scanning the index for anything related to smearing gunshot residue. That was a little tough, considering all the academic verbiage we had to go through.
We took turns. One looked while the other ate, then back again.
I found a section on potential compromises to residue evidence, but nothing about intentional planting or smearing.
“You going to call him on it?” Sister Mary said.
“It’s tricky,” I said. “Most experts know enough about the material to dodge and weave. But I may give it a whirl. The jury could be impressed with my research.”
“Your research? Who walked to the library?”
“Okay, our research,” I said. “Speaking of which, have you been watching the jury?”
She nodded as she took a bite of her sub. She put a finger in the air to indicate a pause, chewed. Then said, “Number seven has been taking a lot of notes.”
Number seven was a retired pipe fitter from Baldwin Park.
“I think he’s pulling for us,” I said. “One working stiff to another.”
“And, I might add, number three seems rather smitten with you.”
That would be the elementary school teacher from Los Feliz. Single. Blond.
“I can’t turn off my natural charm,” I said. “It just seeps out.”
“I’m tempted to say, try to put a cork in it. Shouldn’t this be about the facts, and the truth?”
“My naïve little friend, every trial lawyer in the world wants to charm the jury. You need every advantage you can get. You need to build up even the little things. It’s called the art of persuasion. You remember your Greek rhetoric, don’t you?”
“I must have missed that class.”
“Ethos, pathos, and logos,” I said.
“Weren’t they the Three Musketeers?” she said.
“Character, feeling, and reason,” I said. “All three are needed for persuasion.”
“I’m not persuaded.”
“Just keep hanging with me, and you will be.”
I smiled, but as I did she looked away. I thought there was a moment of sadness in her face then. I didn’t say anything about it.
She turned back. “One more thing. I did a little Googling while I was waiting for the book. I Googled Schneuder.”
“And I know how painful that can be.”
She ignored me. “There wasn’t a whole lot on him, but I did find something interesting. An article in one of those free weeklies, out of Phoenix. He was mentioned in a story about a local writer who wants to re-open the Robert Blake case. So I Googled the writer. His name’s Troy Cameron.”
“Sounds like some beefcake from the fifties. Tab Hunter. Dash Riprock.”
“He seems to be a Phoenix gadfly. Always in the face of the local politicians. But he apparently has a true-crime book to his credit. Might be self-published.”
“Troy Cameron, huh?”
“Can you do anything with it?”
“Maybe make our boy sweat a little,” I said. “Let’s try.”
102
BACK IN COURT at two, I faced Schneuder. “Doctor, when we left off you had mentioned reliance on a text by Friedman and Lyle. That would be Forensic Detection, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Fourth edition, I believe you said.”
“That’s right.”
I went to the counsel table. Sister Mary handed me the book. I took it and placed it on the rail of the witness stand. “Showing you now a book, Dr. Schneuder. Can you read the title for us?”
“Forensic Detection.”
“What edition?”
He looked a little closer. “Fifth.”
“That would be the most up-to-date version, would it not?”
“I believe so.” His eyes flashed.
“The one you said you referred to was the fourth, wasn’t it?”
“I might have been mistaken.”
“Your whole testimony might be mistaken.”
Radavich said, “Objection.”
“Sustained. Next question, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Why don’t you find the section in the book that backs up the smear theory,” I said.
He blinked once, but I thought it was audible. Clack.
“That would take awhile,” he said. “I mean, I’d have to research it a little.”
My point was made. I took the book. “I’ll withdraw the request at this time,” I said. “Let me ask if you know Troy Cameron.”
Schneuder’s Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times. “I know him, yes.”
“He’s a writer of some kind, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Now was time to take a stab. “Isn’t it true that you’re writing a book with him?”
Schneuder said, “There’s no law against that.”
Defensive. This was great. “And that book is about the Robert Blake murder trial, isn’t it?”
“I’d rather not say…”
Better still.
“… because it’s still in the writing stage.”
“It might have been nice for the jury to know this before you started your testimony,” I said.
Objection. Sustained.
I left it at that. In cross, you don’t want to ask one question too many, giving the wit a chance to eel out of a corner. I’d caught the