“I saw no evidence of that.”

“If the assailant was hovering over her, and had her pinned against the desk, he or she would have a natural advantage, right?”

“I suppose.”

“You also testified that the victim suffered a serious blow to the head.”

“That’s true.”

“Is it possible that the blow came before the strangulation?”

Bob tilted his head. “It seems more likely that-”

“You’re not answering my question, Doctor. Is it possible that the blow to the head came first?”

“I can’t rule it out.”

“And if the blow came first, the victim, a young woman weighing one hundred twelve pounds, might well have been stunned. Even knocked unconscious.”

“There’s no way I can accurately predict that.”

“But it is possible? Someone hits you on the head-you’re stunned.”

“It’s possible.”

“At any rate, she wouldn’t be feeling her best. In top strength.”

“No.”

“And if she was somewhat incapacitated, strangling her would be a lot easier, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, though it would still require some strength.”

Christina held out her hands and clenched her fists. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good grip. Could I have done it?”

Bob smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“For that matter, my twelve-year-old nephew has a better grip than I do. He knocks the baseball out of the park every time. Could he have done it?”

Bob began to squirm. “I suppose if the victim were stunned, it’s possible…”

“The truth is, under those circumstances, almost anyone could’ve committed this crime, right?”

Bob shrugged his shoulders. “If the victim was stunned…”

“So in fact, this prosecution evidence not only doesn’t indicate Father Beale was the murderer, it doesn’t exclude much of anyone!”

Canelli rose to his feet. “Is this a question, your honor? Because it sounds a lot like closing argument.”

“I’ll withdraw it,” Christina said. “I think I’ve made my point. No more questions.”

Christina slid into her seat at the counsel table beside Ben. “How’d I do?”

“Great. Except for the part where you clenched your hands and suggested that you could’ve been the murderer. You shouldn’t give the cops ideas. You were at the wedding, after all, and they hate lawyers.”

She blanched. “You think they might accuse me?”

He patted her hand reassuringly. “Of course not. Going after a priest is one thing. But no one’s stupid enough to mess with you.”

By late afternoon, Ben knew everyone, jury included, tended to get a bit sleepy-eyed. For that reason, experienced trial lawyers typically arranged to have their least important witnesses on at that time, or to finish up early so their opponent would be cross-examining when the jury was least attentive.

That being so, Ben was surprised that an experienced trial hand like Canelli would call an expert witness this late in the day. Perhaps Canelli’s theory was that establishing an expert witness’s credentials was so boring the jury might as well be catching a few z’s while he went through this tedious but legally necessary procedure.

And thus the afternoon was graced with the wit and wisdom of Dr. Miguel Valero-prosecution hair expert.

Christina listened to his professional history with amazement. “He’s spent fourteen years studying… hair?” she whispered.

Ben nodded. “A tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”

Her forehead crinkled. “Why?”

Valero was a heavy-set man with florid, fleshy face. He wore solid black-shirt, slacks, coat, and tie. During direct, he established that he had a degree in forensic sciences and that he had devoted the majority of his professional career to the scientific examination and classification of hair, its characteristics and identifying traits. According to him, he had spent ten thousand hours over the past decade and a half studying hairs and was considered one of the leading experts in the field.

“Dr. Valero,” Canelli asked, once his credentials were finally established, “would you please explain to the jury how you became involved in this case?”

Valero cleared his throat and shifted around in the smallish wooden chair. “One of the hair and fiber crime scene techs discovered a stray hair on the victim’s body-in the wound, actually-that did not appear, on visual analysis, to have come from the victim. So I was asked to investigate.”

“And did you?”

“Of course.”

“Could you please explain how you go about your analysis?”

Valero turned slightly toward the jury. “Well, the first thing I do is get the hair under a microscope. To the naked eye, a shaft of hair is so thin it’s difficult to discern any identifying characteristics. Under the microscope, however, a shaft of hair is two inches wide. That’s a whole different ball game. At that magnification, you can start classifying and identifying.”

“What do you do first?”

“The traditional first step in hair classification is to determine which racial group the hair came from-Caucasian, Negroid, or Mongoloid. This is a relatively simple procedure. Next we establish what part of the body the hair came from-scalp, pubis, or limbs. That’s not much harder.”

“And after that?”

“Then the work gets a bit more complicated. We consider color, thickness, texture, and any other available characteristics of identification. In this case, I had a hair exemplar that was taken from the defendant after he was arrested. I was able to put it under the microscope and compare it with the hair found on the victim.”

“And did you reach a conclusion?”

“I did. The hair taken from the victim is consistent in all respects with the hair taken from Daniel Beale.”

“In other words,” Canelli summed, “the hair on the dead body came from the defendant.”

“That would be the obvious conclusion, yes.”

“Thank you. I pass the witness.”

Ben placed his hand on Christina’s shoulder. “I’ll take this one.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t you hate experts?”

“I’m looking forward to this one.”

Father Beale leaned sideways to whisper into Ben’s ear. “Am I to be convicted based upon the testimony of a hair?”

Ben gathered his CX papers. “Not if I can help it.”

“This is right out of the Gospel According to Matthew. ‘But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.’ That’s what it says. I never understood what it meant, though. Until now.”

Ben crossed to the podium and launched right in. “Dr. Valero, you weren’t involved in the initial gathering of evidence, right?”

“That’s true.”

“And you don’t know how that hair got on the victim, do you?”

“Well, the obvious way would be when the killer-”

“I didn’t ask you to speculate, Doctor. I asked if you know.”

“No, of course not.”

“Isn’t it possible she picked up the hair from the desk? I mean, she was on Father Beale’s desk.”

“I think it unlikely that-”

“How much hair does the average person shed in the course of a day?”

“Well, it’s hard to say precisely-”

“But it’s a lot, right? People shed hair constantly. There might have been dozens of his hairs on that desk.”

“That’s true. But may I remind you that the hair was found on the front of her neck, in the wound? She was lying on her back. Any hairs from the desk would’ve been found on her back.”

“All you know is that she was on her back when she died. You don’t know how many other positions she might’ve been in before she died, right?”

“The coroner said the body was not moved.”

“If Father Beale approached the body, say, to feel for a pulse, or to administer last rites, he might’ve left the hair then, right?”

“I think that unlikely. The hair was in the wound.”

“But you can’t eliminate the possibility.”

“I can say I think it unlikely in the extreme.”