“Fine. Then I’ll testify.”

“The defense attorney testifying on behalf of his client? You know perfectly well I can’t permit that.”

“Then I’ll step down from the case. Ms. McCall can handle the remainder.”

The judge’s head was still shaking. “Same firm, same lawyer.”

“Then we’ll both resign. I’ll find a replacement to defend Father Beale.”

“Change lawyers in the middle of a murder trial? You can’t be serious.”

Ben was about ready to tear out his hair. Or Judge Pitcock’s. “Your honor-this witness is a liar!”

“Then you may cross-examine him and attempt to prove that. If you need more time to prepare, I’ll give it to you. But that’s the best I can do. I’ve bent over backwards to give your client a fair shake, Mr. Kincaid. But I can’t exclude pertinent witnesses just because you don’t like what they’re going to say.” He turned his head. “Mr. Canelli, call your witness.”

Ben returned to counsel table and watched as Marco Ellison took the stand. Canelli had outfitted him in a dress shirt and pants, which was a definite improvement, although the Sunday school outfit was a bizarre contrast to the punk haircut and piercings.

Canelli quickly established that Marco had been at the wedding, had left early, had wandered out into the prayer garden, and had seen Father Beale after he left the sanctuary.

“How long did he remain in the prayer garden?” Canelli asked.

“Not long at all. Barely fifteen seconds. He checked his watch, as if he had an appointment or something, then headed to the rear doors of the church.”

“The ones closest to the offices.”

“That’s right. He would’ve gotten there… at most maybe a minute after the wedding concluded.”

“Which means he was there at the time the murder occurred,” Canelli summed up. “Thank you for your testimony. I pass the witness.”

Ben didn’t waste a beat before launching his attack. “Mr. Ellison, isn’t it true you approached me not five days ago and told me you had testimony to offer the defense?”

Marco seemed undisturbed. “That’s true.”

“And isn’t it true you told me you had information that could help Father Beale?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And isn’t it also true that on the next day you offered to ‘improve’ your story? Which is why I took you off my witness list.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘improve.’ ”

“Then let me put it bluntly. You offered to lie to make your story better. So I’d put you on the stand.”

“Now wait a minute. That isn’t so.”

“Didn’t you say, ‘Hey, I know it’s all a game’?”

Marco edged forward. “Are you kidding? You were the one who said that.”

“Me?” Ben’s eyes widened. “Why would I-?”

“You told me trials were just a game and everyone knew it and tried to get me to change my testimony to help your client.”

Ben felt his pulse racing. There were few things more frustrating than hearing someone sit in that chair and say things you knew were lies-especially when you had no means of proving it.

Marco continued. “You told me something I didn’t really understand about the time of death-you wanted me to say the priest had been in the prayer garden longer than he really had. But I wouldn’t do it. So you told me you wouldn’t use me at trial.”

Ben tried to control himself. “Mr. Ellison, I’ve been practicing law for many years now. I have never encouraged a witness to say something that wasn’t true, and I’m not likely to start on a podunk liar like you.”

“Your honor!” Canelli said. “I object!”

“The objection is sustained.” Judge Pitcock’s voice was considerably colder than usual. “Restrain yourself, Mr. Kincaid, or there will be repercussions.”

Repercuss away, Ben thought silently. It was important that the jury knew how he felt about these accusations in no uncertain terms.

“Mr. Ellison, were you even at that wedding?”

“Of course I was. I said-”

“You’ve said a lot of things, and most of them were lies. I was at that wedding, and I don’t remember seeing you. Were you there?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Why?” He seemed startled by the question. “To-to see the wedding.”

“But why? Do you go to all the weddings at St. Benedict’s?”

“I… knew some of the people involved.”

“Some of the people involved? You mean some of the people getting married?”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Who was getting married? Do you even know?”

Marco was beginning to twist uncomfortably. “Of course I know. There was… that guy who works with you. I’ve seen him in the courtroom.”

“Do you know his name?”

Canelli rose. “Your honor, I object. This quiz show about the wedding is not relevant.”

Judge Pitcock didn’t wait for Ben to respond. “I think I’ll allow it.”

“Jones!” Marco said triumphantly. “That’s his name. I don’t know his first name.”

Well, no one does. “And is that why you were there? Because you know Jones? Because he sure as heck doesn’t know you, and I can call him to the stand to say so, if necessary.”

“Uh, no. I was there for… the other one. The woman.”

“Patty?”

“Yeah, Patty. That’s right.”

Ben stepped away from the podium and faced the jury. “Her name is Paula.”

Now it was Marco’s turn to be angry. “He tricked me!” He turned toward the judge. “He tricked me!”

The judge nodded. “He certainly did.”

“I knew it was Paula. I just got confused.”

“Tell us the truth, Marco,” Ben said. “You weren’t there. You don’t even know who was getting married.”

“I was there. I was there because my girlfriend wanted to be there, okay? She knew one of the bridesmaids and she wanted to see the dresses and so we went there together.”

Ben didn’t let up. “So now you’re spinning a brand-new story for the jury. You certainly are an inventive fellow, Marco. You think well on your feet.”

“It’s true!”

“Then why didn’t you mention it before?”

“I had no reason to. Who cares why I was there?” He leaned forward, his arm outstretched. “Look, you can play your little games all you want. But I was at that wedding. And I saw that priest go to his office, just when I said I did. You’re calling me a liar because you know your client is a murderer!”

“Mr. Ellison!” Judge Pitcock pounded his gavel. “You will silence yourself immediately. You’re here to answer questions, not to make speeches.” He turned toward Ben. “Do you have anything more for this witness?”

Ben thought a long moment. He was never going to get this clown to admit he was lying. More questions would just lead to more impassioned diatribes, more insisting on Father Beale’s guilt. His trial lawyer instincts told him the smartest thing would be to stop now and go out on a good moment.

“No, your honor. I have no more use for this so-called witness.”

Judge Pitcock excused Marco from the stand, and Ben huddled with his co-counsel.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Christina said. “I think he’s a lying, amoral piece of-”

“But the jury. Did they buy it?”

Christina turned her eyes back toward the fourteen faces she had been scrutinizing carefully throughout the testimony. “I just don’t know, Ben. You spun Marco around a little and made him look stupid, but I’m afraid they’ll just write that off as lawyer…”

“Games?”

“Well, yes. It’s what they expect to see on cross-ex. But it doesn’t really affect the substance of his testimony. If they believe he was there-”

“Then they’ll believe Father Beale was in his office at the time of the murder.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She glanced toward their client, who was staring straight ahead, his hands clasped, his expression fixed. “I think that’s what he’s afraid of, too.”

Marco’s testimony, Ben realized, following on the heels of the fingerprint evidence, had dealt them a serious blow. Every juror, whatever his or her disposition before, had to now be seriously contemplating the possibility that Father Beale was guilty.