New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,57
for that as well?”
“It would be a piece of cake for him.”
Richard turns Antonaccio over to me. It’s been an excruciating two hours, but an effective time for the prosecution. The fact that Steven is an expert in the type of explosive that killed his stepmother is pure circumstantial evidence, but the type that juries eat with a spoon.
“Captain Antonaccio, you testified that you have been teaching the use of explosives for twenty-one years? Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“During that time, how many people have you trained?”
“I don’t have an exact number.”
“That’s good, because I don’t need one. Ballpark it.”
He thinks for a while and then says, “About three hundred a year.”
“So for twenty-one years, that would be more than six thousand?”
“I guess so.”
“Are you the only person in the marines who does what you do?” I ask.
“No. Of course not.”
“How many such instructors are there? And again, you can ballpark it.”
“Maybe a hundred.”
“So if we assume there have been a hundred for the last twenty-one years, and each person trains three hundred people a year, then in that time a total of…” I turn to Kevin, who has been using a calculator, and he hands me the calculator with the total on it. “… six hundred and thirty thousand people have been trained in the use of these explosives?”
Antonaccio is not pleased with the way this is going. “I can’t verify those numbers.”
“I understand,” I say. “Now, do the army and navy blow things up as well? Do they train people in explosives?”
“Of course.”
I shake my head slightly and smile at where this is going. “I won’t go through the numbers for them, because I’m not a math major. But it sounds like you can’t walk down the street without banging into someone who is an expert in explosives.”
Richard objects and Hatchet sustains, so I switch to another area. “How would someone no longer in the service go about getting Cintron 321?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Really? For instance, you wouldn’t know if it’s available on the black market?”
“I’m told if you have enough money you can get anything,” he says.
“Including Cintron 321?” I ask.
“I would assume so.”
“And detonators?”
“Yes.”
“If people had enough money, and they could buy explosives and detonators, could they also pay someone to show them how to use it all?”
Richard objects that I am asking something outside the witness’s area of expertise, but Hatchet overrules and makes him answer. “I would think they could.”
“Captain Antonaccio, I’d like you to consider a hypothetical. Suppose you sold me Cintron 321 and a detonator to set it off. Would you be able to prepare it in such a way that all I would have to do would be to plant the explosive, and then dial a number on my cell phone to set it off? Would that be possible?”
“Yes.”
“So were you to do that for me, all I would have to know is how to dial a phone?”
“Well…”
“In my hypothetical,” I say.
“Then yes.”
“So even though, based on your previous testimony, I seem to be one of the few people in America not trained in explosives, I could blow something up with your help, just by placing a call? Would I have to include the area code?”
Richard objects and Hatchet sustains, but I couldn’t care less. My point has been made as well as I can make it. In reality, of course, it’s a debating point; the jury is still going to find Steven’s expertise in the explosive used to blow up the house to be a damning fact.
And the truth is that they should.
THE MOMENT I GET HOME, I dive into the discovery documents.
The police and forensics reports confirm what I realized during Antonaccio’s testimony this afternoon. They refer to one explosion as causing all the damage, the one that took place near the center of the house.
Yet I was there that day, and I am positive that I heard a second, much smaller blast, which seemed to come from farther back in the house. I just assumed, if I thought about it at all, that it was a secondary explosion, perhaps a gas tank or water heater, precipitated by the first one. It certainly seemed much weaker than the initial blast, and the damage had already been done.
I still think all of that may be true, but the diagram of the house shown today reminded me that Walter Timmerman’s home laboratory was back in that area of the house where the second explosion seemed to take place.
I discuss all of this with Laurie,