“Did you?” Lisa asked, with a smile.
“I guess you might call it that. I found out long ago if you're interested in a man you have to make the first move. Even those who come on real strong don't really know what they want. And the shy ones need to be pushed.”
“How do you make the first move?”
“I find out what they're interested in, and I get them talking about it. The best approach by far is to make them go to work for you?”
“Go to work for you?”
“Sure. You know. I had a crush on a doctor down at the clinic. So I made it a point to get lots of headaches and colds and such. He turned out to be a bummer, though. Then there was Pete. He was an auto mechanic. Darned if my car didn't break down right in front of his garage.”
Lisa laughed. “So I imagine you had electrical problems at home recently. Am I right?”
Corky joined in the laugh. “How did you ever guess?”
Later, when Hank caught Corky just outside the courtroom, she had difficulty answering his question.
“What did Judge Raines want?”
“I don't know. But she said she really enjoyed the lunch. Come to think of it, I did most of the talking.”
“That's not unusual. What did you talk about?”
“We talked about men, naturally,” Corky said with a grin, “What else is there to talk about?”
Hank shook his head in disbelief. “Doesn't make sense. Far as I can tell, Judge Raines prefers orchids to men.”
***
I wasn't exactly excited about going back into the courtroom that first afternoon, but I was feeling much better than I had in the morning. Hearing Qual, Sid and Kay agree we'd come out on the plus side in the first session made me feel a lot better. Sid warned me the afternoon session would be a downer. But even that didn't bother me too much. I figured my attorneys would be right in there pitching.
The lieutenant seemed kind of nervous. Sid had told me Hank DeMello didn't like to testify. It always makes him nervous. I couldn't help but wonder how nervous he'd have been if he were up there testifying at his own trial—for murder. He did all right, though. I couldn't fault him for any of the answers he gave to Ikeda's question except maybe to the first one about the murder. When Ikeda asked him why he had interviewed so few suspects, the lieutenant said it was because he figured he had the killer already—namely me.
Sid took some of the sting out of that answer when his turn came to question the lieutenant.
Ikeda went on to ask pretty much the same questions he'd asked the patrolmen and Sergeant Medeiros, and he got pretty much the same answers. And when he pushed to get some opinions, the lieutenant wouldn't budge. He stayed with the facts, but that was bad enough. I've got to admit if I'd been sitting on the jury, I would have had a tough time believing Ron Crockett was innocent. Just hearing the lieutenant laying out the facts made me feel like dirt was being thrown on my coffin.
“And it is your conviction the murder weapon was the golf club found on the desk at the scene of the killing?”
“Yes.”
“On what do you base your conclusion?”
“The club had dried blood on it and pieces of hair matched the victim's hair. The club shaft was bent as though it had received a sharp blow. And the head of the club matched the fractured area in the patient's head.”
“Are there any other reasons for your conclusion?”
“The pathologist agreed with that conclusion.”
I could see Kay was itching to object. She told me afterwards she caught the judge looking at her when the lieutenant made that remark. It was clearly hearsay, and most attorneys would have been jumping up immediately. Afterwards, she said it made her worry about her strategy.
And anything worrying Kay, worries me—and it worries me a heck of a lot more than it does her.
***
Am I doing the right thing, Kay thought. Lisa's wondering if I've gone bonkers for not asking to have that remark stricken. On the other hand it really doesn't mean a damn thing. I'll save my objections for when it matters.
“Were there any fingerprints on the club?”
“Yes.”
“Whose fingerprints were they?”
The little weasel can ask simple and direct questions when he isn't under pressure, thought Kay.
“The defendant's”
“Were there any other prints on the club?”
“No.”
Ikeda looked triumphantly at the jury. Sid thought, “Gloat, now, Ikeda. That answer's going to come back to haunt you. “
Ikeda seemed thoroughly satisfied with himself when he finally turned Hank over to Sid.
Sid started with the arrest of Ron Crockett, and found Hank quite ready to confirm the essential elements in Corky's version. Ron had shown no resistance. He'd been upset, and he'd protested his innocence.
Sid was pleased to see Hank's nervousness had disappeared. There were some rough spots ahead for the lieutenant, and Sid wanted Hank to be at his best when he ran into them. Hank's relaxed mood decided Sid to steer over the roughest of the spots immediately.
“You stated earlier you arrived at the scene of the crime at about two-twenty. How soon afterwards was the body examined by a physician?”
Hank wasn't happy with the question and showed it.
“It was some twenty minutes later.”
“Isn't that rather unusual? Doesn't the examining physician ordinarily arrive at the same time as the officer in charge of the investigation?”
“That's the ideal. I had the station operator call the county pathologist as I was leaving the station, and he told her he was on his way.”
“What happened?”
“Unfortunately, he was involved in a minor traffic accident which delayed his arrival until two-forty.”
“Shouldn't you have summoned another physician?”
“I suppose I should have. But I kept thinking Doctor Victorine would arrive at any moment. I certainly would have done so if I'd felt a physician was necessary. But the victim was clearly dead, and the cause of death was quite obvious and borne out by the later pm—postmortem, that is.”
No need to make him any more uncomfortable with that one, Sid decided. Now it's established, I'll let Kay work Victorine over on that point.
“You said earlier there were no other fingerprints on the golf club other than those of the defendant. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Didn't it surprise you the victim's prints were not on the club?”
“Objection, your honor. Counsel is asking the witness for an opinion.”
Lisa was clearly annoyed. “Attorney Ikeda, are you saying a question directed to the witness's field of expertise is out of order? Who is better suited to answer that question?”
Ikeda begin to redden. “Your honor, I was simply making the representation that learned counsel was going beyond requesting a simple opinion. He was attempting to elicit an emotional response from the witness concerning that opinion. Whether or not the witness was surprised at the absence of other fingerprints is clearly irrelevant.”
Sid cut in before Lisa could reply. “Your honor. In the interest of expediting matters, perhaps I can rephrase the question in such a way as to meet the prosecutor's objection.”
“Please do. In the meantime, I will hold in abeyance my decision regarding the objection.”
“Was there any evidence to show the club was wiped clean prior to the defendant's handling of it?”
“Objection, your honor.”
“Overruled.”
“No question about it. It should have been covered with other fingerprints from whoever handled it beforehand. It wasn't.”
“Did you check the other clubs in the office to see if they had fingerprints?
“Yes.”
“And did they have any fingerprints?”
“Yes”
“Whose fingerprints were they?”
“They all belonged to Dale Matthias, the victim.�
��
Chapter 17
Whooee! That Ikeda is something else again. While Sid was questioning the lieutenant, Ikeda's face was getting redder and redder. He couldn't have been any madder if the judge had used the gavel on his head instead of on the bench.
And Sid was magnificent.
I thought Kay was good at questioning witnesses, but Sid was born to it. He was so good he even made me forget for a while I was up to my ears in trouble. But when I did remember, it made me awfully thankful to know Sid was defending me and not prosecuting me. And it gave me the shivers to think I might have gotten a lawyer like Ikeda when I let my fingers do the walking.
I was feeling so good there for a while, I know I hallucinated. I could have sworn I saw Judge Raines smiling at me.
***
My God, Lisa thought, Even Hank DeMello looks good to me. And I know just what he's like—a big, bluff, and not terribly intelligent policeman, besides being a male chauvinist. He probably thinks I should be home raising a family instead of sitting up here.
Lisa Raines was having difficulties maintaining her objectivity in another respect as well. Ikeda was becoming a major irritant. “I haven't held any attorney in contempt of court yet, but if he keeps this up he's going to be my first,” she found herself thinking.
Keiko Nishimura had called her attention to the most recent editorial in the Chronicle. Lisa had found the editorials more amusing than annoying. “Do you think Scott Ikeda is really behind them?” she'd asked the court clerk.
Keiko nodded. “I went to school with one of the Ikedas, the son of the man who owns the Chronicle. They're ambitious as can be, and they don't care how they get ahead. It makes me mad to see them stirring up people. And there were two letters supporting the editorials in the paper today.”
“None opposed?” Lisa asked.
Keiko made a sniffing sound. “Old Samson Ikeda isn't about to let anyone disagree with him. He'll just pitch letters like that into the wastebasket.”
Lisa had dismissed the editorials from her mind, but now she wondered what the Chronicle would say if she jailed their boy wonder? She almost laughed aloud at the thought.
***
WHAT'S WRONG WITH OUR JUDICIARY?
When I showed up at Kay's office on the morning of the trial's second day, I found her and Sid reading the editorial under that headline and shaking their heads.
Sid was saying, “Incredible. This is getting close to trial by newspaper.”
“There's not a thing we can do about it though,” said Kay. “Whoever's writing those editorials is being damn careful to avoid mentioning the trial. As long as they stick to generalities, they're safe.”
I was puzzled by the whole thing. “Aren't they protected by freedom of the press? Couldn't they say just about anything they want about the trial or about the judge–—or about you two, for that matter–—and still get away with it?”
“Possible,” said Sid, “but there are two principles involved. One is freedom of the press and the other is your right to a fair trial. I'm no expert in that field, but I think the judge could impose a gag order on the paper if they get that far out of line. It would make for a big court fight. But there's no cut and dried answer as to what the final ruling would be.”
“Is it going to have any impact on the judge,” I asked.
“Not on Lisa Raines, it isn't,” Sid said. “If she even knows about these editorials, I'm sure the only thing she'll do is to be even more careful to be even handed. That isn't easy with Ikeda sounding off the way he is. That's why I could never be a judge. I'd have him gagged and put into leg irons.”
“Hey!” Kay said. “You’re supposed to be giving me moral support so I can put up with the weasel. What's happened?”
“I'm the one who had to listen to all those silly objections. It's you who's supposed to be giving me moral support.”
“You didn't need it. You came out way ahead, yesterday. I'm the one who's going to need it today, when the pathologist comes on the stand. This could make or break the case.”
I wasn't too wild over that thought.
***
Corky's right, Kay decided. Clyde Victorine does look like Hank DeMello. Unfortunately, he seems much more self-confident than Hank on the stand. He's going to be a hard nut to crack.
Ikeda had spent a needless five minutes eliciting from Dr. Victorine a long list of his qualifications. Ordinarily, it sufficed to have the county pathologist identify himself as such. Most prosecutors assumed the jury was probably sufficiently intelligent to figure out the county had hired a qualified person.
Ikeda went on to elicit not only testimony concerning the cause of death, but managed to lovingly rehearse the nature of the damage done to Matthias's skull. He'd developed a new technique of repeating the medical phrases uttered by the witness and asking for clarification.
Kay had to admit the approach was effective, mainly because Doctor Victorine was able to explain some of the more difficult concepts in ordinary language—a truly unusual quality in an expert witness. That was a relief, so far as Kay was concerned. Above everything else, she wanted the jury to understand and remember Victorine's answers to her own questions. Ikeda's questioning and his presentation of photos of the victim took far longer than it should have. The court clock was approaching eleven-thirty when Kay got up to cross-examine. Lisa called her attention to the time and asked if she would estimate the length of her cross examination.
“I'm quite certain I can finish up before twelve, your honor.”
“Very well, proceed.”
“For someone who has recently died from a wound, can the condition of the blood on the victim indicate in any way the time of death?”
“Certainly.” Victorine's tone matched the positive quality of his words. “The degree of clotting would be excellent evidence. Obviously, fresh flowing blood would be an indication of a very recent death.”
“So, generally, the more blood flowing from a wound, the longer it takes for clotting to occur. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Would you say in this instance there was a profusion of blood?”
“Quite the contrary. There was very little. No major arteries were involved.”
“So clotting would have occurred very rapidly?”
“Yes.”
“Could you give me an estimate as to how long the blood would have been a reliable measure of the time of death in this instance?”
Victorine shrugged. “It's difficult to say. Ten minutes perhaps. Maybe fifteen.”
“If we assume your measurement by other techniques set the time of death as two o'clock, then the clotting of the blood would have been a possible confirmation of that time, if you had arrived at the scene of the crime by two-ten or perhaps two-fifteen. Is that correct?”
“That's correct.”
“And what time did you arrive at the scene, doctor.”
“Two-fifty.”
Kay paused to let the answer sink in. She had the feeling Ikeda would try to undo the damage and decided to let him make matters worse.
“Do I understand you correctly, Dr. Victorine, the temperature of the body was the main basis for your decision in establishing the time of death?”
“Yes.”
“Would you go over the procedure once more for the benefit of the jury?”
“The principle is very simple. If we know the temperature of the air around the body, and we are certain there has been no significant changes in that temperature, we need only measure the temperature of the body to find out when the victim died.
“We do, of course, have to allow for such factors as body weight, clothing, room temperature, etc. In this instance, allowing for those factors and with a constant room temperature of 72 degrees, we know this body would have lost approximately 1.5 degrees of body temperature an hour following death. I measured the victim's temperature at twelve-fifty, and found it to be 97.4. That places the time of death around two o'clock. We add a margin
of ten minutes both ways to allow for minor factors such as the particular kind of clothing fabric and possible fluctuations in room temperature.”
Kay kept an eye on the clock while walking Victorine through the procedure a step at a time.
“Did you examine the stomach contents of the victim?”
“Yes, but there was only an undigested bit of what was probably a sandwich in his stomach. And since we don't know when he ate it, we can't use it as a basis for establishing the time of death. All I can say about the food is he probably took a bite out of his sandwich some ten minutes or so before he died.”
“Was there anything else in his digestive tract or his blood that was unexpected?”
Victorine grimaced. “He hadn't had a meal in a considerable length of time. That was quite evident.”
Victorine paused and went on. “The presence of acetylsalicylic acid—aspirin—was quite marked, in his bladder, small intestine and in his blood,” he answered, then added hastily, “but in far smaller quantities than could have been fatal or even toxic.”
Kay envisaged a bonus here she hadn't expected, having suddenly remembered aspirin had an effect on the rate of blood clotting, but time was running short. “What significance might the presence of a quantity of aspirin in his system have?”
Victorine shrugged. “I'd guess he wasn't feeling very well for several hours prior to his death. They indicate several doses of aspirin having been taken over the course of the previous ten to twelve hours.”
Glancing at the clock, Kay decided to explore the impact of aspirin blood clotting and asked Victorine about the effect.
“Yes. There might be a considerable slowing of blood coagulation time if the deceased had just recently taken large amounts of aspirin.”
“Could it mean such a deceased person with fresh blood on him might have actually died earlier than one might have assumed from the condition of the blood?”
“That's correct, but . . .”
Kay interrupted him, feeling further clarification would work against any point she might have hoped to have established by this line of questioning. And, besides, her self-appointed time had almost run out. Kay returned to the temperature test Victorine had used. Her final question was, “In your opinion, the use of this approach is a completely reliable method of determining the time of death. Is that correct?”
No Time for Death: A Yoshinobu Mystery Page 11