A Matter of Conviction

Hank would use the knives well, playing on the natural fear of blades and coupling this with the direct testimony of the killers themselves, whom he intended to call to the witness chair last. He knew, of course, that the boys could not be forced to testify against themselves, and that if they refused to take the stand, Judge Samalson would immediately inform the jury that this was in no way to be construed as an admission of guilt. But he felt certain that Aposto would be allowed to testify, if only to establish his low mentality. And the jury’s unconscious adverse reaction to anyone who refused to take the stand would be doubled against Reardon and Di Pace if one boy were allowed to speak and the others restrained. Besides, with a plea of self-defense the one chance the boys had, it did not seem likely that their attorneys would advise them against testifying. So he felt fairly certain he could get them into the witness chair, and once there he would pry from their own mouths the story of what had happened that night. But first he would present the knives.

So where the hell was the report?

Annoyed, he dialed the police laboratory at headquarters on Centre Street and was connected with a man named Alex Hardy.

“This is Mr. Bell of the Homicide Bureau,” he said. “I’m prosecuting the Rafael Morrez case, which comes to trial three weeks from today. I’ve been expecting a report on the murder weapons, but I haven’t received one as yet. I’m preparing my case now, and I’d like to use whatever you can give me on those knives.”

“Morrez, Morrez, oh, yes,” Hardy said. “That Puerto Rican kid. Yes, we have the knives, all right.”

“I know you have them. How about the report?”

“Well, that’s another thing again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Dennis is on vacation, you see.”

“Who’s Dennis?”

“Dennis Bennel. He’s head of the lab.”

“So?”

“So he didn’t leave any instructions concerning those knives.”

“Well, who’s second in command there? Does your whole shop fall to pieces when one man goes on vacation?”

“Not at all, not at all. And there’s really no need to get snotty, Mr. Bell. We’re only doing our job here.”

“Your job was to run some tests on those knives. When will I have that report?”

“I’m just a working stiff, Mr. Bell. You’re wasting your time getting sore with me.”

“Whom do you suggest I get sore with?”

“I’ll connect you with Lieutenant Canotti. Maybe he can help you.”

Hardy covered the mouthpiece. Hank impatiently tapped a letter opener on the desk. A brusque voice came onto the line.

“Canotti here.”

“This is Assistant District Attorney Bell of the Homicide Bureau. I asked for a report on the murder weapons in the Rafael Morrez case. I still haven’t received it. Your man just told me Mr. Bennel...”

“Lieutenant Bennel. Yes?”

“...is out of the office on vacation. Now how do I go about getting that report?”

“Just ask,” Canotti said.

“I’m asking.”

“Okay. What’s all the heat about?”

“I’m trying the case in three weeks, that’s what all the heat is about. Listen, what is this? Some sort of a comic routine?”

“I’ll put somebody to work on the knives as soon as possible, Mr. Bell.”

“Thanks a lot. When will I have the report?”

“As soon as it’s ready.”

“And when will that be?”

“We’re a little understaffed at the moment. Half our men are on vacation, and there are murders being committed every day in this fair city, Mr. Bell. Now I’m sure you feel that the prosecution of a case is more important than the solving of another case, but our police department feels differently. We can’t satisfy everybody, Mr. Bell. We plod along and try to do our level best. But then, I’m sure you’re not interested in our internal problems.”

“Nor in your irony, Lieutenant. Can I have that report by the beginning of next week?”

“Certainly. If it’s ready.”

“Lieutenant Canotti, I’d hate like hell to have to go into the D.A.’s office on this.”

“I’d hate that to happen, too, Mr. Bell. Especially since we are now engaged on a project dumped into our laps by one of the Mayor’s committees. Do you understand, Mr. Bell?”

“I do. If I haven’t got that report by next Monday morning, you’ll be hearing from me.”

“Nice talking to you,” Canotti said, and he hung up.

Hank slammed down the receiver. How the hell was he supposed to get to the bottom of this without co-operation? How could he show the beginning, the middle, and the end of a murder without...

Until mankind can decide where the act of murder begins, there will be no justice.

The judge’s words. Strange words for a man sitting on the bench.