Dale’s turn: “Objection. Pure speculation. There’s no evidence that Tosok skin is flammable.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Pringle. “The jury will disregard Detective Perez’s speculation; he is not qualified as an expert on—on Tosok dermatology.”
“Besides the fact that they’d spent time alone together, Detective,” said Ziegler, “and besides the shed skin, did you have any other reason suspect Hask over the other Tosoks?”
“Yes. He had no alibi. Most of the others were in broad public view attending a guest lecture by Stephen Jay Gould at USC during the time that Dr. Calhoun was killed.”
“Thank you.” Ziegler gathered up her notes. “Your witness, Mr. Rice.”
Dale Rice squeezed out from behind the defense table and made his way to the lectern. “Detective Perez, is robbery the only human motive for committing murder?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it in fact true that robbery represents only a tiny fraction of the reasons why one human being might kill another?”
“It’s a significant reason, but—”
“But it’s a minority reason, isn’t it?” said Dale. “There are all kinds of motives for one human being to kill another, yes?”
“Well, yes.”
“You said Dr. Calhoun and Hask had spent considerable time alone together.”
“Yes.”
“Indeed, you testified that none of the other Tosoks were ever alone with Calhoun. Do you know that for a fact?”
“Well—”
“No, you don’t, do you? You don’t know that at all.”
“Hask and Calhoun had a special bond; they had traveled together to the mothership from the Kitty Hawk.”
“But you have no proof that over the last several months Calhoun didn’t spend a lot of time alone with other Tosoks, correct?”
“Well, yes. I suppose.”
“You suppose. I see. Now, about this bloody mark, which you referred to as a footprint. You said it didn’t match either of the ones Kelkad had left in cement outside Mann’s Chinese Theatre, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But those are the only known Tosok footprints you have to work with, and it’s your testimony that the mark at the crime scene didn’t match them in size or shape.”
“Well, they didn’t match exactly, but—”
“Not the same size, you said. Not the same shape.”
“Not precisely.”
“So, in fact, the bloody mark at the crime scene might not be a Tosok footprint at all.”
“Oh, come on, counselor—”
“It doesn’t match your one reference sample. The best you can say is that it’s somewhat similar to a Tosok footprint.”
“It’s very similar.”
“Just as, oh, say, Canada is very similar to the United States. Similar, sir, but not the same. Now, sir, still on the matter of the footprints at the Chinese Theatre: Harrison Ford’s footprints are there—did you compare the impressions in the cement to Mr. Ford’s actual footprints?”
“What? No.”
“Eddie Murphy’s are there, too. Did you track down Eddie Murphy and compare the shape and size of his actual feet to the footprints in the cement?”
“No.”
“Dick Van Dyke? Tom Cruise? George Lucas? Paul Newman? Did you check to see how closely their real footprints match the cement impressions?”
“No.”
“Cement expands in the heat and contracts in the cold, Mr. Perez; that’s why sidewalks sometimes buckle on hot days. Even if the mark at the crime scene is a footprint—which I doubt—the fact that it’s smaller than the marks you measured in the cement outside Mann’s Chinese Theatre doesn’t prove anything, does it?”
Ziegler’s second chair, Trina Diamond, decided that she, too, should get into the act: “Objection! Argumentative!”
“Withdrawn,” said Dale, with a courtly bow at Ms. Diamond. “Now, to the question of what happened to Hask’s shed skin. You testified he told you he threw it out.”
“That’s right.”
“In a garbage bag, put out with the campus trash.”
“That’s what he claimed.”
“Did you determine which dump the University of Southern California’s trash is taken to?”
“I did.”
“Did you visit that dump and try to find the bag containing the skin?”
“Yes.”
“But you say you did not find it.”
“I did not find it.”
“Let’s reflect on that a moment, Lieutenant. If you found the shed skin, and it was clean and free of bloodstains, your case pretty much evaporates, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all.”
“Indeed, the fact that Hask’s old skin is missing is the best thing that could have happened to you, isn’t it? You don’t have to see if the diamond-shaped objects found at the crime scene match any possible holes left by any missing scales in that old skin. And you don’t have to explain why it might be clean and free of bloodstains.”
“Objection,” said Ziegler. “Counsel is arguing his case.”
“Overruled,” said Pringle, “but tread softly, Mr. Rice.”
“On what day did you go to the dump, Detective?”
“I’d have to consult my notes.”
“During pretrial deposition, you said it was December twenty-fourth.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Do you remember what the weather was like that day?”
“Not offhand.”
“Your Honor, I would like to now enter into evidence this report from the LAX meteorological office, showing that last December twenty-fourth was exceptionally hot—seventy-five in the shade.”
“Ms. Ziegler?” asked Pringle.
“No objection.”
“So entered.”
“Seventy-five in the shade,” repeated Dale. “One can well imagine that you didn’t really feel like poking through garbage in that heat.”
“I do my job.”
“And the smell—let’s not forget about the smell. Even on a normal winter day, a garbage dump reeks, Detective. On that exceptionally hot day, the smell must have been overpowering.”
“Not as I recall.”
“Surely no one could blame you for not spending too much time rooting around, opening green garbage bag after green garbage bag, while the sun beat down upon you—especially since it was, after all, Christmas eve. No doubt you were in a hurry to get home to your family.”
“I did a thorough search.”
“You pretty much have to say that, don’t you?”
“Object—”
“Of course I have to say it. I’m under oath, and it’s the truth.”
Dale smiled. “Smooth, detective. Very smooth. No further questions.”
*20*
“The People call the Tosok named Stant.”
Stant rose from one of the six Tosok chairs in the seating gallery and strode through the gate into the well in front of Judge Pringle’s bench.
“You do solemnly swear or affirm,” said the clerk, “that the testimony you may give in the cause now pending before this Court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
“State your name, please.”
“Stant. Phonetically: S-T-A-N-T.”
“Be seated.” While Stant was being sworn in, a bailiff had removed the standard chair from the witness stand and replaced it with another Tosok one. Stant made himself comfortable, the high sides of the chair nestling in the hollows beneath where his legs joined his torso.
Linda Ziegler rose. “Stant, before we begin, I think it’s necessary to talk a bit about that oath you just swore. Do you know the difference between lying and telling the truth?”
“Of course.”
“You said ‘I do’ when the clerk said, ‘So help you God?’ ”
“Yes.”
“Do Tosoks in general believe in a higher being?”