Page 67 of Two Kinds of Stranger (Eddie Flynn #9)

Eddie

You have to choose your moment carefully.

Trial law can be like chess.

You know the final move, the winning move, will be made with your queen.

But before that move is made you have to cut off the other means of escape for your opponent’s king.

That winning move comes from the dozens of little moves before it.

The strategic placements of rooks, knights and even pawns.

Some of your pieces will be lost, and that’s fine. As long as you meant to sacrifice them.

And then, when it’s the perfect time, your queen slides across the board and it’s game over.

Checkmate.

Dr. Death had changed his suit from yesterday. This one was a navy pinstripe, with a pale blue shirt and black bowtie. His expression hadn’t changed, though. He still wore that demeanor of professional boredom.

I played the video from yesterday, just a minute or so, and paused it right at the moment when Dr. Death reached into the casket with tweezers, just after the lid had been removed.

‘Just to remind the jury of what you’d said yesterday, Doctor. You said that you were completely satisfied that between the casket being exhumed and it being opened in your lab, there was no possible way for anyone to interfere with its contents, correct?’

‘Correct,’ he said.

‘So this casket was sealed and showed no signs of any interference?’

‘Yes.’

‘And, furthermore, you are one hundred per cent sure that the same person murdered all three victims?’

‘Correct.’

I played the video for twenty seconds, then paused it.

‘Doctor, you found something at the foot of the casket. This video shows you removing it with tweezers. What did you find?’

‘A dead moth.’

‘A moth? Is that unusual to find in caskets?’

‘I think I may have even mentioned it at the time. Most funeral parlors keep some spare clothes around. Suits and dresses, that kind of thing, in case they have to perform a burial where the deceased person, or their family, don’t have appropriate clothing for the body.

It wouldn’t be unusual to find moths where you store old clothes. ’

‘I take it you retained this moth for evidence?’

‘Yes, that’s standard protocol. And we took photographs.’

I asked for a blown-up photograph to be shown on the screen.

‘Is this the photograph of what you found in the casket?’

‘Yes.’

I asked for a different photograph to be displayed and entered as a defense exhibit.

‘Would you agree that this is the same type of creature that you found in the casket?’ I asked.

The doc took a long look, said, ‘Yes, I think so. Same markings.’

‘For the record, you’re referring to the forewings, which are brown with black spots. The hind wings are red, black and white, again with black spots. And these markings are identical to the ones you found on the moth in the casket?’

‘Yes.’

‘There is only one problem with your testimony, Doctor. That is not a moth.’

‘It’s not?’

‘It’s a bug.’

I asked for a third picture to be displayed. This was an information-and-warning memo issued by New York City’s Department of Parks and Recreation.

‘As you can see from this memo, which includes the picture you just saw, this creature is what’s commonly known as a spotted lantern fly. It’s considered a pest.’

‘Objection, Your Honor,’ said Bernice. ‘While this is all very interesting, Dr. Sharpling is here to testify about his findings as an expert pathologist, not as a moth expert.’

‘Your Honor,’ I countered, ‘this goes to the heart of the defense.’

‘What is the relevance?’ asked the judge.

There was no way around it. I needed to blow this up in testimony from the stand.

If I explained to the judge the meaning of all of this, it would give Dr. Death the heads up.

Effectively, I’d be telling my opponent exactly what moves I was about to play on the chess board, and that couldn’t happen.

‘Your Honor, it was the witness who said that he found a moth. He offered that opinion freely. That opinion has direct bearing on his findings on the examination of the body of Stewart Yorke. If you refuse to allow this line of questioning, then I’m going to have to ask for an appeal on your ruling. ’

The judge looked at me, then Bernice.

‘I’ll allow a few more questions, but get to the point.’

‘Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Sharpling, what is the date of death of Stewart Yorke?’

‘Seventh of January 2017.’

‘And you testified that there was no possible way this casket was opened, from the exhumation until it got into your lab.’

‘Correct.’

‘As this memo from the Parks and Recreation Department records, the first recorded sighting of the spotted lantern fly in New York was in 2020. Three years after Mr. Yorke was buried.’

Bernice’s pen moved angrily across the page. Dr. Sharpling had finally seen the punch headed his way.

‘I cannot explain that.’

‘You have already confirmed, twice now, that the casket showed no signs of interference. What is the casket made from?’

‘I believe it is constructed from brushed steel.’

‘Doctor, this is a photograph of the tree beside Mr. Yorke’s grave.

Its name is Ailanthus altissima , but it’s also known as the tree of heaven.

It is the preferred food source of the spotted lantern fly.

You can see from this photo there is a large colony of spotted lantern flies on the bark of this tree. ’

The photo I brought up on screen, and entered into evidence, spoke for itself.

‘Are you suggesting this fly burrowed underground and into the casket? Because the casket was sealed with no damage, Mr. Flynn. I don’t think that’s possible,’ said Dr. Death, trying to head me off.

He called it wrong.

‘No, Doctor, I’m not suggesting that. Like you said, it’s impossible.

What I am suggesting is that on the seventh of November, while my client was in police custody, someone dug up Stewart Yorke’s body, and injected his liver with traces of tetrahydrozoline to make it appear as if he had been poisoned.

While the casket was open, this fly got inside. ’

Silence.

Dr. Death looked at Bernice, and I could see his desire to push back. This was the last time he would appear in a courtroom, and he was desperate not to let this one be a loser.

‘I find it hard to imagine that someone could dig up a body in a cemetery without anyone noticing,’ said the doctor.

‘I agree,’ I said, and watched Doc Sharpling’s eyes widen.

‘On the seventh of November last year, a nightwatchman in the cemetery was brutally murdered. Some empty beer cans were found scattered around his body and the NYPD took fingerprints and DNA from those cans. They arrested the three minors who were known to police through their DNA and fingerprints, but all three had solid alibis and did not face charges. It is more likely that the individual who murdered the nightwatchman attempted to frame some innocent kids for this murder, just as he was attempting to frame my client for murder. Do you have any opinion on that, Dr. Sharpling?’

He said nothing. The last time he’d shot out a defense answer, it had come back to bite him. He was taking his time.

‘I’m just here to offer my opinion on the cause of death.’

‘Dr. Sharpling, the casket is plate steel. The bug you found in the casket was not present in this part of the country for many years after Mr. Yorke’s death. The only possible way that bug got into the casket is if someone dug it up and opened it. Isn’t that right?’

Dr. Death sighed, bit his lip, then nodded and said, ‘Yes.’

‘You already testified that tetrahydrozoline could be present in the body of Stewart Yorke if someone simply injected his liver with this substance, correct?’

‘Correct.’

‘Is it possible, Dr. Sharpling, that if you hadn’t found tetrahydrozoline in Stewart Yorke’s liver, that his death was accurately recorded the first time around as a natural cause of cardiac arrest?’

Dr. Death’s skin grew paler as he said, ‘Yes, that’s possible and, now I am satisfied that the body could have been interfered with by a person unknown, I don’t believe I can continue to stand by my initial findings.’

The crowd in the gallery grew noisy. They could tell the DA’s case was falling apart spectacularly.

‘One final question: what date do you estimate to be the date of death for James Parker and Harriet Rothschild?’

‘That’s in my report. November second.’

‘Your Honor,’ I said, ‘I would like to call Detective Sacks to the stand.’

Bill Sacks’s Crocs squeaked across the floor of the courtroom as he made his way to the witness stand, the lanyards round his neck jangling softly. The clerk reminded him he was still under oath.

He smiled at me. I looked at Elly.

She sat up straighter today, staring right at Sacks.

She wore a little make-up, and had had her hair styled in a salon round the corner before she came to court, while I was at the Starbucks headquarters with a subpoena.

Being around my friends and family last night had helped Elly, I thought.

She didn’t feel alone. She felt the weight of the whole team behind her.

I’d told her about my phone call with the head of human resources in Starbucks while she was at my place, and for the first time since I’d met her I saw hope in her eyes.

And something else.

Anger.

‘Your Honor, at this time I would like to introduce evidence which came into the possession of the defense this morning. A security footage recording from a Starbucks from November second last year . . . ’

As I spoke, I watched Detective Sacks’s expression change.

The smile faded. The color drained from his rosy cheeks and his hands gripped the chair handles. His knuckles were pale with the effort.