Gradually, he forced himself to put the distractions aside. He reminded himself that this hearing was merely Act I of what looked more and more like it would become a three-act play- with the preliminary hearing in adult court next and then the trial to follow. On the stand next to the judge was an ex-cop private investigator friend of Wes Farrell's named Jane Huron, whom they were paying $350 and who was to have read Andrew's "Perfect Killer" story and picked it apart for criminal veracity. On the surface, Hardy thought, this was a simple and fairly straightforward task, especially since they'd supplied her with many of the objections Andrew himself had voiced for them.
She'd obviously been on the stand for a good while, and now Wu was apparently in the process of wrapping it all up. "So, Ms. Huron, based on your training and experience, eleven years as a police officer and seven as a private investigator, how would you characterize the criminal sophistication of the author of this story?"
Huron looked the part: short-cropped, dark hair, a dark blue pants suit. She was a hefty, solid woman with a no-nonsense face. Answering, she turned directly to the judge, as Hardy and Wu had suggested. They'd also told her not to mince her words. "Not at all sophisticated, in terms of the real world," she said.
"What specifically do you mean by that?"
"He showed no knowledge of how a real police investigation would treat such a crime."
"Could you give us one example, please?"
"Yes. His alibi was extremely naive."
"In what way?"
"Well, primarily because it wouldn't in any way have eliminated him from suspicion. The times of the deaths would have been consistent with his presence at the scene when they occurred, regardless of what he did afterward. It would have just been stupid. And then going back to the scene, and pretending to discover the bodies. Not even the most remotely sophisticated criminal would consider doing something like that."
"Anything else?"
Again, Huron looked up at the judge, as though for approval, and he nodded down at her. "Almost everything else, I would say. The author demonstrated little understanding of forensics, ballistics testing, gunshot residue, hair and fiber samples, any of the normal details that crime scene investigators routinely analyze as a matter of course. The kind of precautions outlined in the story- the surgical gloves and fingerprint worries and so on- are what you'd expect to get from watching television and movies. Not from any real-life crime experience."
This was all Hardy and Wu could have hoped for, and Huron had pulled it off perfectly. Wu inclined her head, thanked her, and said she had no further questions.
"Mr. Brandt?" Johnson intoned from the bench.
And Brandt was immediately on his feet, approaching the witness with a light in his eye and a spring in his step. Hardy thought this wasn't a good sign, but didn't see where he could go. He was about to find out, and it wasn't a long journey. "Ms. Huron, you've worked in law enforcement for nearly twenty years, isn't that true?"
"Yes it is."
"And you've had a great deal of experience with firearms and forensics, have you not?"
"Yes."
"Ballistics studies, matching samples of bullet slugs and so on?"
"Yes."
"I see. Let me ask you this, then. Prior to reading this story, did you know that guns made in Israel were fingerprinted ballistically before they were sold, and that this information was embedded with the registration number of the weapon, so that any bullet fired from that gun anywhere in the world could be matched to its owner?"
Huron smiled as though in appreciation of a bit of fascinating trivia. "No," she said, "to tell you the truth, I didn't know that. That's an interesting fact."
"Yes, it is," Brandt said, "and you, a sophisticated criminologist, didn't know it." He half-turned back to Wu and Hardy, came back to the judge, nodded genially. "I have no further questions."
The suddenness of it clearly surprised Wu, but Hardy thought it was a very effective jab, trumping Huron's own undeniable sophistication with an even better example of Andrew's. But he didn't want to risk causing damage to Wu's rhythm or confidence, so he just leaned back, crossed his arms, nodded as though he were enjoying himself.
Wu stood and called her next witness, this one someone she had known from college- Padraig Harrington, Ph.D., a teacher at San Francisco State University. But just as Bailiff Cottrell got to the back door and opened it to call the witness, Brandt stood again. "Your honor, sidebar?"
Judge Johnson adjusted his glasses, raised his voice to the back of the room, saying, "One minute, please, Dr. Harrington" and motioned counsel up to the bench. When they were all in front of him, Johnson said, "Yes, Mr. Brandt?"
"Your honor, before we begin with this witness, I'd like to ask Ms. Wu what it is that Dr. Harrington is a professor of?"
"I don't see the relevance…," Wu began.
Johnson cut her off. "I do. Answer the question."
"English Literature."
"English Literature?" Brandt raised his eyebrows, clearly a rehearsed gesture. "Your honor, with the court's permission, I'd like to ask Ms. Wu for the general import and relevance of Dr. Harrington's expected testimony."
"You'll see when I ask him," Wu retorted.
"Not good enough," Johnson said. "It's a legitimate question. Answer it." Johnson was being just nails on the bench and Hardy longed to raise some objection to protect Wu, but knew that anything he said now would only alienate the judge further, and hurt their client's chances. He'd have to stand and take it.
Wu swallowed, blinked, looked quickly to Hardy, then threw a glance at Brandt. "He'll be talking about the nature of fiction and the degrees of similarity between an author and a character that the author has created. In other words, is a person capable of making up things that he's incapable of actually doing?"
Brandt fairly dripped derision. "Your honor, is there some science here that I'm missing? The petitioner is willing to stipulate that fiction authors make things up. If that's the gist of Dr. Harrington's testimony…"
Wu interrupted. "He's going to address specific elements in Mr. Bartlett's story, your honor, as compared to elements in the actual crime."
"And this will demonstrate what, exactly?" the judge asked.
"That even the degree of sophistication exhibited by the character in the story, minimal though it is, as my last witness demonstrated…"
Brandt corrected her. "… tried to demonstrate."
"… as my last witness demonstrated," Wu repeated, "even that small degree of sophistication is less than that possessed by Mr. Bartlett."
"Or more," Brandt said.
Her stage whisper getting out of hand, Wu shot the question at Brandt. "What do you mean, more?"
He turned directly to her. "I'm willing to accept it's different. The author's either more sophisticated or less. There's no way to tell from what he wrote."
"Both of you, listen to me." Johnson was a few inches out of his chair, leaning over the front of his bench. "You'll both address your remarks to the court and the court only. I don't want anything personal marring these proceedings. As to the point at issue, I agree with Mr. Brandt. Ms. Wu, given petitioner's stipulation that fiction authors make things up, it's this court's ruling that we don't need to hear from this witness."
"Thank you, your honor." Brandt immediately bowed and turned back toward his seat.
Wu stood in shock. "But…"