The Pact Read online

  "Could these bruises have occurred during ... " He coughed delicately and smiled at the jury. "A particularly ardent point in intercourse?"

  "They could have," the medical examiner said, straight-faced.

  "And the skin beneath the fingernails, Doctor. Is it possible that you can get someone's skin cells beneath your fingernails by gently scratching his back?"

  "Yes."

  "How about by raking his shoulder in a frenzy of passion? Could that produce skin beneath your fingernails?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And what if you caressed someone's cheek and jaw?"

  "It's possible."

  "So you're telling me that there are a number of different ways that Emily could have Chris's skin under her fingernails, and that many of those different ways could be consistent with nonviolent, passionate lovemaking. Is that right?"

  "Yes."

  "You can't tell me with any certainty that there was any violence that night between Emily and Chris, can you?"

  "No, not precisely. But there was a bullet wound in the victim's head."

  "Ah, yes," Jordan said. "We all saw what Ms. Delaney did with Chris. But a lot of things could have happened that night, right? Let's work through a couple other scenarios to see how else that wound might have been inflicted." He turned suddenly toward his client. "Chris? If you don't mind ... again?"

  Bewildered, Chris stood up and walked toward Jordan, to almost exactly the same spot where the prosecutor had brought him before. Then Jordan walked over to the exhibit table and picked up the gun. "All right if I use this?" Without waiting to see if Barrie had agreed, he casually carried the pistol back toward Chris. "Now." With a grin at the jury, he took Chris's hands and settled them on his waist. "You're going to have to use your imaginations here, because I don't make quite as convincing a female as Ms. Delaney." He nodded to Chris, whose neck turned crimson as he loosely embraced Jordan.

  There was a murmur in the gallery as Jordan pressed the gun up against his own head. He smiled, knowing he'd just presented the jury with an even more shocking mental image than the one of Chris with Barrie Delaney. "What if, Doctor, Emily was holding the gun like this, like someone would normally hold a gun, but since she had no experience with guns she sort of twisted the barrel toward her?" Leaning back slightly in Chris's arms, Jordan directed the gun at his temple in the same uncomfortable angle the medical examiner had posited earlier. "If the gun was up against her head like this, would the bullet trajectory have been consistent with what you found in the autopsy?"

  "Yes, I believe so."

  "Doctor, what if she was holding the gun like this, to the side of her temple like all those other ten percent of pistol suicides you've seen, but then her hand was shaking so badly that it jumped as she pulled the trigger? Is it possible the trajectory might change?"

  "It is possible."

  "And what if Emily was so uncomfortable with the very idea of holding a gun that she picked it up like this?" He wrapped both hands around the barrel of the gun and held it up to his head, almost parallel against his temple, thumbs dangling at the trigger. "If she'd held the gun like this and used her thumb to pull the trigger, could the bullet match that odd trajectory?"

  "Yes."

  "So you are saying, Doctor, that there are a variety of possibilities that might have accounted for the strange path of that bullet."

  "I suppose so."

  "And Doctor Lumbano," Jordan finished, turning in his client's embrace, "in any of these alternative scenarios, have you seen Christopher Harte's hands on the trigger of that gun?"

  "No."

  Jordan broke away from Chris and set the gun back on the exhibit table, his fingers resting on the metal for a moment. "Thank you," he said.

  THE BLEACHED BLONDE ON THE WITNESS STAND looked longingly at the jar of almonds in front of the judge, and raised her hand. Startled, Barrie looked up from her notes. "Um ... yes?"

  "I was wondering, if he can have those, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I could just have a little piece of gum? I mean, I know what you said and all, but since a cigarette's out of the question, and I'm a little freaked about this whole thing ... ." She blinked owlishly at the prosecutor. "So?"

  To everyone's surprise, Judge Puckett laughed. "Just maybe, Ms. DiBonnalo," he said, "I'll take you up on that cigarette." He signaled a bailiff to carry the jar of nuts toward the witness. "I'm afraid that chewing gum might make your testimony hard to understand. But I'm willing to share."

  The woman relaxed a little, until she realized there was nothing to crack the nuts with. But by that time, Barrie was ready to question her witness. "Could you state your name, address, and occupation for the record?"

  "Donna DiBonnalo," she said loudly into the microphone. "Four-fifty-six Rosewood Way, Bainbridge. And I work at the Gold Rush."

  "What sort of establishment is the Gold Rush?"

  "A jewelry store," Donna said.

  "Did you ever come in contact with Emily Gold?"

  "Yes, she came into the store to buy a birthday present for her boyfriend. A watch, she wanted to have it engraved."

  "I see. What did she want engraved on it?"

  "The name Chris," Donna said, her eyes sliding toward the defense table.

  "And how much did it cost?"

  "Five hundred dollars."

  "Wow," Barrie said. "Five hundred dollars? That's a lot of money for a seventeen-year-old."

  "It's a lot of money for anyone. But she said she was really excited about it."

  "Hearsay," Jordan objected.

  "Sustained."

  "Did she tell you why she was making the purchase?" Barrie asked.

  Donna nodded. "She said that the watch was for her boyfriend's eighteenth birthday."

  "Did she leave any specific instructions?"

  "Yes. They were written on the receipt. If we had to call to tell her anything about the watch--like when it came in--we were only supposed to ask for Emily and say nothing about the jewelry store or the watch."

  "Did she tell you why she wanted to keep it a secret?"

  "She said it was going to be a surprise."

  "Again," Jordan called. "Hearsay."

  The judge nodded. "Approach the bench."

  Jordan and Barrie stood shoulder to shoulder, jockeying for position. "Either you find another way to get that in," Puckett told the prosecutor, "or it's stricken from the record."

  Barrie nodded and turned back to her witness as Jordan sat down again. "Let me rephrase that," she said. "What exactly did those instructions say?"

  Donna furrowed her brow, thinking. "'Call to the house--ask for Emily. This is private. Don't say what it's about.'"

  "Did Emily tell you when her boyfriend's birthday was?"

  "Yeah, because we had to get it done in time. It came special-ordered from London. We had to have it finished by November."

  "Any specific date?"

  "Well, the watch was supposed to be engraved with the birthday, too. November twenty-fourth. She wanted me to have it in the store by November seventeenth, to give us a week just in case anything went wrong, because she planned to give it to him on the twenty-fourth."

  Barrie leaned against the jury box. "Were you expecting Emily to pick up that watch on November seventeenth?"

  "Oh, yeah."

  "Did she?"

  "No."

  "Did you find out why not?"

  Donna DiBonnalo nodded gravely. "She died the week before."

  JORDAN SAT AT THE DEFENSE TABLE for a minute, after the witness had been turned over to his cross-examination. There wasn't a hell of a lot he was going to get out of her. He stood up slowly, knees creaking. "Ms. DiBonnalo," he said pleasantly. "When did Emily Gold place her order?"

  "On August twenty-fifth."

  "And was that the first time you saw her?"

  "No. She'd come in to look around about a week before."

  "Did she pay you when she placed the order?"

  "Yes, in full."