“You may,” says Gordy. “Cross-examination, Mr. Polansky.”

“For the same reasons, I will restrict my cross-examination to the testimony elicited on direct.”

Fine with me, thinks Garvey, calm and collected on the stand. With just the boilerplate of the crime scene to worry about, he reasons, there won’t be much in the way of controversy this afternoon.

Polansky goes into some detail on the pattern of wounds, prompting the detective to agree that the stab wounds came before the gunshot wound to the head; the defense wounds to the hands prove as much. The defense attorney also spends some time dealing with the empty purse, the broken bag of rice and the empty gelatin capsules on the bedroom floor. “So it would appear, would it not, sir, that whatever assailants attacked and killed Ms. Lucas probably took whatever drugs she had in that pocketbook?”

“Objection,” says Doan.

The judge agrees that the defense attorney’s question is too speculative, but the image of Vincent Booker hovers over the courtroom. Why, after all, would Frazier murder someone to take drugs that were already his? No reason unless, of course, he wanted to make the killing seem like a drug robbery.

Polansky moves forward, chronicling the drug paraphernalia scattered around the crime scene in an effort to make his point another way. He brings Garvey back to the nested clothes. The apartment was very tidy, was it not? Very neat, Garvey agrees.

“The kind of individual who would not take off her clothes and throw them on the floor but would take them off, fold them up and put them away. Would you agree?”

Oh my, thinks Garvey, you tricky bastard, you. “No,” says the detective. “I would not agree.”

Polansky leaves that seeming contradiction with the jury and moves on to state’s exhibit 2U, a photograph of the bedroom floor after the bed had been lifted. The defense attorney points out a soft pack of Newport cigarettes visible on the floor.

“And there is an ashtray?” he adds.

“Yes, sir,” says Garvey.

“Did you ever determine Ms. Lucas was a smoker?”

Aw shit, thinks Garvey. He’s going to run wild with this crap. “I can’t recall if I did or not.”

“Do you think that might have been of some significance?”

“I’m sure the question came up during the investigation,” says Garvey, trying to tiptoe around the minefield. “Obviously, the answer didn’t have any significance.”

“Did you ask her daughters or anyone close to her whether she was a smoker?”

“I don’t recall specifically doing that.”

“If she wasn’t a smoker, do you agree that finding a pack of cigarettes would have been worth looking into?”

“I would agree the cigarette pack would have been,” says Garvey, his voice clipped.

“To find out who was close to her and was a smoker,” Polansky continues. “Because you assumed someone close to her was in there because there was no forced entry, correct?”

“That is correct,” says Garvey.

“So it might be significant to find out if anyone close to her or any of the possible suspects which we’ll talk about at some later time may have been a smoker and specifically a smoker of Newports.”

“Objection,” says Doan, trying for a broken field tackle. “Is there a question?”

“Yes,” says Polansky. “Would you agree it is significant?”

“No,” says Garvey, regrouping. “Because we don’t know when the cigarette pack was placed there. It was beneath the bed. It certainly would have been something to look into, but it would have been something I wouldn’t base an investigation on.”

“Well,” says Polansky, “except for the fact, sir, wouldn’t you agree that Ms. Lucas was a very neat person and not likely to have left a pack of cigarettes on the floor for some long period of time?”

“Objection,” says Doan.

“Isn’t it much more likely the pack was left there the night of the murder?”

“Objection.”

Gordy intervenes. “Can you answer that question to a reasonable degree of certainty? Yes or no?”

From the prosecution table, Doan is staring at the detective, his head moving back and forth in a slight, barely discernible shaking motion. Take the out, he wants to say. Take the out.

“I can answer,” says Garvey.

“Overruled,” says Gordy.

“Underneath the bed there appeared to be a fair amount of debris. The overall visible areas in the house were neat and tidy, but underneath the bed I would not characterize it as being neat and tidy.”

“Was the phone under the bed?” asks Polansky.

“Yes,” says Garvey, looking at the photo. “We moved that back to take the photograph.”

“It is fair to say the phone wasn’t lying there a long period of time?”

“I don’t know when the phone was placed there,” says Garvey.

A partial save by a veteran detective. Polansky counts his winnings and moves on, asking about the human hairs that were recovered from the sheet by the lab tech and sent to the trace section. Were they ever compared to anyone?

“You can’t tell from a hair who it belongs to,” says Garvey, now on his guard.

“They can’t tell you anything more than that about hair. There is no scientific test that is at all helpful in a homicide investigation?”

“There is no way they can tell you that a particular hair can come from a particular person.”

“Can they narrow it down to a white man’s or black man’s?” asks Polansky.

Garvey grants the point: “But they can’t go too much farther.”

The detective and defense attorney circle each other for several more questions until Polansky’s point is clear: The hair recovered at the scene was never compared to anyone else’s hair. Even though such a comparison would be pointless, Polansky leaves the impression that Garvey’s investigation was less than thorough.

So far Polansky has earned his money. Garvey proves as much at the end of the cross-examination, when the defense attorney asks him about time-of-death.

“Rigor mortis had been fully set and she was coming out of rigor mortis,” says the detective. “Also, with the dried bloodstains underneath her head-the blood was thick and coagulated and the outer edges of the blood were dried into the carpet-it seemed to me she had been there probably for twenty-four hours.”

Polansky and Doan both look up. Twenty-four hours would put time of death at late afternoon the previous day.

“She had been dead for twenty-four hours?” asks Polansky.

“That’s correct,” says Garvey.

Doan looks hard at the witness, trying to make Garvey think the answer through.

“So it would have been your conclusion she had to have been killed at least at five P.M. on the twenty-first?” says Polansky.

Garvey realizes. “I take that back. No, I’m sorry. I got confused. I meant at least twelve hours.”

“I thought that’s what you meant,” says Polansky. “Thank you. No further questions.”

On redirect, Doan goes back to the recovered hairs, but that only allows Polansky, in his follow-up questions, to suggest again that the detective was not interested in pursuing all the evidence: “If you checked those hairs, you would have been able to determine whether they belonged to Mr. Frazier or Ms. Lucas or someone else. Is that not true?”

“If we did a comparison between their hairs we can tell if they were similar,” repeats Garvey wearily.

“Which you had the ability to do, but you didn’t do it,” says Polansky.

“I felt no need to do it,” says Garvey.

“That’s a pity, sir. Thank you.”

The last comment gets to Doan, who turns in his chair to look at Polansky. “Come on,” he says sarcastically. Then Doan looks up at the judge. “I have no further questions.”

“You may step down, sir,” says Gordy.

The first day ends. In the corridor five minutes later, Garvey encounters Polansky and feigns anger, cocking a fist as if ready to throw a punch. “You miserable shyster,” he says, smiling.