Eyes of a Child (49 page)

The seemingly casual remark, Paget thought, was artful: he doubted that anyone on the jury did not now assume that Ricardo Arias had died before Paget left for Italy.

Quietly, Salinas asked, ‘And were your physical findings, Dr Shelton, consistent with a self-inflicted gunshot wound?'

With this question, Paget knew, Salinas had reached a critical point: before proving Paget a murderer, he must establish that a murder had occurred. In the jury box, Joseph Duarte flipped a page of his notepad and waited to hear Shelton's reasons. For the first time, Shelton turned to Paget, giving him a look that seemed to mix puzzlement and disappointment. ‘They were not,' she answered. ‘I concluded that Mr Arias had died at the hands of another.'

Although she had not spoken his name, Paget felt accused. The jury was stiff, attentive. ‘What facts,' Salinas asked, ‘led you to conclude that Mr Arias was not a suicide?'

Shelton gazed up at the ceiling, as if to reconstruct her thought process. ‘When I first arrived at the scene, I assumed this might well be suicide. The cause of death – a gunshot through the mouth – was consistent with that, and there were no signs of forced entry at the apartment itself. And Mr Arias apparently had left a note.' Pausing, Shelton looked pensive, a woman reliving her own doubts. ‘But within moments, I found things that made suicide seem unlikely. By the time I left, it seemed apparent that this was a homicide dressed up to look like suicide.' She glanced at Paget. ‘Not very well dressed, at that.'

As she watched, Caroline took out a pen and began scribbling on a legal pad. ‘On what basis,' Salinas asked, ‘did

you determine
that
?'

‘The
first
thing I noticed was Mr Arias's hands.' Shelton turned to the jury. ‘As I mentioned, the bullet which killed Mr Arias did
not
exit his head. That causes something called blowback – blood splatter and tissue which, because of the pressure of the bullet, sprays
forward
through the path left by the gunshot. Which is why the pictures of Mr Arias show specks of blood and tissue on his face.

‘Similarly, the firearms examiner advised me that the gun which killed Mr Arias was old, a Smith and Wesson safety revolver manufactured in the early nineteen hundreds, and firing Winchester silver-tip bullets made roughly
thirty
years ago. A gun like that leaves a considerable amount of gunshot residue – what we call GSR – a sootlike deposit of unburnt gunpowder and the chemicals found within. There
was
a significant amount of GSR on Mr Arias's tongue, the roof of his mouth,
and
his face. In fact, we even found blood spatter and traces of powder on a coffee table
three feet
from Mr Arias's body.' Shelton paused, surveying the jury. ‘My point is this: if Mr Arias had placed the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger, I would expect to find
at least
as much blood spatter and GSR on his
hands
and
arms
as on his face. But there was almost none.'

The jury had a rapt look, Paget saw. Marian Celler, whose empathy Paget hoped for, seemed very troubled. ‘If that had been the
only
thing,' Shelton said, ‘I would have had extreme difficulty in accepting that Mr Arias shot himself. But there was additional evidence inconsistent with suicide.

‘Perhaps most troubling was the
other
violence done to Mr Arias. First, Mr Arias skull showed an abrasion – a gash on the back of his head – which was not caused by the gunshot wound. And in fact, we determined from traces of skin and hair that Mr Arias's head had struck the corner of his coffee table.

‘Then there were contusions and swelling to Mr Arias's nose. Again, the fatal bullet did not cause this. And the fact that his nose had been bleeding was consistent with a blow struck
prior
to his death.'

In an involuntary reflex, Paget thought of the suit he had taken to Goodwill, and then of Terri, glancing at his hand as she had concealed his injury from Monk. He was glad that she was not here.

‘Our autopsy,' Shelton continued, ‘revealed another anomaly: a bruise on the front of Mr Arias's right leg. Although we could not determine the cause, its position reflected the approximate height of the coffee table.'

Salinas folded his arms; his posture and expression were that of a master teacher listening to his most brilliant student. ‘Have you completed your answer, Dr Shelton, regarding your basis for opining that Mr Arias was murdered?'

‘No, actually.' Shelton turned to Caroline, nodding slightly. ‘Ms Masters is quite correct: there
is
no protocol for suicide. But in my experience, people tend to shoot themselves in three positions: standing up; sitting in a chair; or lying in bed. Here, based on the pattern of blowback on the arms and the angle of the bullet, Mr Arias would have had to shoot himself while lying on the floor
and
with his head slightly raised. I've never seen
anyone
who did that.

‘Which brings me to the angle of the gun. Like the position of the body, it's unusual – even bizarre. If Mr Arias had been holding the revolver in his mouth, you would expect it to be pointing
up
toward his brain. Instead the trajectory was slightly downward, toward his throat. Which would have required Mr Arias to lie on his back, head slightly raised, and then take the gun, hold it above him – apparently over his nose – crook his elbow and arm to angle the gun downward, and
then
pull the trigger. Perhaps with his thumb.'

Shelton's testimony was becoming deadly, Paget knew. But there was nothing Caroline could do but listen and wait.

Salinas walked to his table, producing a small black revolver with an exhibit tag. ‘Your Honor, this revolver has been premarked as People's Exhibit 5. With the permission of the court, I will ask Dr Shelton to identify it.'

‘May we see it?' Caroline asked.

Without a word, Salinas placed the revolver on the table. Looking down, Paget saw a small and worn handgun, with a checkered handgrip monogrammed. ‘S&W' and a safety catch inside the grip. He did not pick it up.

‘Odd,' he murmured to Caroline, ‘That it's so old.'

‘Counselor?' Salinas interjected.

When Caroline nodded, Salinas took the gun and handed it to Shelton. ‘Is this the murder weapon, Dr Shelton?'

Holding the revolver by the barrel, Shelton examined it. ‘It certainly appears to be,' she answered.

With sudden fluidity, Salinas took the gun from her hand and lay on the floor, head slightly raised. ‘In your opinion, was
this
Mr Arias's approximate position at the moment of death?'

Caroline rose. ‘Is Mr Salinas about to levitate, Your Honor? Otherwise I really don't know what this proves.'

But the jury seemed riveted to Salinas. He peered up from the floor at a somewhat bemused Jared Lerner. ‘I'm simply helping Dr Shelton demonstrate her point regarding the contortions required for Mr Arias's presumptive suicide. Quickly, I hope, before I get a crick in my neck.'

There was muffled laughter. ‘All right,' Lerner said with an air of amusement. ‘Go ahead.'

But what was coming, Paget suddenly saw, would not be funny. Slowly, Salinas placed the gun to his mouth, asking disingenuously, ‘Is this the right angle?'

Shelton gazed down at him with a fleeting look of distaste. ‘No,' she said tersely. ‘Raise the gun above your nose and point it down.'

Salinas followed her instructions; the result – elbows bent, wrist twisted, thumb on the trigger – looked grotesque. ‘Like
this?
' he asked in a tone of disbelief.

‘Approximately. Yes.'

Salinas maintained the awkward position. ‘But this
isn't
what you believe happened. Could you help me illustrate what you think
did
happen?'

Gingerly, Shelton walked over to Salinas and knelt. The jury watched as one.

Gazing into Shelton's face, Salinas opened his mouth. With her right hand, Shelton slid the gun into his mouth.

Salinas's eyes widened. ‘Like
this
,' Shelton said quietly, and pulled the trigger.

There was a soft click. In the jury box, Luisa Marin turned away. Salinas's eyes stayed frozen: in that moment, Paget knew, the murder of Ricardo Arias had become real.

Slowly, Shelton removed the gun. But Salinas's eyes did not change. ‘Which reminds me,' he asked quietly, ‘did you find anything peculiar about Mr Arias's eyes?'

She looked down at him. ‘I did,' she said with equal quiet. ‘Virtually all the people I've seen who shot themselves died with their eyes shut.'

Luisa Marin was staring at Shelton; in that moment, Paget was certain that she had seen her father's body, and that his eyes were closed.

‘Pardon me, Counsel,' Jared Lerner broke in. ‘Are you through lying on the floor?'

Salinas seemed faintly annoyed. ‘Yes,' he answered. ‘Thank you, Your Honor.'

Turning, Elizabeth Shelton walked back to the stand. ‘She just
loves
Victor,' Caroline whispered dryly.

Shelton faced Salinas again, her face studiedly neutral. Hands on hips, Salinas asked, ‘Based on the medical evidence, Dr Shelton, do you have a belief as to the sequence of events which led to Mr Arias's death?'

Shelton glanced at Paget; for a brief moment, their eyes met, and then she turned to the jury. ‘I do,' she said firmly. ‘The medical evidence is consistent with my belief that Mr Arias sustained a blow to the face and that he spun and fell over the coffee table, resulting in an injury to his head. Together, the blows to the face and head rendered Mr Arias unconscious.' Pausing, Shelton spoke more quietly. ‘The evidence further suggests that as he lay there on the floor, someone inserted the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger twice. But, as ballistics discovered, the bullets had been kept in a damp place, and the first shot did not discharge. Finally, the medical evidence suggests that before the gun was fired again, Mr Arias awoke. So that, in the last instant of his life, he was aware of the gun in his mouth.'

The sentence lingered there. Shelton reached for the glass of water on the railing of the witness box, took a sip, and continued. ‘I cannot
know
what happened. But my thesis accounts for the medical evidence – the injuries to Mr Arias's nose, head, and leg; the tissue on the table; the blood spatter and GSR on the same table as well as on his face; their anomalous absence on his hands; the peculiar angle of the bullet; the strange position of his head; and' – here Shelton's voice fell – ‘the look of terrible fright, captured by the moment of death.'

She folded her hands. ‘I may be off about a detail or two. But the medical evidence is
not
consistent with suicide. Of
that
I'm quite confident.' She paused again. ‘To put it more baldly, Mr Salinas, this man was murdered.'

Beneath the table, Caroline's fingertips grazed Paget's knee, a fleeting gesture of reassurance. ‘Victor went a little too far,' she murmured, and then she was on her feet, walking toward Shelton.

Shelton gave Caroline a look of polite interest. ‘Was Mr Arias's alarm set?' she asked abruptly.

Shelton looked surprised. ‘No. I believe not.'

‘Perhaps,' Caroline said dryly, ‘he didn't plan on getting up.'

‘Objection,' Salinas called out. ‘Calls for speculation.'

‘Precisely, Victor,' Caroline asserted, still gazing at Shelton. ‘And it's at least as reasonable as your questions about the coffeemaker.'

The corner of Shelton's mouth flickered. ‘Sustained,' Lerner said. ‘Perhaps you may wish to ask the question another way.'

‘I do, actually. Dr Shelton, would you consider Mr Arias's failure to set his alarm to be as consistent with suicide as his supposed action in setting the coffeemaker is consistent, in your thesis, with murder?'

Shelton gave a disinterested shrug. ‘I suppose so. Neither proves much, and my opinion isn't based on coffee grounds.'

‘That's just as well. Let's stick to the evidence, then. For all you know, waking or sleeping, Mr Arias was alive when the newspaper was delivered, correct?'

‘It's possible, yes.'

‘And, indeed, it's possible he slept well into the morning? Until ten or eleven.'

Shelton's eyes, alert and a little amused, told Paget that she had followed Caroline perfectly. ‘In theory, yes.'

‘So that even accepting your hypothesis, if Mr Paget was driving to the airport before seven and on an airplane by eight, it's quite possible that Mr Arias died thereafter.'

Shelton nodded. ‘It's all possible, Ms Masters.'

Caroline raised her head; her profile, handsome and aristocratic, seemed to draw the jury. ‘Then you have no opinion on whether
Christopher Paget
shot Ricardo Arias. Or even
could
have.'

‘None whatsoever.'

These were easy questions to ask, Paget knew; other witnesses would try to show his guilt. But it allowed Caroline to establish a rhythm, making a point or two with the jury. ‘Speaking of the revolver,' she continued, ‘It's a rather weak caliber, is it not?'

‘Yes.'

‘Which would cause a lesser amount of blowback?'

‘Yes.' Pausing, Shelton decided to anticipate Caroline's next question. ‘But not in a pattern which reached the coffee table but excluded Mr Arias's hands and arms.'

Caroline smiled. ‘It didn't really
exclude
them, did it? As I recall, the autopsy report showed traces of blood and GSR on Mr Arias's right hand.'

‘A
small
trace,' Shelton corrected. ‘But there was far more on the gun itself. From which I concluded that someone else held it, receiving blowback on his or her hand or sleeve, and then placed it in Mr Arias's right hand, leaving only the small trace of blowback and GSR.'