“A small amount.”
“Could you please give the court some sense of how much that might be?”
Tasker smiled. “Well, not a great deal. But enough for polymerase chain reaction analysis, as I described earlier.”
“Yes, but how much? A thimble full?”
“Oh, good heavens, no, not that much.”
“As much, then, as might smear from a small cut or scratch?”
“Mmm. About that, yes.”
“A pinprick?”
“Possibly.”
“In other words, a spot of blood about the size of a pinhead. Am I right?”
“Perhaps a little bigger than-”
“Approximately the size of a pinhead?”
“I suppose so. About that, yes. But, as I said-”
“Now the court has already heard Dr. Glendenning testify that there was a small scratch beside Deborah Harrison’s left eye. Is this the kind of wound that might produce a similar amount of blood if some fabric brushed against it?”
Tasker shifted in his seat. “Well, I didn’t see the scratch so I can’t say for certain, but it was a small amount, definitely commensurate with a minor injury such as the one you describe.”
“Where did you find this blood?”
“On the accused’s anorak.”
“Where on the accused’s anorak?”
“On the left arm. Near the shoulder.”
“Now we have already heard that Deborah Harrison was five foot six inches tall and Owen Pierce is six foot two. Would this put Deborah Harrison’s left eye in the region of his upper arm?”
Tasker shrugged. “I suppose so. I couldn’t say exactly.”
“If Your Honor would allow me,” Shirley Castle addressed Judge Simmonds, “I would like the opportunity to demonstrate to the court that this is, in fact, so.”
Owen could see her holding her breath. Most judges, she had told him, hate anything that smacks overly of theatrics. She must, however, have convinced him that she was following an important line of questioning, because he granted his permission after hardly any hesitation at all.
It was a simple enough thing to do. A man and a young girl were brought in-where Shirley had found them, Owen had no idea-the girl markedly shorter than the man. They were officially measured at five foot six and six foot two, then stood side by side. The girl’s eye came level with the upper part of the man’s arm. Shirley Castle thanked them and continued.
“Was that the only blood you discovered on my client’s clothing?”
“Yes.”
Shirley Castle called for Owen’s anorak to be shown to the jury. One feature, she pointed out, was the zippered pocket at the outside top of the sleeve. “Did you, Dr. Tasker, find any of the girl’s blood on or around this zip?”
“Yes. In the vicinity.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“It was right at the end of the zip, actually.”
“Would you point to the spot on the exhibit, please?”
Tasker did so.
“The edge of the metal teeth is fairly sharp there,” Shirley Castle went on. “Does that not indicate to you that the girl may have scraped her cheek on the zip when she collided with Mr. Pierce after running backwards in the fog?”
“It could have got there in any number of ways.”
“But it could have got there in the way I suggest?”
“Yes, but-”
“And that was all the blood you found?”
“I’ve already said that. I-”
“Not very much, is it?”
“As I said, it was enough for PCR analysis.”
“Ah, yes: PCR, STR, DNA, ‘genetic fingerprinting.’ Magic words, these days. And what does that prove, Dr. Tasker?”
“That the blood on the defendant’s anorak is fifty million times-”
“Yes, yes. We’ve already been through all that, haven’t we? But the defense has never denied that it is Deborah Harrison’s blood. She bumped into my client and scratched herself on the zip of his anorak. Would you admit that the amount and location of the blood you found bear out that explanation?”
“I suppose so.”
“You suppose so. Did you find any traces of blood on the cuffs of the anorak?”
“No.”
“Wouldn’t you expect to if the victim were bleeding from the nose as the accused strangled her?”
“Perhaps.”
“So he might be expected to get blood on his cuff if he did indeed strangle her from behind with the satchel strap?”
“Well, it’s possible, yes, but-”
“And did you find any blood lower down his sleeve?”
“No. But she could have twisted side-”
“Thank you, Dr. Tasker. You have answered my question. Now, given the life-and-death struggle that must have taken place, it would have been difficult to avoid some close contact, wouldn’t it?”
“Presumably.”
“And did you test the rest of anorak for blood?”
“Yes. We carried out a thorough examination.”
“But you found no blood other than this infinitesimal amount high on the sleeve, at the edge of the metal teeth on the zip?”
“No.”
The infatuation seemed to be on the wane, Owen noticed. Tasker didn’t even want to look Shirley Castle in the eye now. Owen glanced over at “Minerva,” who was regarding the doctor sternly. No more would she believe the “scientific tests have proved” commercials, if, indeed, she ever had.
“Dr. Tasker, do you know where Deborah Harrison’s hairs-what we have since learned only might in fact be Deborah Harrison’s hairs-were found on Mr. Pierce’s anorak?”
“No, that’s not my-”
“Then let me tell you. They were found on the upper left arm and on the upper left arm only. In fact, all three of her hairs were found in the teeth of Mr. Pierce’s zip, by the pinpoint bloodstain. What do you have to say to that?”
“I don’t know. It’s not my field.”
“Not your field? But would you not say it’s consistent with the scenario I just outlined for you? A minor collision?”
“I have already agreed that is a possible explanation.”
“How much blood and skin did you find under the victim’s fingernail?”
“A small amount. But enough for-”
“Consistent with what might be deposited from a light scratch?”
“Yes.”
“If Deborah Harrison had been fighting for her life, wouldn’t you have expected to find more, in your professional judgment?”
“Possibly. But again, it’s not my-”
“I understand that, Dr. Tasker. But we can’t have it both ways, can we? Either she did get the opportunity to defend herself by scratching, in which case she came away with a pitiful amount of skin, or she didn’t. Which is it to be, in your opinion?”
Owen saw Lawrence on the verge of an objection, but he seemed to think better of it and sank down again.
“It could have been just a lucky strike,” said Tasker. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Very well. Would you at least agree that the presence of a small amount of Mr. Pierce’s skin under one of her fingernails could have got there during a minor collision, if she put out her hand to steady herself?”
“Yes.”
“Then would you also agree that it is possible that Deborah Harrison’s killer could have been someone other than my client?”
“Objection!”
“Overruled, Mr. Lawrence. Witness will please answer the question.”
Tasker fiddled with his tie. “Well, theoretically, yes. Of course,” he gave a nervous titter. “I mean, theoretically, anything’s possible. I wasn’t there, I can’t tell you exactly what happened. The DNA was a good match to the defendant’s, so he can’t be excluded.”
“I submit that the DNA match is irrelevant. Is your answer to my question yes?”
“I suppose so.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Shirley Castle turned to the judge and threw her hands in the air. “Your Honor,” she said, “I find myself exasperated that the prosecution’s case is based on so little and such flimsy evidence. No further questions.”