Part 25 (1/2)

”I did not conduct an examination.”

”Pardon me?” I ask, betraying my surprise. Oh, the shock of it all.

”I did not conduct an examination on this particular dog.”

”Were you prevented from doing so?”

”No, it wasn't necessary for what I was called upon to do.”

”I see. So you merely went over his medical records, X-rays, that kind of thing?”

”No, I did not have access to them,” she says.

”You were denied that access?”

”No, the records were not necessary for my work.”

”So the health of a dog is not relevant in determining if that dog could swim four miles in the ocean in a major storm?”

”I was operating under the a.s.sumption that he was healthy.”

”So if he were not healthy, that might change your opinion?” I ask.

”It might, depending on what was wrong with him.”

”If I told you he had a badly broken leg that was repaired by inserting a metal plate and that he was taking a drug called Rimadyl for the resulting arthritic pain, would that be significant to you?” I'm shading the truth a little here. Reggie is on that medication now; he was not on it then.

But Hawpe does not object, and Dr. Coakley answers, ”I would have to examine the records.”

”You mean the records that weren't necessary for your work?”

Hawpe objects that I'm being argumentative, and Judge Gordon sustains.

I move on. ”Do you have any personal knowledge of a dog swimming four miles in the ocean during a substantial storm?”

”No, I don't,” she says, trying to control her annoyance. ”But I believe it is within their capability, depending on the circ.u.mstances.”

”What is the furthest you have personally seen a dog swim in the ocean in the midst of this kind of storm?”

”I have never seen it personally, but it would not be necessary for me to do so.”

”Could a dog do it while carrying a radar antenna on his back?” I ask.

”I don't know what you mean.”

”Well, it was nighttime, and even though there may be lights in the specially constructed swimming pool that you use for your therapy, there aren't any in the Atlantic Ocean. How would Reggie have known where to swim?”

I think I see a quick flash of panic in Dr. Coakley's eyes. She should just deflect the question as not something covered in her work, but she doesn't. ”Perhaps there was enough moonlight.”

”Dr. Coakley, I don't know how much time you spend outside, but have you ever seen a major summer storm? Are you aware that there are a lot of clouds involved?”

Judge Gordon admonishes me for being argumentative even before Hawpe has a chance to object. I let Dr. Coakley off the stand, a little less arrogant than when she took it.

The day's last witness is Craig Langel, the man who reported seeing a stray dog matching Reggie's description very late on the night of the murder.

In the hands of Hawpe on direct examination, he comes across as a decent citizen who is telling the truth about what he saw that night. Perhaps trying to make up for the Dr. Coakley debacle, Hawpe nurtures the witness, taking almost an hour to bring out what he could have gotten in ten minutes.

The jury has to be bored and wanting to adjourn for the day, so I don't want to prolong matters. ”Mr. Langel, you've testified that you saw a dog, possibly a golden retriever, running stray near the harbor that night?”

”That's correct.”

”He appeared very wet?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Is it unusual for a stray dog to get wet in the middle of a rainstorm?”

”I wouldn't think so, sir.”

”Thank you. No further questions.”

KEVIN CALLS WITH the news that they got plenty of latent fingerprints at the cabin. the news that they got plenty of latent fingerprints at the cabin.

Our expert, George Feder, will eliminate those that turn out to match Richard or Karen, and hopefully that will leave many of Stacy's prints. I'll then give one of those to Pete, who will run it through the system. Unfortunately, not nearly everyone in the country has their fingerprints in the national database, so there's a pretty good chance we won't get a match.

Even so, I'm putting a lot of stock in this process, because tomorrow Hawpe is going to conclude his case, and I haven't made a serious dent in it. This looks like a cla.s.sic domestic murder-suicide, and when the jury starts to deliberate, that's what they're going to see.

I can talk all I want about campene and a golden retriever who survived, but it won't cut to what the jury will see as the core truth. They will see that Richard and Stacy were out there alone, she wound up dead in the water, and he wound up unconscious from an overdose.

It's unfortunately an easy call, no matter what the wise-a.s.s defense attorney says.

Kevin says that Karen has something else to tell me, and he puts her on the phone so that she can do so directly. ”Andy, I think someone has been in the cabin.”

”When?”

”I don't know, sometime since I was there last.”

Karen has told me that she has not been to the cabin since the murder, so that doesn't narrow it down much. But she's also said that no one had a key.

”Was there any sign of forced entry?” I ask. ”A broken lock or window?”

”No,” she says, ”but I'm sure there were things missing. Mostly some of Stacy's stuff.”

This is potentially very interesting. If Stacy represented a danger to someone, it could have been because of something in her possession. After her death, they may well have gone looking for it in the cabin, a natural hiding place.

Unfortunately, although it's interesting, all I can do is put it in the bag with the other information I don't know what to do with. At this point the bag is bursting at the seams.

Kevin comes over for an evening strategy session. We prepare for Hawpe's final witnesses, but they are not of great consequence. All he'll be doing is smoothing out the rough spots; he's already made his point.