Swinburne blinked. “God?”

“Sure. I guess you’re probably unfamiliar, but he’s the head deity who created the universe and-”

“I know who God is, Ms. Morrell,” Swinburne said, confirming what Ben had long suspected: he had no sense of humor whatsoever. “What was the president saying about God to the inanimate portraits on the wall?”

“He was asking JFK if he believed in God.”

Swinburne nodded several times. “And did he?”

“Objection,” Ben said, without great hope. Mostly he just wanted to break up Swinburne’s maniacal flow. “How are JFK’s religious beliefs relevant to the matter at hand?”

“The point of the testimony,” Swinburne said with a sneer, “is to demonstrate the depth of the president’s delusional mental state.”

Cartwright nodded. “I’m afraid I’ll have to allow it.”

“So,” Swinburne said to Sarie, “did JFK believe in God?”

“JFK didn’t answer,” she said, smiling. “At least not so as I could hear him.”

“What did the president have to say on the subject?”

“He said he wondered about JFK’s immortal soul. He said that JFK mentioned God from time to time but that he doesn’t seem to have been very religious. He mentioned that JFK didn’t seem to observe at least one of the Ten Commandments.”

“I see.”

“He wondered if JFK had placed his faith in God when his PT boat was sunk. Then he asked FDR if he lost his faith when he contracted polio. And he asked about FDR’s lack of attention to the same commandment.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, I didn’t just stand there eavesdropping. I went to finishing school, you know. I have manners.”

“Of course. What did you do next?”

“I cleared my throat and made a lot of noise. I didn’t want to startle or embarrass him. Then I approached and laid my hand on his shoulder and told him the kiddies were waiting.”

“What did he say?”

“He… didn’t answer at first.”

“And then?”

Sarie looked like a caged cougar. Ben wondered how many other people knew this story-and who might have been able to call her on it if she hadn’t come forward with the details. “Then I noticed that he was crying. Big-time tears. All over his face.”

“Crying. I see. Did he say anything?”

“Yeah. He grabbed my hand and asked me if I would pray with him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard what I said, you big bowl of grits. He wanted me to pray with him.”

“And what was your response?”

“Well, I’m aware there is some precedent for this sort of thing in the White House. I didn’t see as it would hurt anything. And we were celebrating a religious holiday. In a pagan sort of way.”

“So you prayed with him.”

“Sure. Why not? Nothing I didn’t do every week back at the Southern Baptist church in Birmingham. He did all the talking.”

“What did he say?”

“He prayed for guidance. He prayed for insight. And he prayed for, um, his immortal soul.”

“His immortal soul? Did he actually use those words?”

“He did.”

“Was there something he was concerned about? Felt guilty about?”

“If there was, he didn’t share.”

“Did he pray for anything else?”

“Yes. He also, um-” She cleared her throat. “He prayed for God to forgive JFK and FDR for their marital indiscretions and to take their souls up to heaven.”

“I see,” Swinburne said, steepling his hands. “How thoughtful of him.”

“Yeah. I thought so.”

“How did he look when all this took place?”

“I don’t know what you mean. He looked like himself.”

“Eyes, complexion, posture…?”

“His eyes were red, but he had been crying. His face seemed red, too. Kinda puffy. He’s so tan, though, sometimes it’s hard to tell about that. He was slouching. He didn’t have his presidential aura. He seemed tired.”

“And what happened after that?”

“Nothing. After we finished with the praying, he cleaned up a bit, then followed me outside and opened the egg roll. Just like nothing had ever happened.”

“No more odd behavior.”

“No. He was completely himself again.”

“But for a time, when he was talking to the pictures and all-he did not seem himself?”

Sarie thought for a moment. She had pretty much opened herself up to this one with her last remark, and she knew it. “I suppose not. Or perhaps it was just a side to him I hadn’t seen before.”

“In fifteen years of working with him.”

“Right.” Her eyes lowered. “Right.”

“Ms. Morrell, since President Kyler took office, how many other such erratic episodes have there been? Instances of the president behaving oddly.”

Ben wanted to object-it was clearly a leading question and assumed facts not in evidence. But since she was a hostile witness-albeit a pretty cooperative one-he knew Swinburne could get away with it.

“I don’t know. Most of the time he has been perfectly normal. Sharp as the best needle in my mama’s sewing kit.”

“But how many times has he been… odd?”

Sarie shrugged. “I dunno. Once or twice, maybe.”

“I’ll assume that means at least twice. Would you tell us about those incidents, please?”

She tossed her head back, swinging her long hair out of her face. “Well, there was that deal in the White House swimming pool. That was kinda…” She looked at the president apologetically.

President Kyler smiled. “Weird?”

She smiled back. “Your word, not mine.”

Swinburne made his trademark grunting noise again. “I will ask the witness to address her comments to me.”

“My pleasure, cutie pie,” Sarie responded.

“What happened at the swimming pool?” Swinburne demanded.

She leaned back. Ben got the impression this story was going to take a while. “It was another one of those disappearing-president deals. He was supposed to be taking a meeting-come to think of it, he was supposed to be meeting you, wasn’t he?”

“Was this the Tuesday before last?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“He was supposed to be meeting with me. He kept me waiting for more than an hour.”

Ben sighed. Now the prosecutor was actually testifying-but it would be pointless to object. They had to get the evidence before the cabinet as expeditiously as possible.

“Right. Well, speaking as the keeper of the president’s schedule-you got off easy. Next time bring a book to read.”

“I’ll try to remember that. So what was he doing in the swimming pool?”

“Strange as it may seem, he was swimming.”

“I’m guessing there was more to it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought this up as an example of odd behavior.”

“Well, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. Till I stepped up to the edge of the pool to talk to him. That’s when I noticed…”

“Yes?”

“He wasn’t wearing any clothes. Forgot the ol’ swimsuit, you know what I mean?”

Ben saw several low-key looks exchanged across the room-and on the closed-circuit screen. The president was staring intently at the floor, making eye contact with no one.

“I mean, it’s not that unusual, is it? I know when I was growing up, the boys used to go to the Y early in the morning and they’d all swim naked. I don’t know what that was all about, but it was why Daddy never took me to the Y on Saturday mornings.”

“But the president apparently didn’t have your daddy’s scruples.”

“I don’t think the president expected me to drop by.”

“Wouldn’t he always expect his chief of staff to come get him when he’s overdue?”

“I think perhaps he had lost track of the time.”

“What was he doing?”

“Laps.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Eventually. Once he noticed me. He, um, asked if I wanted to get in.”

Swinburne arched an eyebrow. “How agreeable of him.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“And did you?”

“No.”

“But why not?”

“I didn’t have my suit.”

“Apparently that’s not a requirement in the presidential pool.”

“It is for me.”

“Did the president seem embarrassed by his nakedness?”