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"Monsieur Polk. Do you wish to question this witness?"

"I do, Your Honor. If I may have one moment," he added while Beau completed his notes. Monsieur Polk perused them and then stood up.

"Monsieur Bristow, why didn't you contest the actions taken against you to remove you from Dumas Enterprises?"

"I've already said. . . there was an unfortunate pre-nuptial agreement and I was blackmailed by my step-daughter Gisselle."

"Are you sure your reluctance to take counteraction had nothing to do with the financial activities you and Daphne Dumas conducted?"

"You are willing to have those dealings scrutinized by this court?"

Bruce squirmed a bit. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Aren't you here to get revenge for being pushed out of the business?"

"No. I'm here to tell the truth," Bruce said firmly.

"Did you not recently lose a commercial property in New Orleans through foreclosure?"

"Yes."

"You've lost quite a comfortable income and lifestyle, haven't you?"

"I have a good job now," Bruce insisted.

"Not paying you a quarter of what you made before you were asked to leave Dumas Enterprises, correct?"

"Money isn't everything," Bruce quipped.

"Have you gotten over your problem with alcohol?" Monsieur Polk pursued.

"Objection; Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said, rising. "Monsieur Bristow's personal problems have nothing to do with this testimony."

"They have everything to do with it if he hopes to gain financially and he is an alcoholic who needs money for his disease," Monsieur Polk said.

"Are you accusing my clients of bribing this man?" Monsieur Williams cried, pointing at Bruce.

"That will be enough," the judge said. "Objection sustained. Monsieur Polk, have you any more questions pertaining to the issue?"

Monsieur Polk thought a moment and then shook his head. "No, Your Honor."

"Fine. Thank you, Monsieur Bristow. You may step down. Monsieur Williams?"

"I would like to call Madame Tate to the stand, Your Honor."

Gladys Tate rose slowly as if she were battling against an enormous weight on her shoulders. She dabbed at her eyes with a beige silk handkerchief and then sighed loudly before stepping around the table to walk toward the stand. I looked at Octavious. He'd had his head down most of the time and had it down now, too.

After she was sworn in, Gladys settled into the witness chair like someone easing herself into a hot bath. She closed her eyes and pressed her right hand against her heart. Monsieur Williams stood waiting for her to become calm enough to speak. When I gazed at the people in the audience, I saw how most felt sorry for her. Their eyes were filled with compassion and sympathy.

"You are Gladys Tate, mother of the recently deceased Paul Marcus Tate?" Monsieur Williams asked. She closed her eyes again. "I'm sorry, Madame Tate. I know how fresh your sorrow is, but I have to ask."

"Yes," she said. "I am Paul Tate's mother." She didn't look at me.

"Were you very close with your son, madame?"

"Very," she said. "Before Paul was married, I don't think a day passed when we didn't see or speak to each other. We had more than a mother-son relationship. We were good friends," she added.

"And so your son confided in you?"