Part 23 (2/2)

Now she listened as Dr. Steiner detailed the facts of the death of Gus Marchand. The Marchand children were not in court for this grisly account, but Dolly and Arnold Feldman had flown in to attend their son's trial, and Barbara was very much afraid that if there were any histrionics, Dolly would provide them. When the autopsy pictures were put up on an easel for Dr. Steiner to refer to, she heard a gasp from behind her and gritted her teeth. There was another gasp when the hammer was exhibited.

Novak finished with Dr. Steiner in record time, and Barbara stood up. ”Dr. Steiner, would such a blow require a very strong arm?”

”Not at all,” he said. ”That was a ten-pound hammer, swung with sufficient force to sever the brain stem, but it was the edge of the hammer that was the cutting agent and the immediate cause of death, not the force of the blow. It would not have required great strength.”

”From your findings on doing the autopsy, when would you say Mr. Marchand had eaten his last meal?”

”At least five hours before death,” he said promptly. ”It's quite possible that it was closer to six hours.”

”Would it be a fair a.s.sumption to say that he ate lunch around noon, and nothing more that day?”

”Exactly so.”

She nodded. ”Thank you, Doctor. No further questions.”

The next witness was Michael Bakken. He was a s.h.a.ggy-haired man in his fifties; even his eyebrows were s.h.a.ggy, growing in every possible direction. No doubt, he had shaved that morning, but already his face was shadowed as if a heavy beard might erupt any second.

Novak asked him to relate in his own words the events of the evening of June ninth. Bakken told very simply how he had been inspecting his trees with Harvey Wilberson, how they heard the smoke alarm and discovered the body.

”Did you see any traffic on Old Opal Creek Road that evening?” Novak asked.

”Yes, two cars went by. Leona Marchand's car, and then Hilde Franz's.”

”Your Honor,” Novak said, going to his table, where his a.s.sistant was setting up an easel, ”we have here an aerial map of the area, but since all that's really visible from above is the canopy of the trees, we have had an overlay transparency prepared with the significant details enhanced. Here is the road, Mr. Bakken's orchard, Opal Creek, the Marchand driveway and house, and part of the Marchand orchard.”

Barbara inspected the exhibit, nodded, and resumed her seat. She made a note of the number; she would use that same transparency later, she decided; it was better than her map.

”Now, Mr. Bakken, if you would just step down and show us where you were at different times,” Novak said.

Bakken went to the easel, where Novak handed him a short pointer. He traced the route they had taken, and it became clear that he and Wilberson had walked quite a few miles that day.

”About where were you when you saw Leona Marchand's car on the road?” Novak asked.

Bakken pointed. ”I heard it first,” he said, ”and turned to see who was driving on the old road. She came out of the driveway and headed west.”

”I have a marker here,” Novak said. ”Would you please place it at approximately where you were when you saw Mrs. Marchand's car.”

His marker was a little green arrow; Bakken put it on the transparency, east of the Marchand driveway.

”Did you look back at the road when you turned to see Mrs. Marchand's car?”

”Yes, I did.”

”Could you see this spot marked with a circle?”

”No, sir. It's around that curve, out of sight behind all those lilacs and laurels on the Marchand place.”

”All right. Then what did you do?”

”We walked a little more, and then Hilde Franz drove out.”

Novak had him place another arrow at the spot he thought they had reached when he saw Hilde's car, and asked him to continue.

”We went up to the end of the orchard, and turned back, down between the last two rows of trees. We'd come back to about here when Harvey heard the smoke alarm. We walked a few more steps and I heard it, too.” The arrow was almost directly across from the Marchand driveway, pointing toward it.

”During that time did you see anyone other than Leona Marc- hand and Hilde Franz driving on that road?”

”No, sir, we didn't.”

”Did you see anyone walking on the road?”

”No, sir.”

”At any point along that route could you see the Minick house?”

”No, sir. It's way back with a lot of trees between it and the road.”

”Could you see past the trees anywhere along that route?”

”No, sir. Not more than a couple of feet anyway.”

”All right. After you waded across the creek, did you see anyone on the driveway to the Marchand house? Or anywhere else on the property?”

”No, sir.”

After Novak had him give more details about what he had done at the house, he nodded to Barbara. Her witness.

When Barbara stood up to cross-examine, Bakken stiffened as if expecting an attack, preparing himself. She smiled at him. ”That was a good report, direct and to the point. Thank you. I have only a few questions, Mr. Bakken.” If he relaxed, it was not perceptible.

”When you ran to the house, why didn't you enter by the front door instead of continuing around to the back?”

He frowned, and his s.h.a.ggy eyebrows nearly met in the middle. ”I don't know,” he said after a moment. ”I didn't stop to think about it. I was wet, you know, wet feet and pants legs. I just didn't think of it.”

”Were you chilled from getting wet?”

”No, ma'am. It was a hot day, low eighties.”

She nodded. ”Is it the custom to go in through the back door unless it's a real visit for a meal or something like that?”

”That's how we usually do it in the country.”

”Is there a screen at the back door?”

He looked as if he suspected she might be a little crazy. ”Sure there is.”

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