand dollars per year to address all of your expenses. Is that about right?”

  “Yes.”

  Delaney scribbled notes as over the next few minutes Maynard delved deeply into Alan Grant’s financial life. She found herself wishing she had paid closer attention in the one accounting course she had taken in college. If Maynard was trying to establish that Grant’s personal finances were a mess, he certainly succeeded.

  In response to Maynard’s questions Grant admitted that he had an expensive divorce and alimony commitment with the mother of his two children, and child support payments for his other child. His father had bought him a condominium when he graduated college, but he had taken out a home equity loan. The payments on that loan were due monthly, as were his maintenance on the condo, health insurance payments, and car and garage payments. His rather high routine living expenses included three vacations per year. Grant reluctantly agreed that his expenses of nearly eighteen thousand per month substantially exceeded the one hundred sixty-five thousand dollars available to him each year.

  Maynard continued.

  “Did your father ever talk to you about changing careers?”

  “He told me that the photography did not pay enough and the work was too sporadic. He wanted me to find another career that would insure a stable income.”

  “Did you follow his advice and seek another career?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s go back to your financial deficits that we identified. To make ends meet, have you taken out any other loans?”

  “In addition to the money I borrowed against my condo, friends have also given me loans.”

  “Are you paying interest on these loans?”

  “I pay interest to the bank for the condo loan. Most of my friends agreed that I could pay the interest and principal on their loans when I got my inheritance.”

  “You testified earlier that you received the annual gift last Christmas even after your father’s death. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. I spoke to the estate lawyer, who requested of the chancery court that this disbursement be approved.”

  “And Betsy Grant did not object to this disbursement. Did she?”

  “I did not speak to her. The estate lawyer did. He informed me that she did not object.”

  “Three months ago did you make an additional application to the chancery court for another disbursement?”

  “Yes, I did. Because the estate is frozen pending the outcome of this trial, I cannot receive my inheritance. I was advised that I could make an application for a partial disbursement because of my expenses.”

  “And how much did the court approve?”

  “One hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Mr. Grant, you stand to inherit one half of a fifteen-million-dollar estate if Betsy is not convicted, and you will inherit the full fifteen-million-dollar estate if she is. Is that correct?”

  “That is my understanding, sir.”

  “Mr. Grant, let me take you back eighteen months to when your father was alive. Is it fair to say that you were in desperate financial straits but also the heir to a multimillion-dollar estate that would be distributed when your father died?”

  “Yes, but I loved my father and I had nothing to do with his death.”

  Delaney watched Alan Grant squirm in his chair as he answered the questions. He was clearly uncomfortable.

  “Mr. Grant, after the birthday dinner for your father, where did you go?”

  “I went back to New York City. I had plans to meet someone at a bar close to my home.”

  “What time did you get there?”

  “About 10 P.M.”

  “How long did you stay there?”

  “A couple of hours. I left around midnight.”

  “You met a former girlfriend there. Is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “What is her name?�
�

  “Josie Mason.”

  “Did you leave together?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “We went to her apartment a couple of blocks away.”

  “Did you stay that night at her apartment?”

  “Yes I did.” Alan’s face turned red and angry. “I know where you are going, Mr. Maynard. My whereabouts are totally accounted for from the time I left my father’s home until the next morning when I received the call from Betsy that my father had passed away. The bar has a surveillance camera and so does her apartment building. The prosecutor checked out all of that.”

  “Of course he did,” Maynard said sarcastically. “Tell me, Mr. Grant, did you know the code to the alarm system in your father’s home?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Is there any reason why you didn’t know it?”

  “It just never came up.”

  “Did you ever have a key to your father’s home?”

  “No, I did not. Again, it just never came up.”

  “So in the event of an emergency at the home, you didn’t have a key and you didn’t know the alarm code.”

  “Like I’ve told you already, it just never came up. There were always other people there, the housekeeper, the caregiver. There was no specific need for me to have a key or know the code.”

  “You saw your father fairly frequently, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, at least every couple weeks including when he was sick.”

  “Your father even in the last couple of years did have lucid moments. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I treasured them.”

  “Did you ever ask him in these lucid moments what the alarm code was?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “The evidence will show that one of the several house keys has not been accounted for. It was your father’s key.”

  “I know absolutely nothing about that key.”

  “Your Honor,” Maynard said with a tone of sarcasm, “I have no further questions of this witness.”

  “Okay,” the judge replied. “We’ll take the lunch recess.”

  15

  Delaney had been quietly taking notes throughout the morning. It was always her habit to eat in the courthouse cafeteria, where many of the spectators gathered, and try to overhear their opinions on the testimony they had heard. Neither Betsy Grant and her attorneys nor the prosecutor and his assistants were in the room.