“No, sir.”
“Were the organs in a condition consistent with a man of Mr. Neeley’s age?”
“They were.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Now, could you come to the point and tell us the cause of death?”
Dr. Hamilton looked up from the written autopsy report.
“It was the finding of the post-mortem examination that death was caused by the presence of a lead fragment having worked its way into contact with the frontal lobe of the brain during a period of time, that lead fragment being the result of a previous gunshot wound.”
There were several moments of silence when the doctor finished speaking. Varick nodded slowly, allowing the words to sink into the jury; when he spoke his voice was respectful, almost reverent.
“Thank you, Doctor.” He turned to Ross, his whole attitude challenging the defense to fault the testimony.
Steve Sadler smiled at Ross. “Go get him, boss!”
Ross squeezed Steve’s shoulder as he rose and faced the bench.
“No questions.”
Judge Waxler’s eyebrows went up. The startled expression on the faces of both Gorman and Varick were nothing compared to the look of utter incredulity on Steve Sadler’s face. He bent over, whispering furiously as Ross sat down.
“Damn it, Hank! You could have created tons of doubt in the minds of the jury! How often have they done an autopsy on a man eight years after he was shot? What happened to all those lovely questions we formulated yesterday before you got that hot flash about Grace Melisi’s husband?”
“I changed my mind,” Ross said in a low voice, his eyes crinkled in a slight smile. “It would have been a smoke screen, and while I’ve got nothing against smoke screens, it’s not what we need as a weapon right now.”
“Then what do we need?”
Ross glanced at his wristwatch.
“To hear from Mike Gunnerson,” he said shortly, and returned his attention to the trial. During their whispered conversation a stocky, plainly dressed man had taken the stand and been sworn in. Varick stood before him.
“Please state your name, shield number, and assignment.”
“I am Detective Martin Schwab, shield number 879, assigned to the twentieth precinct here in Manhattan.”
“On July 25, 1964, were you working for the police department of New York?”
“I was.”
“What was your assignment then?”
“I was a uniformed police officer assigned to radio motor patrol number 2641, assigned to Sector Adam.”
“On that date were you involved in the arrest of the defendant?”
“I was the arresting officer.”
“Will you describe the circumstances surrounding the arrest?”
“We — my partner and I — were called on the car radio and told to investigate an alleged shooting at apartment six, 453 West Sixtieth Street. We proceeded there. When we arrived a man, the defendant, was running from the lobby of the building. We apprehended him and returned him to the sixth floor where my partner held him while I investigated. The door of apartment six was open. Inside I found a man on the bedroom floor suffering from a gunshot wound to the face. My partner went downstairs to call an ambulance on the radio while I stayed and did what I could to stop the bleeding.”
“This wounded man was Raymond Neeley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did Mr. Neeley make any statement in your presence?”
“No, sir. He was unconscious.”
“Did you find the weapon used in the shooting?”
“Yes, sir. It was a twenty-two caliber S&W target pistol.”
“Did you find any other gun on the premises?”
“No, sir.”
“How thoroughly did you search for a second weapon?”
“The suspect told us the other man had pulled a gun on him and he had fired in self-defense, so we searched very thoroughly, even before the ambulance came. And then, after we had booked the defendant, we returned and did an even more thorough search, because the defendant also told us of a suitcase—”
“We’ve already heard the testimony of the defendant,” Varick said, interrupting. “You never found the second gun?”
“No, sir.”
“Nor the suitcase?”
“No, sir.”
“While you and the police officer with you were seeing that the wounded man was sent off in the ambulance, and while you were booking the suspect at the precinct, was it possible that someone might have entered the apartment and removed this alleged suitcase, say, or the alleged revolver?”
“No, sir. I remained in the apartment with the suspect while my partner helped the ambulance attendants with the wounded man. Then we sealed the apartment when we removed the suspect to book him. When we returned to continue our search, the seals were intact.”
“These were standard police-department seals used for this purpose all the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, regarding this gun, this twenty-two caliber weapon, we have heard testimony from the trial transcript here today that indicated the defendant claimed he was in the apartment with a woman and that this woman gave him the gun and told him to fire it in self-defense. Did you find any woman on the premises?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you find any sign that a woman had been there and had vacated the premises within a short period of time of the shooting?”
“No, sir. We found no evidence that a woman had been there at all.”
“I see. Now,” Varick said, “was this gun this unknown woman supposedly handed the defendant ever identified as to ownership? This twenty-two caliber pistol that was used to shoot Raymond Neeley?” He glanced over toward the defense table and said, “If the defense objects to this witness presenting the facts, I can easily have Mr. Paretta return and read them from the transcript.”
Ross tipped his head politely. “No objection.”
Detective Schwab said, “The twenty-two caliber weapon used in the shooting was identified as a weapon belonging to the suspect himself.”
Varick smiled, a triumphant smile.
“No more questions. Your witness for cross-examination, Counselor.”
Ross started to rise and then paused at a slight disturbance at the rear door of the courtroom. Sharon McCloud was hurrying down the aisle. She leaned over to speak to Ross in a low tone.
“Mike Gunnerson said you’re just plain lucky...”
She handed him a sealed envelope. Ross tore it open and read the brief note inside with a smile. Judge Waxler tapped his gavel to get Ross’s attention, and then tapped it a bit harder. Ross looked up.
“Mr. Ross,” Judge Waxler said with a bit of sympathy — as far as he could see, the defense was in trouble — “if the defense would care for a recess until tomorrow morning, it is now after four o’clock and the court is prepared to entertain such a request.”
Ross came to his feet. “Thank you, Your Honor, but the defense is prepared to continue at this time.”
“Very well, if that is your wish. You may cross-examine then.”
“No questions, Detective Schwab. You may stand down.”
Steve Sadler stared at him with an amazement approaching shock.
“Hank, that’s twice! What is this? You could have taken him apart! The apartment was empty when they came and the door was open; anyone could have been in there! And what kind of a search do you think they could have done waiting for the ambulance, and trying to keep Neeley from bleeding to death? A very thorough search, he said! You could have—”
Hank Ross grinned. “Patience, Steve. Patience.”
Gorman and Varick, equally startled, were in conference, but it did not last long. Judge Waxler’s gavel tapped again.