“I understand so.”

“And the first police officers arrived at six fifty-nine?”

“Objection.”

“Yes, Mr. Lawrence?” Judge Simmonds asked.

“I’d like to know where Ms. Castle is going with this line of questioning, Your Honor.”

“The defense requests Your Honor’s indulgence. This will become clear in a short while.”

“Make it fast, Ms. Castle.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Deborah Harrison was last seen at about six o’clock, and her body was discovered in St. Mary’s graveyard at six forty-five. That leaves forty-five minutes during which she could have been murdered. Now according to your evidence as regards time of death, Doctor, she could have been murdered later than six-thirty, couldn’t she?”

Glendenning nodded. “Yes, she could have been.”

“In fact, death could have occurred even as late as six-forty, couldn’t it?”

“Yes. But I believe Rebecca Charters heard-”

“Please, Doctor. You should know better than that. Rebecca Charters has already admitted that what she heard could easily have been some animal or another. Now, given that nobody actually saw Owen Pierce enter St. Mary’s graveyard, and given that time of death could have occurred as late as six-forty, when Mr. Pierce was already in the Peking Moon, there is no direct evidence placing him at the exact scene of the crime at the exact time the crime was committed, is there, Doctor?”

“This is not-”

“And as no-one saw either Deborah Harrison or Owen Pierce enter the graveyard,” Shirley Castle charged on before anyone could stop her, “then it follows that Deborah could have gone somewhere else first, couldn’t she?”

“It’s not my place to speculate on such matters,” said Glendenning. “I’m here to testify on matters of medical fact.”

“Ah, yes,” said Shirley Castle. “Facts such as time of death. It’s a lot of leeway to give the definition of a fact, isn’t it, Doctor?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained. Will you get on with it, Ms. Castle?”

“I have no further questions, Your Honor,” she said, and sat down.

Very clever, thought Owen, then he turned to watch the juror who looked like a wrestler try to scratch an egg stain off his club tie.

A week later, after more legal arguments and a succession of dull, minor scientific witnesses, from the fingerprint man to the officer responsible for keeping track of the forensic exhibits, Owen watched Shirley Castle intimidate the hair expert, who ended up retreating into scientific jargon and admitting that it was virtually impossible to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that hair found on a victim’s or suspect’s clothing could be positively matched to its source.

The final prosecution witness was Dr. Tasker, biologist and DNA expert, a thin-faced, thin-haired academic of about forty, Owen guessed. He seemed to know his stuff, but there was a tentativeness about his delivery that threw Jerome Lawrence off kilter occasionally.

Owen wondered if the jury were as bored as he was by the interminable descriptions of autorads and enzyme scissors, by the testimony as to the scientific validity of polymerase chain reactions and the meaning of short tandem repeats, by the seeming hours spent describing the extreme care taken against the possibility of contamination of laboratory samples.

When Shirley Castle stood up to cross-examine the next afternoon, Tasker seemed a little in awe of her, and if Owen were not mistaken, perhaps a mite smitten, too. Maybe she realized this. Her tone, as she began, was relaxed, friendly, a little flirtatious even.

“Dr. Tasker,” she said with a smile, “I’m sure the court was most impressed yesterday with your account of DNA analysis. You would seem to have proved, without blinding us all with science, that the DNA derived from the bloodstain on Mr. Pierce’s anorak was indeed the DNA of Deborah Harrison. Is this true?”

Tasker nodded. “The DNA extracted from the dried bloodstain on Mr. Pierce’s anorak was fifty million times more likely to be hers than anyone else’s, and the DNA taken from the tissue sample discovered under the victim’s fingernail was fifty million times more likely to be Owen Pierce’s than anyone else’s. All we can say is how rare such a result is compared to the rest of the population.”

“Still,” smiled Shirley Castle. “Those are impressive odds, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes.” Tasker beamed. “I certainly wouldn’t bet against them.”

“Almost beyond a shadow of a doubt,” Shirley Castle said, “And that is, after all, what this is all about, isn’t it? However, Dr. Tasker, there are one or two points you might be able to clarify for me.”

Owen swore that Tasker almost flushed with pleasure. “Of course. It would be a pleasure.”

Shirley Castle acknowledged the compliment with a slight tilt of her head. “How much of Deborah Harrison’s blood did you find on my client’s anorak?”

“A small amount.”

“Could you please give the court some sense of how much that might be?”

Tasker smiled. “Well, not a great deal. But enough for polymerase chain reaction analysis, as I described earlier.”

“Yes, but how much? A thimble full?”

“Oh, good heavens, no, not that much.”

“As much, then, as might smear from a small cut or scratch?”

“Mmm. About that, yes.”

“A pinprick?”

“Possibly.”

“In other words, a spot of blood about the size of a pinhead. Am I right?”

“Perhaps a little bigger than-”

“Approximately the size of a pinhead?”

“I suppose so. About that, yes. But, as I said-”

“Now the court has already heard Dr. Glendenning testify that there was a small scratch beside Deborah Harrison’s left eye. Is this the kind of wound that might produce a similar amount of blood if some fabric brushed against it?”

Tasker shifted in his seat. “Well, I didn’t see the scratch so I can’t say for certain, but it was a small amount, definitely commensurate with a minor injury such as the one you describe.”

“Where did you find this blood?”

“On the accused’s anorak.”

“Where on the accused’s anorak?”

“On the left arm. Near the shoulder.”

“Now we have already heard that Deborah Harrison was five foot six inches tall and Owen Pierce is six foot two. Would this put Deborah Harrison’s left eye in the region of his upper arm?”

Tasker shrugged. “I suppose so. I couldn’t say exactly.”

“If Your Honor would allow me,” Shirley Castle addressed Judge Simmonds, “I would like the opportunity to demonstrate to the court that this is, in fact, so.”

Owen could see her holding her breath. Most judges, she had told him, hate anything that smacks overly of theatrics. She must, however, have convinced him that she was following an important line of questioning, because he granted his permission after hardly any hesitation at all.

It was a simple enough thing to do. A man and a young girl were brought in-where Shirley had found them, Owen had no idea-the girl markedly shorter than the man. They were officially measured at five foot six and six foot two, then stood side by side. The girl’s eye came level with the upper part of the man’s arm. Shirley Castle thanked them and continued.

“Was that the only blood you discovered on my client’s clothing?”

“Yes.”

Shirley Castle called for Owen’s anorak to be shown to the jury. One feature, she pointed out, was the zippered pocket at the outside top of the sleeve. “Did you, Dr. Tasker, find any of the girl’s blood on or around this zip?”

“Yes. In the vicinity.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“It was right at the end of the zip, actually.”

“Would you point to the spot on the exhibit, please?”

Tasker did so.

“The edge of the metal teeth is fairly sharp there,” Shirley Castle went on. “Does that not indicate to you that the girl may have scraped her cheek on the zip when she collided with Mr. Pierce after running backwards in the fog?”