New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,64
it made both of them rich. Walter was a scientist; Robinson is some kind of international financier, or trader, or something.”
Martha has no real knowledge of Robinson or his activities, and the conversation shifts to her own life in light of the death of her employers. She’s saved some money over the years, she says, and her mother left her a decent amount when she died, so finding work immediately is not necessary. She renews her offer to help us with Steven’s case in any way she can, but there’s really nothing for her to do.
“By the way, did you hear a second explosion that day at the house?”
“No, I don’t think so. But all I could really hear was myself screaming.” She grins with some embarrassment at the recollection, but I understand her reaction. It was a frightening, surreal moment.
Laurie invites Martha to stay for dinner, but I’m glad that she declines, since I need all available time to prepare for tomorrow’s witnesses. Martha offers to help out with Waggy if we need a break, but I decline that offer as well.
After dinner I receive a phone call from Richard Wallace. “Sorry to bother you at home, Andy, but the ballistics test came back and I thought you’d want to know the results.”
It’s typical of Richard that he would be giving me this heads-up. “Let me guess,” I say. “It’s the gun that shot Kennedy from the grassy knoll.”
He laughs. “Close. It’s the one that shot Timmerman from behind the Dumpster.”
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. See you in court, counselor.”
HATCHET ALLOWS the murder weapon in as evidence, as I knew he would. Once the ruling is made, Richard calls Detective Roger Manning to the stand. Manning is the officer who led yesterday’s search at Steven’s loft, and he supervised the ballistics tests that were immediately done.
Manning testifies quite simply that the police received a call in the form of a computer-masked voice, alerting them to the location of the weapon, and that when they conducted a subsequent search, there it was.
He further says that the loft was locked when they arrived, and that they had locked it when they searched it the first time. There was no sign of forced entry, according to Manning.
Richard has him describe the manner in which the ballistics tests were performed, and he introduces photographs of the bullets, allowing Manning to show the jury exactly what he is talking about.
“So there is no doubt that this is the gun that killed Walter Timmerman?” Richard asks.
“No doubt whatsoever.”
Obviously I have no ability to challenge the scientific tests, so when Richard turns Manning over to me, I focus on other areas.
“Detective, were there any fingerprints on the gun other than Steven Timmerman’s?”
“There were no fingerprints on the gun at all.”
I do a double take, as if I am surprised. “Not even Steven’s?”
“No,” he says. “The gun was wiped clean.”
“So your view is that he hid the gun in his own loft, in his own furniture, but wiped it clean so that it couldn’t be traced back to him?”
“I can’t answer that,” he says.
“Can you think of any reason why he would do that?”
“I haven’t thought about it.”
I nod agreeably. “Why don’t you spend some time thinking about it now? We’ll wait.”
Hatchet, it turns out, has no desire to wait, and he tells me to move on. So I do. “Detective, did you run a trace on the gun, in an attempt to find out its history?”
“Yes. It was not in any database.”
“So the gun’s only connection to Steven Timmerman is that it was hidden in his loft?”
“The only connection that we could find,” he says.
“Okay, for Steven to have done this, he would have had to shoot his father in downtown Paterson, drive an hour or so to his loft, and then hide the gun in the one place it could absolutely be traced back to him.”
“Your Honor, is there a question in there?” Richard asks.
“Would you like to try that as a question, Mr. Carpenter?” Hatchet asks. “That is the general procedure that we like to follow.”
I nod. “Thank you, Your Honor, I will. Detective, if Steven Timmerman was going to wipe the gun clean, and if it couldn’t otherwise be traced to him, why not just leave it at the scene, or throw it into any garbage can between Paterson and New York? Or throw it into the Passaic River? Or leave it anywhere except in his own loft?”
“I can’t