“Yes, and a very good summary, at that.” Victorine’s tone as well as his words clearly showed his approval and more.
Oh, God, Laura thought, irrelevantly, am I going to get someone else calling me up to go out to dinner? She quickly shook off the thought.
“Were there any injuries which might have been indicative of some other causative agent, such as a knife, for example?”
“Yes. There was a puzzling penetration of the aortic arch—that’s a region of the heart—which conceivably could have been caused by some sharp object such as a knife.”
“Could the victim still have been able to move following such a wound, assuming for the moment it was in fact a knife wound.”
“That’s difficult to say. Certainly, he would have died shortly after receiving it, depending on the degree of damage done to the aorta. That, of course, is the problem. Because animals and insects did so much additional damage to the body, it’s hard to estimate the extent of the original wound. All I can say is it’s possible for him to have been ambulatory after being stabbed—if he was stabbed.”
“So, it is possible someone could receive a wound in the aortic arch and still be able to walk some distance, let’s say one or two hundred feet, before lapsing into unconsciousness or dying?”
“Yes.”
Emil was quick to come forward for re-examination. He made no effort to refute the alcohol percentages in Lyndon Stanner’s blood. Instead he got Victorine to readily admit the wound in question could have resulted from the edge of the truck’s fender or some other sharp portion of the vehicle. Victorine was less willing to accept the likelihood of a glass fragment from the headlights causing the damage, but finally admitted such an event was within the realm of possibility.
Through all of the questioning of Victorine, the audience had been completely alert. When Emil announced he had no further questions, an audible sigh came from one or two of the jurors as they all sat back in their chairs.
Chapter 21
“When was the last time you saw the Jacintos?” Corky was having a difficult time suppressing her excitement.
“A month or so ago.” The black peas scrutinized her face. “We engaged in a business transaction.”
“Yes?”
“Jerome and Wilson had come by a rather distinguished fighting cock, one from a line in the Philippines which has long been considered to be no longer in existence.”
Neither Hank nor Corky made any comments. Both had developed the techniques of the experienced interrogator, which relied heavily on allowing the subject to talk uninterruptedly once the words began to flow. Their heads nodded simultaneously.
“It’s a line that was discovered and owned by the Macanas family prior to World War Two, many years before my time. It was a cross between their own birds and a wild fowl. Unfortunately, the exigencies of the war years sent many of their stock to the cook pot. By the time I became interested in the commercial aspect of this enterprise, what was left of the Macanas line was completely controlled by one man. I purchased fertile eggs from him at a considerable sum, and had no success at hatching them.”
A single furrowed line appeared between the Fat Priest’s eyes and brought the two black peas even closer together. He sighed. “I was somewhat naive back in those days, being all too trustful of my fellow man. So I was quite shocked when I discovered the seller had placed the eggs in boiling water before making the delivery. Unfortunately, my assistants, who I sent out to reprimand him for this lack of principles on his part, overreacted; and the fighting cocks were irreparably damaged as well.”
Hank and Corky had differing visions concerning the reprimand. Hank envisioned a small band of guerrillas riddling a remote rural household with assault-rifle fire. Corky pictured hand grenades being lobbed into a compound.
“I had completely abandoned the notion I would find any remnant of that remarkably aggressive line of fowl. Then Jerome Jacinto called me one day not long ago. As you may imagine, I found it hard to believe the Macanas line was still in existence. I demanded proof. Jerome provided it.
“They called their fighting cock ‘El Diablo Rojo.’ He was well named. With his opponent’s and his own spurs heavily padded, he demonstrated a remarkable enthusiasm for the activities of the ring, but I was no longer interested in dubious eggs. ‘Once bitten twice shy’ is, I believe, the American expression for my reaction. Instead, I offered Jerome a substantial sum for the magnificent rooster. We closed the deal some two months ago. That is the last I saw of the Jacinto brothers.”
“How much did you pay for the fighting cock?” Hank asked.
The cupid’s bow lips pursed. “Thirty-five thousand dollars.”
Corky whistled.
“Quite a reasonable sum, actually. As police officers, I’m sure you must be aware of the amounts changing hands at cock fights.”
Hank nodded emphatically. He remembered a raid of a rather ill-attended performance where the emptied pockets of the spectators produced almost a quarter-of-a-million dollars.
“What was the exact date of the transaction?” Corky asked.
“I’m not quite certain. I can look it up on my appointments calendar, of course. It was a Friday, six or seven weeks ago. I remember the meeting distinctly, since the Jacintos were unhappy about having to wait over the weekend to cash their check. There was quite a quarrel among the three of them, as a matter of fact.”
“Three of them?”
“Yes. The third party, as I understand it, was the actual owner of the bird. There had been some arrangement between him and the Jacintos. He provided the fighting cock, and they did the training. Their quarrel was over how the money should be divided. Since I had no intention of becoming involved in their argument, I simply gave them a check made out in all of their names. I told them they would have to settle their differences on their own since the check required all three signatures.”
Hank and Corky sat forward in their chairs. Hank asked, “Who was the third party?”
The Fat Priest hesitated. Both Hank and Corky knew he was aware of how much they wanted the information. A bare hint of a smile crossed his featureless features as he paused longer than necessary. Finally, he said, “A gentleman named Lyndon Stanner.”
“Did the check clear?” Hank asked, watching the Fat Priest closely.
“Most certainly, though the sellers would have preferred to have had cash. They were rather upset the banks were closed by the time we had completed the transaction. I’m certain they were waiting at the bank for the doors to open on the following Monday morning.” Again, what was probably a smile moved fleetingly across the crowded features.
“Do you still have the canceled check?”
“Why, of course. I keep meticulous records of all transactions, since there are certain government agencies which are rather demanding in that respect.”
“So we can get a photocopy of it?”
“I will be happy to provide you with one, Lieutenant. I’ll call my accountant, and he’ll have a copy made immediately.”
“That’s all right. Just write a note, and I’ll have a patrolman drop by and pick up the copy.”
The furrow came back between the dark peas. “I have the unhappy feeling I am being kept incommunicado.”
Hank grinned. “I wouldn’t really call it that. I’m only going to have you stay overnight. You can consider yourself to be a guest of the county.”
The furrow deepened. “I’ve had some experience with the county’s hospitality. I find the sleeping accommodations to be distinctly uncomfortable. Let me assure you I have no intention of communicating any of this conversation to the Jacintos, or to anyone else, for that matter.”
“Sorry. This may now be a capital case. I’d feel much better if there’s no possibility of the suspects being alerted?”
“Suspects? My understanding is Mr. Stanner’s demise occurred in a traffic accident. Let me assure you the Jacintos lack the imagination to use such a novel way of solving any of thei
r financial problems. They would have been far more direct.”
“That’s the point. They may have been. In any case, I’m not taking any chances. We’ll try to supply you with more comfortable sleeping accommodations than you had during your last stay, and you’ll be out by noon, tomorrow. Think of it as protective custody.”
For the first time, the crowded features broadened into what was this time unmistakably a smile. “I am honored by your concern for my well-being.”
***
During Emil’s cross-examination of Victorine, Kay passed a note along to Laura. “Ask for a five-minute recess as soon as Emil’s finished.”
Laura did not like either the notion of asking Judge Wong for a favor which would tax his patience, or for a pause in the trial while its impetus seemed to be going in the defense’s favor. She knew, however, Kay must have come up with important information in order to make such a suggestion.
Judge Wong’s expression was ominous, but he granted the request.
“I’ve stumbled across something,” Kay said as soon as the recess began. “It may be worth doing something with it.” Laura and Kimo were both listening closely to her.
“Roger says you had a headache and took an aspirin while you were at his house. Is that right, Kimo.”
Kimo nodded. “Two, in fact. They worked. I don’t often get headaches, but a couple of aspirin takes care of them when I do.”
“Well, I remembered reading somewhere how aspirin taken before drinking raises the blood alcohol level. I just had Leilani do a computer search on the relationship, and she found one study showing how even one aspirin can raise the level by as much as a third.”
Laura almost cheered. “Great. That explains it. I’m sure Sukuma must know that. I wish I’d remembered what Roger said, or thought to ask Kimo about aspirin when I was getting all the data together for Cal. I guess it really doesn’t matter, since Sukuma can go ahead and testify Kimo really wasn’t above the DUI level.”
“Hold it! It’s not quite so easy. The aspirin may explain why his blood alcohol level was so high, but the law doesn’t make any provisos for that. 0.08 is the cutoff point regardless of the reason for it. If the aspirin makes a person that drunk, that’s what matters.”
“Damn!” Laura said. “If we only had more time, I’m sure we could do something with the information, but I can see what you’re getting at. If we argue the aspirin was the cause of the 0.09 reading and so Kimo wasn’t drinking dangerously, Emil will just say the 0.09 figure is what counts. He’ll point out we’re now admitting to the meaningfulness of the reading.”
Kay nodded and Kimo looked crestfallen.
“I’m going to just let it ride,” Laura said, “even though I hate to.”
When court resumed, Laura consoled herself with finding Professor Sukuma had, in fact, no more reservations in his testimony this time than he had had previously. If anything, his earlier experience on the same witness stand gave him a feeling of assurance which was reflected in his answers. Laura had the further advantage of having heard Emil’s previous cross-examination. She took some of the impact out of his turn at the witness by asking Sukuma some anticipatory questions.
Essentially, it came out the blood test had a large margin of error. Kimo’s blood-alcohol level, as measured by the techniques used by the Napua Police Department, might have been higher than the actual blood-alcohol level. It was quite possible, according to Professor Sukuma, that the actual blood-alcohol level was lower, lower than the minimum considered proof of intoxication which would impair a person’s driving ability.
Laura knew she was involved in a dilemma. On the one hand she was trying to make the jury believe the test of the live driver might have been inaccurate. On the other she wanted them to accept the far more dubious sounding results from the rain-diluted blood of a corpse. She hoped Emil would not pick up on the seeming contradiction.
As it turned out, Emil’s cross-examination was comparatively perfunctory and didn’t touch on the obvious problem. Emil left it at demonstrating how, if Kimo’s blood test might have been in error in one direction, it could as easily have been in error in the other.
Fred Merritt measured up to his previous performance. He was adamant in his claim Kimo was sober. Emil’s cross-examination failed to shake him in any way.
Laura glanced up at the clock. Wong seemed to read her thoughts without looking at her, and adjourned to the following morning. As she picked up her papers and placed them in her briefcase, Laura was pleased with how the trial was going. Trying to put herself in the place of a juror, she was convinced the weight of evidence was now clearly on Kimo’s side. Her growing optimism kept her from noticing the concerned expression on Kay’s face.
***
Bluebeard had discovered the joys of paper bags. Sid had accidentally dropped one on the floor while unloading groceries. The young cat immediately commandeered it and was using it as a launching pad to fling himself at John Samuel or any other creature passing within range. Sheena was disdainfully watching the antics of the other two cats, preferring to expend her energies in guarding the refrigerator door.
“You have to take time out to see Laura in court,” Kay said. “She’s doing a superb job. I thought she’d be nervous but, if she is, there’s no sign of it.”
“I would like to see her in action. I’ll be free by late morning. Will it go that long? If it does, Qual should be back from Honolulu by then, and he can come along with me.”
“Laura’s hoping to give her summation before noon, so you should at least be able to get in on that. She’s going to have Drina and her mother testify first thing. Mostly it’s to establish Lyndon was a heavy drinker. The Kalahuis aren’t especially cooperative, but I think they’ll be eager enough to run down Lyndon’s character.”
“What about the Jacintos?”
“We’ve debated that. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to end the list of witnesses with a couple of hostile ones. It will be a real test of Laura’s ability, but she’ll still have Kimo at the end. He’s sure to make a good impression.”
“Isn’t there any evidence yet of contact between the Jacintos and Lyndon?”
“None. I feel the way Laura does about it. If we’d had even one more week, we might have made the connection. As it is, I’m sure they’re going to hang tough and deny knowing Lyndon. About all we have is a gate which was open at the time of the accident, and closed after the body disappeared. That’s hardly firm evidence of anything. If we had just one, single witness who would testify he’d seen them together, we’d have it made.”
Chapter 22
Corky dropped the photocopy of the check on Hank’s desk. “I’m no expert, but Lyndon’s signature looks suspiciously like it was written by the same person who wrote Jerome’s?”
Hank reached into his in-basket. “I’m no expert, either, but I’ve got help here. I sent for a copy of Lyndon’s license application from the Motor Vehicle department. Here’s their return fax.”
The two of them bent over the two signatures which Hank was holding side by side.
“It’s definitely a forgery,” Corky said.
“Sure looks that way. Take it to Max in bunco and get his opinion. We’ll assume it is if he agrees.’
“Can I get the news off to Laura then?” Corky asked. “I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed at this piece of information.”
Hank shook his head. “There’s plenty of time for that. I’m going to see if I can get a search warrant on the basis of it. If Max agrees with us, see if either Wong or Raines is free. I’ll go over the evidence with them and see what they think.”
“Blood?”
“Uh-huh. If they carried the body, they must have gotten plenty of blood on themselves. We’ll go over their kitchen and bathroom sinks with a microscope.”
In a matter of minutes, Corky made a triumphant return to Hank’s office. “Max says there’s no question about it. Jerome Jacinto’s signature and Lyndon Stanner’s signature on the check are
in the same hand. It’s most certainly not Lyndon who did the signing. Also, Max is almost positive whoever did it copied the signature off of Lyndon’s license. He got a copy from the license division and compared the writing.”
Hank’s eyes lit up. “It’s not hard to figure out how Jerome got the license to copy the signature from.”
“It sure isn’t,” Corky agreed, then said, “I checked, and Judge Raines will be in chambers for the next hour or so. She said to come on over.”
Hank grinned. “I know you’re dying to get in on this, so come along.”
If anything, she’s more beautiful than ever, Corky thought, as she watched Lisa Raines examining the signatures and listening to Hank’s quick explanation. Her new housemate must agree with her. She sure smiles a lot more than she used to.
Judge Raines had high cheekbones, a coppery complexion, jade green eyes and long jet-black hair. The combination was striking. Hank, as usual, was openly appreciative.
“Isn’t this rather tenuous for you to be opening a homicide investigation, Lieutenant?” she asked. “If I understand the situation correctly, the pathologist says the victim died as the result of an automobile accident, and the driver was neither of the Jacintos.”
“That’s correct. The best we can do is to demonstrate they tried to hide the fact of Lyndon Stanner’s death. Sergeant Medeiros and I are convinced that, at the very least, they stampeded Lyndon Stanner into running into the side of the pickup.”
“Do you think you can prove that?”
Hank shook his head. “Unfortunately no, your honor. If we do get some evidence of their having handled the body, and if we question the brothers separately, we might get a confession.”
Lisa Raines smiled. “That sounds highly speculative.”
“We have something already to hold over their heads.” Hank pointed to the photocopy the judge was holding in her hands. “The forged endorsement was almost certainly done by Jerome. Also, they have consistently denied knowing Lyndon Stanner. We now not only have the check to show they were lying, but we have a witness who will swear they knew Lyndon. The witness will also testify they quarreled with Lyndon on the evening of the accident.”
Dead and Gone Page 14
