The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [273]
“So you say, Detective, so you say. And I guess we have to accept your word on it—for the moment. So—the gun was fired about three years ago, give or take a few months. And one of the bullets was found embedded in the wagon.” Mr. Darrow’s face wrinkled up again. “I don’t mean to sound dense, Detective, but what about that? The matching of the bullet to the gun, I mean? How many cases have been solved using those techniques?”
“Well,” Lucius answered, a bit more uneasily, “gunsmiths having been matching bullets to gun barrels for decades—”
“So it’s an exact science, then?”
“That would depend on what you mean by exact.”
“I mean exact, Detective,” Mr. Darrow said, walking back over to Lucius. “Containing no margin for error.”
Lucius shifted in his seat, and then pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. “There aren’t many sciences that contain no margin for error.”
“I see,” Mr. Darrow said. “So it isn’t exact. And what about that bullet? Any sign that it was actually involved in the murders?”
“There were traces of blood on it.”
“Any idea what kind of blood?”
Lucius started to sweat even more visibly and wiped his head again. “There—aren’t any tests, as yet, that can distinguish one type of blood from another.”
“Oh.” Doing his level best to look like he was honestly wrestling with the problem, Mr. Darrow moved back to the jury box. “So what you are, in sum, saying, is that we have a gun that was fired about three years ago—by whom we certainly cannot say—and that was found at the bottom of a well behind the Hatches’ house. It may or may not have been the gun that fired a bullet that was found in the Hatches’ wagon—a bullet that may or may not have been involved in the murders. Is that about it, Detective?”
“I wouldn’t characterize it that way,” Lucius said. “The odds are—”
“The odds are high enough to leave room for reasonable doubt, Detective. At least in my mind. But let’s try a question that maybe you can answer a little more precisely: In how many trials have you offered expert ballistic testimony?”
Lucius was obviously taken completely off guard. “How many?”
“It’s a simple question, Detective.”
Glancing down and going at his forehead one more time with the handkerchief, Lucius quietly said, “This is the first.”
“The first?” Mr. Darrow answered, glancing quickly to the witness box, then back at the jury. “You’re jumping into some pretty deep water for your first time swimming, don’t you think?”
Trying to put up a fight, Lucius answered,. “I’ve been studying ballistics for many years—”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt It’s just that nobody’s thought to ask you for your opinion yet I wonder why.” Finally taking his eyes from the jurors, Mr. Darrow loped back over to his table. “That’s all, sir.”
Lucius started to get up, but Mr. Darrow raised a hand. “Oh—there is one more thing, Detective Sergeant. You stated during your opening remarks that you’re a member of the New York City Police Department. Would you mind my asking—what’s your current assignment?”
Looking very startled, Lucius leaned back in the witness chair and tried to stall: “My current assignment? I was asked by the assistant district attorney to analyze—”
“I mean for your department,” Mr. Darrow said.
Lucius took a deep breath. “My current assignment is unconnected to this case, and it would be inappropriate—”
“Isn’t it true, Detective,” Mr. Darrow interrupted, his voice rolling in a righteous way, “that you were assigned several weeks ago to investigate Dr. Laszlo Kreizler—specifically, his role in the suicide of one of the children in his care at the Kreizler Institute in New York City?”
The crowd couldn’t keep quiet at that, and as they started to chatter in surprise Mr. Picton bolted out of his chair. “Objection! Your Honor, the state objects most strenuously! What possible bearing can the detective sergeant’s current assignment have