The Baxter Trust

41

When court reconvened the next morning, Dirkson called Carla Finley to the stand.

Sheila Benton leaned over to Steve Winslow, and whispered, “Who’s she?”

“Greely’s girlfriend,” Steve whispered back.

“Oh.”

Sheila was surprised. She had been so caught up in her own predicament, that it had never occurred to her the dead man was a person too, with a life of his own, and friends, and girlfriends. She watched Carla Finley with some interest.

Steve watched Carla Finley with some interest too. It was hard to believe that this woman walking down the aisle and taking the witness stand was the same woman he had seen in the peep show. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead and tied in a sedate bun. She was dressed in conservative, black mourning attire. But the main difference was her eyes. The eyes that in the peep show had seemed so bright, so alert, so challenging, the eyes that held the come-hither look, were now discreetly downcast. The effect was to transform a porn queen into a bereaved widow.

In Steve’s opinion, she had been brilliantly coached.

Carla Finley took the stand, and, in soft, halting tones, guided by Dirkson’s skillful questioning, stated that she had known the deceased, Robert Greely, in his lifetime, that she had gone to the morgue to identify a dead body, and that the dead man was the man whom she had known as Robert Greely.

“That’s all,” Dirkson said.

Carla Finley got up to leave the stand.

Steve rose to his feet. “I have a few questions on cross-examination,” he said. He crossed to the witness stand. “Now. Miss Finley, you say you recognized the body as that of Robert Greely?”

“Yes.”

“How long had you known Mr. Greely?”

“About five years.”

“Did you meet him through your work?”

Dirkson was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. This witness was called for a limited purpose, that of identifying the body. Let counsel confine his questions to that. These matters he is touching on are incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

Judge Crandell leaned over the bench. “I think the objection is well taken. The witness was called for a limited purpose.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Steve said. “Identifying the body. Which is what I’m going into. Surely the accuracy of her identification of the dead man will depend on how well she knew him. Which is what I’m going into.”

Judge Crandell narrowed his eyes. “You’re questioning the matter of identity?”

“I don’t know, Your Honor, because I haven’t asked my questions yet. But I certainly intend to ask them. So far, all we have in evidence here is the fact this witness claims the dead man was Robert Greely. I certainly intend to find out on what grounds she bases her claim.”

“Very well. The witness will answer the question.”

“The question,” Steve said, “was did you meet him through your work?”

“Yes.”

“What were you wearing at the time?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

“Sustained,” Judge Crandell ruled.

“May I be heard, Your Honor?”

Judge Crandell shook his head. “The question is clearly improper.”

“Very well.” Steve turned back to the witness. “Then let me ask you this-were you wearing anything at the time you met Robert Greely?”

Dirkson was on his feet shouting. “Your Honor! Your Honor! Objection. I charge the asking of that question as misconduct. Your Honor has already ruled.”

“Mr. Winslow,” Judge Crandell said sternly. “I believe the prosecutor is correct. Your question borders seriously on misconduct. I may have to find you in contempt of court. Before I do, do you have any explanation to make for asking such a question?”

“I do, Your Honor.”

“Then would you please explain?”

“Certainly, Your Honor. I am trying to find out the basis for Miss Finley’s identification of the dead man. She has testified that she met him through her employment. It happens that Miss Finley is employed as a nude dancer in a peep show on Forty-second Street. I am attempting to find out if Mr. Greely was merely a customer in that establishment, for surely the identification of someone who was a longtime friend of the decedent will be more forceful than that of a nude model who knew him only as a customer who used to ogle her naked body in a peep show.”

Dirkson was on his feet to object, but Carla Finley beat him to it. “You son of a bitch!” she shrieked from the witness stand. Her demure manner was completely gone and her eyes were blazing.

The court burst into an uproar. It took Judge Crandell five bangs of the gavel to quiet it.

“That will do,” Judge Crandell said. “Mr. Prosecutor, please be quiet. I will handle this. Now then, Mr. Winslow,” Crandell went on, “have you any reason at all, however remote, why I should not consider the statement you have just made contempt of court?”

“Certainly, Your Honor.”

Crandell gawked at him. “You do?”

“Yes, Your Honor. I made that statement in response to a direct question by you, asking me to explain my reasons for asking the witness if she was wearing anything at the time she met Robert Greely. I had no choice but to make it, since the question was a directive from the court. In fact, had I not made that statement, I would be in contempt of court.

“If I am in error, I would like to apologize to the court and to the prosecutor. And as far as the question itself goes, I will not pursue this any further, I will withdraw it. And I have no further questions of this witness.”

Dirkson started to say something, thought better of it and held his tongue.

Crandell glared down at Winslow, trying to think of the proper rebuke. None came to mind.

“Very well,” Crandell said. “I am holding the matters of misconduct and contempt of court under advisement. I shall rule on them at a future time. For the time being, the question is withdrawn. The witness is excused.”

Steve bowed to the judge and returned to his table. As he sat down, Sheila leaned over and said, “Why did you do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“That didn’t accomplish anything. That poor woman. What difference does it make what she does for a living? She loved that man and she’s upset. Why did you have to do that?”

“The prosecutor was trying to play on the sympathies of the jury. So they dress her in black and play her up as the bereaved. I had to counteract that. I did it.”

“It wasn’t right.”

“Your displeasure is noted.”

Judge Crandell banged his gavel somewhat irritably. “Call your next witness.”

Dirkson recalled Reginald Steele. This time the prosecutor took pains to qualify him as an expert, asking for his education, training and experience as a police technician.

Steele gave them with some pleasure. He was a tall, thin man with a sort of squashed-in-looking face, that still managed to have that aloof quality of some expert technicians. He had been somewhat uncomfortable during the knife-identification sequence, but in giving his qualifications he was smug.

“Now Mr. Steele,” Dirkson said, after he had qualified the witness, “you testified that you developed fingerprints on the murder weapon, People’s Exhibit number one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did you subsequently identify those prints?”

“I did.”

“Whose prints were they?”

“The prints of the defendant, Sheila Benton.”

Dirkson nodded at Winslow. “Cross-examine.”

Steve got to his feet, crossed to the witness and smiled.

“You say you found the fingerprints of the defendant on the knife, Mr. Steele?”

“That is correct.”

“I notice the district attorney didn’t ask you if you found anyone else’s fingerprints on the knife.”

Reginald Steele said nothing.

“Can’t you answer that, Mr. Steele?”

“No I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Steele smiled. “Because it isn’t a question.”

Laughter greeted this sally. Dirkson let the jury see his broad grin.

Steve smiled back at the witness. “You’re right. It isn’t. So let me ask you some questions. Did you find the fingerprints of anyone else on the knife?”

“No. I did not.”

“You found only the fingerprints of the defendant?”

“That’s right.”

“How many fingerprints did you find?”

“I found four legible fingerprints. That is, four prints that were clear enough to classify and identify.”

“And what prints were they?”

“I found the print of the defendant’s right thumb, right index finger, right middle finger, and right ring finger.”

“I see. Did these four prints, taken together, indicate the position of the hand gripping the knife?”

“Yes they did. The four prints indicated that the defendant had held the knife in a firm grip.”

Steve nodded his head. “Well, that’s mighty interesting, Mr. Steele. But you didn’t consider that particularly important, did you?”

“Of course I did.”

“You didn’t mention it on direct examination.”

“I wasn’t asked.”

“I noticed that. Now let me ask you this. Did you know you weren’t going to be asked on direct examination?”

Dirkson was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. How could the witness know what he was going to be asked on direct examination? Counsel is asking for a conclusion from the witness.”

“The witness would know if he had been told what he was going to be asked. So I would like to ask you, Mr. Steele, if you and District Attorney Dirkson discussed the manner in which you would give your testimony.”

“Your Honor, Your Honor,” Dirkson cried. “This is beyond all bounds. Naturally a prosecutor does not go into court blind. I discuss with the witnesses what their testimony will be. But that discussion has no bearing on the case, and counsel has no right to inquire into it.”

“It’s always proper to show bias,” Steve said.

“What bias?” Dirkson said impatiently. “This is an expert technician giving expert testimony. The fingerprints belong to Sheila Benton. The facts are the facts. Nothing can alter them.”

“The facts may be the facts, but the manner in which they are presented, as counsel well knows, may have a bearing on the outcome of this trial. Now, Your Honor, it is my contention that this witness had an understanding with the district attorney that it would be more damaging to the defendant’s case to have the details about the fingerprint evidence-that the only prints on the knife were those of the defendant, and that the four prints indicated where the knife had been held in a firm grip-brought out by me on cross-examination, rather than by the district attorney on direct examination. It is my contention that because of this understanding, Mr. Steele deliberately refrained from mentioning these points on direct examination, and that his doing so is an indication of his bias.”

Dirkson was ready with an argument, but Judge Crandell cut in. “I think it is more an indication of the skill of the prosecutor than the bias of the witness. What you are describing, Mr. Winslow, is rather elemental courtroom strategy. Now if you really wish to pursue the matter under the guise of establishing bias, I suppose you have the right to do so, but I must warn you I feel you are beating a dead horse.”

Steve smiled. “I think we can let the matter drop, Your Honor. Let’s move on to something else. Mr. Steele, in addition to developing the prints on the knife, you also developed fingerprints in the defendant’s apartment, did you not?”

“I did.”

“Did you examine a knife rack affixed to the wall of the defendant’s kitchen?”

“Yes, sir. I did.”

“How many knives were in the rack?”

“I believe there were three.”

“But there were spaces in the rack for four, were there not?”

“I can’t be sure how many spaces there were in the rack.”

“Yes, but there was one empty space in the rack, was there not? What I’m getting at is, regardless of how many knives there were in the rack, there was space for one more.”

“That is correct.”

“And aside from the size and shape, were the knives similar in style and design to the murder knife?”

“Yes, sir. They were.”

“And did you examine these knives for fingerprints?”

“I did.”

“And did you find any?”

“Yes, sir.”

“On all the knives?”

“Yes, sir. I believe so.”

“And whose fingerprints were they?”

“The fingerprints of the defendant.”

“So, if I understand your testimony correctly, there were at least four knives in the apartment, including the murder knife, and all of them had the defendant’s fingerprints on them.”

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“So assuming the murder weapon was a knife from the rack, you would have considered it unusual if it had not had the defendant’s fingerprints on it.”

Dirkson leapt to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor! The question is argumentative, assuming facts not in evidence, and calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”

“I’ll withdraw the question,” Steve said. “Now, Mr. Steele, I believe you took photographs of the prints on the murder weapon.”

“I directed such pictures to be taken. My assistant was the one who actually took them.”

“Would you produce them, please?”

“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Those photographs are a part of the prosecution’s case. I intend to introduce them into evidence at a later time.”

“And I’d like to introduce them now,” Steve said. “Because I intend to cross-examine this witness on them. Now I could simply delay my cross-examination and recall Mr. Steele at a later time, but in the interest of expediency I don’t see why we can’t introduce them now.”

“But Mr. Steele didn’t take the pictures.”

“Well, the defense will stipulate that his assistant did, and that the pictures you are producing are those pictures that he took.”

“I prefer to put on my own case in my own way, Your Honor.”

“I understand,” Crandell said. “But the stipulation would save time. And I take it there is no dispute as to the accuracy of the pictures.”

“No, Your Honor. Very well, I stipulate the pictures may be produced in evidence.”

The pictures were produced and marked by the clerk, People’s Exhibit number two, A through K.

Steve examined the pictures. He chose one, and approached the witness.

“Now, Mr. Steele, I hand you a photo, People’s Exhibit number two-D, and ask you what it shows.”

Steele examined the photo. “That is a picture of the handle of the knife. The large print that you see is the imprint of the defendant’s thumb. The smaller prints, which are only partly visible on the bottom edge of the handle, are the defendant’s first, middle and ring fingers.”

“I hand you another photo, People’s Exhibit two-E.”

“That is another angle on the knife handle, showing the prints of the fingers more clearly.”

“Very good,” Steve said. He crossed to the defense table, reached in his briefcase and took out a roll of masking tape, then crossed to the clerk and picked up the knife. He crossed back again to the witness.

“Now, Mr. Steele, I hand you the knife, People’s Exhibit number 1, and this roll of masking tape, and I ask you to take this tape, and referring to the photographs, mark on the knife handle where the defendant’s fingerprints are.”

“Mark them how?”

“Here’s a pen. Just affix a piece of tape to the handle where each print is, and sketch in the direction of the finger.”

The witness took the masking tape and affixed four short strips to the knife handle. Then he took the pen and drew in the fingers.

Steve took the knife and looked at it. “Thank you, Mr. Steele. Now let me ask you this. Having examined the fingerprint evidence in this case, have you reached an expert opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant?”

Dirkson started to stand up, then slowly sat down again. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening, but he wasn’t about to stop it.

“I have,” Steele said, grimly.

“And what is your expert opinion?”

Judge Crandell leaned forward. “One moment, here. Before the witness answers the question. Mr. Winslow, although it is not my position to presume what this witness’s answer may be, I must point out to you that the answer that you are calling for might be one that is highly detrimental to your client. I have no wish to let the record of this trial be blemished in any way so that it could be claimed that the defendant did not have adequate representation. So I ask you to reconsider your question.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. I don’t wish to do that.”

Judge Crandell’s lips clamped together. “Very well. Miss Benton.”

Sheila, startled at being addressed, said, “What?”

“Have you heard what your attorney asked the witness?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Call me Your Honor.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Do you object to what your attorney is doing?”

Sheila looked sideways up at Steve. He looked down at her. His face was neutral, like that of a poker player running a bluff. She couldn’t read it at all.

She looked back at the judge. “No, Your Honor.”

Judge Crandell looked greatly displeased. “Very well,” he said. “The witness will answer the question. Court reporter will read the question.”

The reporter pawed through his paper tapes. “Question: ‘Having examined the fingerprint evidence in this case, have you reached an expert opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant?’ Answer: ‘I have.’ Question: ‘And what is your expert opinion?’”

Steele took a breath. “It is my expert opinion,” he said, “that the defendant, Sheila Benton, stabbed the decedent, Robert Greely, with the knife.”

A gasp went up from the audience in the courtroom, followed by a loud murmur.

District Attorney Dirkson grinned broadly.

Judge Crandell frowned, and banged for silence.

Steve smiled and held up his hand.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Steele. Now then, you have testified that in your expert opinion, Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely with this knife. You base your opinion on her fingerprints, which you have marked on the handle of the knife with masking tape and pen. Now, I am going to ask you to take hold of the handle of the knife in your right hand, and place your fingers in the positions of the prints which you have marked on the handle.”

Steele took the knife and positioned it in his hand, lining up the finger marks.

Steve looked at him and smiled. “That’s what I thought, Mr. Steele.”

Steele looked at him. “What?”

“When you put your hand on the knife in the position you claim the defendant held it, you’re holding it like a sword, out in front of you. Your thumb is on the part of the handle closest to the blade of the knife, and your fingers are curled around the handle behind it. Now is that not the position in which you would hold the knife to carve a roast?”

“Objection,” Dirkson said. “What the witness would do is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

“I’ll withdraw the question, and ask another. You testified that in your expert opinion Sheila Benton stabbed the victim while holding the knife in the manner in which you are now holding it. In your expert opinion, is it possible to stab someone in the back while holding a knife like that?”

“It is.”

“Is it?” Steve said. “Stand up, please.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Stand up.”

“May I ask the purpose of this?” Dirkson said.

“This witness has testified that my client stabbed the decedent with this knife. I intend to test his recollection, and his qualifications.”

Reginald Steele looked up at Judge Crandell for guidance.

“Counsel is within his rights,” Crandell said. “The witness will stand up.”

Steele rose.

“Come down here,” Steve said. “Yes. That’s right. Right down here with me.”

The witness did as he was instructed.

“You are now holding the knife in the manner in which you say the fingerprints indicate the defendant held it?”

“That’s right.”

“Fine.” Steve turned his back to the witness. “Stab me in the back.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then gasps of shock, and a murmur of voices ran through the courtroom. Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Objection!” he blurted.

Steve pitched his voice above the din. “Stab me in the back,” he repeated.

The courtroom was in an uproar. Dirkson was trying to shout over the noise.

Crandell banged the gavel. “Order! Order!” he roared.

The courtroom quieted. Crandell glared down from his bench. “Please be advised that this is a courtroom, not a sideshow. If we cannot have order, I will have the spectators removed. Is that clear?”

Crandell’s eyes swept the room. No one moved.

“Now,” Crandell said. “Mr. Prosecutor, if you have an objection, please state it.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel for the defense has asked this witness to stab him in the back. I maintain that this is not proper cross-examination. It is a stunt, a theatrical exercise, and is totally out of place in a courtroom. I assign it as misconduct.”

Judge Crandell frowned. “This is the second time this morning the charge of misconduct has been raised.”

“May I be heard, Your Honor?” Steve said.

“You may.”

“Your Honor, this witness is an expert technician in the employ of the police department. He has testified that in his expert opinion, the fingerprint evidence that he found on the knife indicates that the defendant killed Robert Greely. That testimony is an utter falsehood, founded only upon this witness’s bias in favor of the prosecution, and made only with the intention of prejudicing the jury against the defendant. I intend to make the witness retract that testimony, and I am going to cross-examine him on it until he does so, even if it takes all afternoon.

“The witness has stated that Sheila Benton held the knife in the manner in which he is now holding it, and stabbed the decedent. That is utter nonsense. The medical evidence indicates that the blow was struck by someone stabbing the knife down into the back of the victim. I have asked this witness to stab me in the back, holding the knife the way he says Sheila Benton held it. He can’t do it. He can’t do it, and he’s a good four inches taller than she is. He can’t do it because he’s holding the handle like a sword, with his thumb in the position on the handle closest to the blade, and the fingers behind it. Whereas, to have inflicted the fatal blow, it is clear the assailant must have held the knife the other way, with the thumb toward the end of the handle, and the fingers closer to the middle of the knife, so that the knife could be stabbed down.

“These are clear and incontrovertible facts, which would be admitted by any witness that was not prejudiced in favor of the prosecution, and I intend to make this witness admit them if it takes all day.”

“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Counsel has no right to argue the case at this time.”

“Exactly,” Crandell said irritably. “Mr. Dirkson, no further argument is needed at this time. Nor from you, Mr. Winslow. The Court is going to make a ruling. But first the Court is going to charge the jury.” Judge Crandell turned to the jury and addressed them. “I want the jurors to understand that the remarks of the defense attorney are not in evidence, and you should give them no weight. He was arguing why he should be allowed to question the witness on the point. His arguments on the point, the contentions that he has made, are his and his alone, and do not constitute evidence. The only thing you are allowed to consider as evidence in this case is the body of pertinent questions that are asked, and the answers they elicit.” Crandell turned back to the attorneys. “The Court is now going to rule. The Court is going to rule,” Crandell said, with a trace of an ironic smile, “that it is not incumbent upon this witness to stab the defense attorney in the back. In other words, the objection is sustained. However, Mr. Winslow is quite correct in his contention that he be allowed to cross-examine the witness on the statement that he made, and the Court is going to allow any reasonable amount of pertinent questions on that subject. Now, Mr. Winslow, aside from asking to be done bodily harm, you are free to question the witness.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Steve said. “Mr. Steele, if you would care to sit down.”

Steele returned to the witness stand.

Steve stalked him, as a cat might stalk a mouse.

“Now, Mr. Steele, you have testified that in your opinion Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely, holding the knife in the manner you indicated?”

“Objection,” said Dirkson. “Already asked and answered.”

“I think it was,” Crandell said, “but it would also seem to be merely preliminary. Could we attempt to dispense with overly technical objections?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said with poor grace.

“Answer the question,” Steve said.

“Yes,” Steele said. “That’s what I said.”

“Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely with that knife?”

“Yes.”

“Holding it in her hand?”

“Yes.”

“In the manner you indicated?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how tall Sheila Benton is?”

“No, I do not.”

“Is she six feet tall?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t? You’re an expert technician. You’re trained to notice details. Do you mean to tell me you can’t tell if Sheila Benton is six feet tall?”

“Objection. Argumentative,” Dirkson said.

“Sustained.”

Steve turned to the defense table. “Sheila Benton. Stand up.”

Sheila stood.

“Now, Mr. Steele, I want you to look at the defendant and tell me if she is over or under six feet tall.”

“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “I hate to keep objecting, in view of your admonition, but this is totally irrelevant and calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”

“It does not, Your Honor,” Steve said. “It goes to his qualifications as an expert, and it goes to show bias.”

Judge Crandell looked down at him. “Bias?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The witness is a veteran observer. Surely he can look at a girl and tell if she is six feet tall or not. However, he knows what I am getting at, so he doesn’t want to say that she’s less than six feet tall. His refusal to say so is an indication of his bias.”

Judge Crandell smiled. “The argument is adroitly framed, if somewhat farfetched. However, the question could be construed as a test of his qualifications. The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question.”

“Is the defendant over or under six feet tall?” Winslow asked.

“I’m not sure,” Steele said.

“Thank you for a fair and impartial answer,” Steve said, sarcastically. “Now, Mr. Steele, I’m not going to bother having the defendant come up here and stand next to you, I think I’ll just let the jury judge your statement on its own.”

“Objection, Your Honor.”

“Sustained. Mr. Winslow, such remarks are uncalled for.”

“I apologize, Your Honor,” Steve said. He turned back to the witness. “Now, Mr. Steele, let me ask you this. Did you examine the vital statistics of the decedent?”

“I did.”

“And how tall was he?”

“If he can remember, Your Honor,” Dirkson put in.

Judge Crandell frowned. “Yes, if he can remember, Mr. Prosecutor. But in the event that he cannot remember, I am going to suggest that he be withdrawn from the stand until the evidence can be supplied by someone who can remember. I would like to point out that we are conducting a murder trial here, not a battle of wits between attorneys. The defense attorney is attempting to make a point here, which he has every right to do, and which the jury has every right to hear, and I would like to see the matter proceed without so many legal roadblocks.”

Dirkson slowly sat down. Judge Crandell’s rebuke had come like a slap in the face. For one sick, fleeting moment, he could feel the case slipping away from him.

“Can you recall?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Steele said, grudgingly. “Robert Greely was five feet, eleven inches.”

“Five feet, eleven inches? Despite your reluctance to admit the defendant is under six feet tall, I think the jurors all saw her when she stood up and can judge for themselves, so-”

“One moment, Your Honor,” Dirkson said, struggling to his feet. “I am sorry to interrupt in light of what Your Honor just said, but-”

“No need to apologize,” Crandell said. “I think we both know the difference between technical objections and valid ones. Mr. Winslow, I would not like it if it seemed that you intended to take advantage of my statement so as to make improper questions to which the prosecutor has been made reluctant to object.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“In any event, your summation was improper. The objection will be sustained. Please rephrase the question.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Steele, you still maintain Sheila Benton stabbed Robert Greely with the knife?”

“I do.”

“To do so, wouldn’t she have to have been hanging from the ceiling?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

Steve smiled. “Very well. Let me put it to you this way. You claim Sheila Benton held the knife in the manner you indicated, and stabbed Robert Greely. Would you kindly turn to the jury and tell them, in your expert opinion, just how she was able to do it, just how she was able to plunge the knife into his back so that it would end up in the position in which it was found by the medical examiner?”

Reginald Steele turned to the jury. “It is quite simple,” he said. “The victim could have been seated at the time. Or he could have been bent over. He could have dropped something on the floor. When he bent over to pick it up, the defendant could have stabbed the knife into his back.”

Steve stared at the witness. “That is your expert opinion?”

“It is.”

“Is there any evidence whatsoever that the decedent was seated at the time he was stabbed?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Or that he was bent over?”

“No.”

“Or that he dropped anything on the floor?”

“No.”

“You are testifying then to surmises?”

“You asked for them.”

“I asked you to justify your expert opinion. Are you telling me the only way you can justify it is with unfounded surmises?”

“That is an unfair assessment of the situation. Any theory is founded on surmises. To characterize them as unfounded is indulging in semantics.”

“But the fact remains, that you do not have one shred of evidence to back up your surmises?”

“That is true.”

“The surmises upon which you base your expert opinion?”

“That is another inaccurate assessment of the situation. My expert opinion is not based on surmises.”

“What is it based on?”

“Analysis of the evidence.”

“And the evidence in this case is the fingerprints on the knife, the fingerprints that indicate that Sheila Benton held it in the position I would characterize as being like a sword?”

“That is correct.”

“And on that evidence you base your claim, your expert opinion, that Sheila Benton murdered Robert Greely?”

“I do.”

Steve strode to the defense table. He picked up a paper bag. He reached in and pulled out a rolling pin. He strode back to the witness.

“Mr. Steele, you claim you searched the defendant’s apartment for evidence.”

“I did.”

“I hand you a rolling pin, and ask you if you ever saw it before.”

“May I ask the purpose of this testimony?” Dirkson said.

“The witness testified that he inspected the defendant’s apartment. I’m certainly entitled to test his recollection as to what he found.”

The witness took the rolling pin and turned it over in his hands.

“I can’t recognize it well enough to identify it. There was a similar one in Sheila Benton’s apartment.”

“Thank you,’ Steve said. He took the rolling pin back from the witness. “Now then, you and I have both handled the rolling pin. If you were to examine this rolling pin, could you develop the fingerprints on it and tell me which were yours and which were mine?”

“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “I object on the grounds that this is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

“I’m merely cross-examining him on his qualifications as a fingerprint expert,” Steve said.

“Objection overruled.”

“Yes. I could do that,” Steele said.

“You could find my fingerprints?”

“Yes.”

“And you could find yours?”

“Yes.”

“On the rolling pin?”

“Yes.”

“And,” Steve said, “if I should produce a dead body whose head had been bashed in by that rolling pin, would you say that since your fingerprints were on it, you were guilty of the murder?”

Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Your Honor! I object! This is the most-”

Crandell’s gavel cut him off. “Objection sustained. The question is clearly improper.”

Steve Winslow, having made his point, smiled at the jury. “No further questions,” he said. He went back to the defense table and sat down.

Judge Crandell announced that it had reached the hour of noon recess. As the guard and matron converged on Sheila Benton, she was looking up at Steve with newfound respect.

“You son of a bitch,” she murmured.