The Empty Chair

Rhyme said, "Forgive me, Your Honor. I need to speak with the defendant and her counsel for a minute."

"Well," the judge grumbled, "we're in the middle of a proceeding. You can speak to her at some future time."

"With all respect, Your Honor," Rhyme responded, "I need to speak to her now." His voice was a grumble too but it was much louder than the jurist's.

Just like the old days, being in a courtroom.

Most people think that a criminalist's only job is finding and analyzing evidence. But when Lincoln Rhyme was head of the NYPD' s forensics operation – the Investigation and Resources Division – he had spent nearly as much time testifying in court as he did in the lab. He was a good expert witness. (Elaine, his ex-wife, often observed that he preferred to perform in front of people – herself included – rather than interact with them.)

Rhyme carefully steered up to the railing that separated the counsel tables from the gallery in the Paquenoke County Courthouse. He glanced at Amelia Sachs and the sight nearly broke his heart. In the three days she'd been in jail she'd lost a lot of weight and her face was sallow. Her red hair was dirty and pulled up in a taut bun – the way she wore it at crime scenes to keep the strands from brushing against evidence; this made her otherwise beautiful face severe and drawn.

Geberth walked over to Rhyme, crouched down. The criminalist spoke to him for a few minutes. Finally, Geberth nodded and rose. "Your Honor, I realize this is a hearing regarding a plea bargain. But I have an unusual proposal. There's some new evidence that's come to light -"

"Which you can introduce at trial," the judge snapped, "if your client chooses to reject the plea arrangement."

"I'm not proposing to introduce anything to the court; I'd like to make the state aware of this evidence and see if my worthy colleague will agree to consider it."

"For what purpose?"

"Possibly to alter the charges against my client." Geberth added coyly, "Which may just make Your Honor's docket somewhat less burdensome."

The judge rolled his eyes, to show that Yankee slickness counted for zip around these parts. Still, he glanced at the prosecutor and asked, "Well?"

The D. A. asked Geberth, "What sort of evidence? A new witness?"

Rhyme couldn't control himself any longer. "No," he said. "Physical evidence."

"You're this Lincoln Rhyme I've been hearing about?" the judge asked.

As if there were two crip criminalists plying their trade in the Tar Heel State.

"I am, yes."

The prosecutor asked, "Where is this evidence?"

"In my custody at the Paquenoke County Sheriff's Department," Lucy Kerr said.

The judge asked Rhyme, "You'll agree to be deposed, under oath?"

"Certainly."

"This's all right with you, Counselor?" the judge asked the prosecutor.

"It is, Your Honor, but if this is just tactical or if the evidence turns out to be meaningless, I'll pursue interference charges against Mr. Rhyme."

The judge thought for a moment then said, "For the record, this is not part of any proceeding. The court is merely lending itself to the parties for a deposition prior to arraignment. The examination will be conducted pursuant to North Carolina Rules of Criminal Procedure. Swear the deponent."

Rhyme parked in front of the bench. As the Bible-clutching clerk approached uncertainly, Rhyme said, "No, I can't raise my right hand." Then recited, "I swear that the testimony I am about to give is the truth, upon my solemn oath." He tried to catch Sachs' eye but she was staring at the faded mosaic tile on the courtroom floor.

Geberth strolled to the front of the courtroom. "Mr. Rhyme, could you state your name, address and occupation."

" Lincoln Rhyme, 345 Central Park West, New York City. I'm a criminalist."

"That's a forensic scientist, is that right?"

"Somewhat more than that but forensic science is the bulk of what I do."

"And how do you know the defendant, Amelia Sachs?"

"She's been my assistant and partner on a number of criminal investigations."

"And how did you happen to come to Ta

"We were assisting Sheriff James Bell and the Paquenoke County Sheriff's Department. Looking into the murder of Billy Stail and the abductions of Lydia Johansson and Mary Beth McCo

Geberth asked, "Now, Mr. Rhyme, you say you have new evidence that bears on this case?"

"Yes, I do."

"What is that evidence?"

"After we learned that Billy Stail had gone to Blackwater Landing to kill Mary Beth McCo

"Why did you think he was paid?"

"It's obvious why," Rhyme grumbled. He had little patience for irrelevant questions and Geberth was deviating from his script.

"Share that with us, if you would."

"Billy had no romantic relationship with Mary Beth of any kind. He wasn't involved in the murder of Garrett Hanlon's family. He didn't even know her. So he'd have no motivation to kill her other than financial profit."

"Go on."

Rhyme continued, "Whoever hired him wasn't going to pay by check, of course, but in cash. Deputy Kerr went to the house of Billy Stail's parents and was given permission to search his room. She discovered ten thousand dollars hidden beneath his mattress."

"What was there about this -"

"Why don't I just finish the story?" Rhyme asked the lawyer.

The judge said, "Good idea, Mr. Rhyme. I think counsel's laid enough groundwork."

"With Officer Kerr's assistance I did a friction ridge analysis – that's a fingerprint check – of the top and bottom bills in the stacks of cash. I found a total of sixty-one latent fingerprints. Aside from Billy's prints, two of these prints proved to be from a person involved in this case. Deputy Kerr got another warrant to enter that individual's house."

"Did you search it too?" the judge asked.

He replied with forced patience, "No, I didn't. It wasn't accessible to me. But I directed the search, which was conducted by Deputy Kerr. Inside the house she found a receipt for the purchase of a shovel identical to the murder weapon, eighty-three thousand dollars in cash, secured with wrappers identical to the ones around the two stacks of money in Billy Stail's house."

Dramatic as ever, Rhyme had saved the best till the last. "Deputy Kerr also found bone fragments in the barbecue behind that premises. These fragments match the bones of Garrett Hanlon's family."

"Whose house was this?"

"Deputy Jesse Corn's."

This drew some loud murmurs from the courtroom pews. The prosecutor remained unfazed but sat up slightly, his shoes scuffling on the tile floor, and whispered to his colleagues as they considered the implications of the revelation. In the gallery Jesse's parents turned to each other, shock in their eyes; his mother shook her head and started to cry.

"Where exactly are you going, Mr. Rhyme?" the judge asked.

Rhyme resisted telling the judge that the destination was obvious. He said, "Your Honor, Jesse Corn was one of the individuals who had conspired with Jim Bell and Steve Farr – to kill Garrett Hanlon's family five years ago and then to kill Mary Beth McCo

Oh, yeah. This town's got itself a few hornets.

The judge leaned back in his chair. "This has nothing to do with me. You two duke it out." Nodding from Geberth to the prosecutor. "You got five minutes then she accepts the plea bargain or I'll set bail and schedule trial."

The prosecutor said to Geberth, "Doesn't mean she didn't kill Jesse. Even if Corn was a co-conspirator he was still the victim of a homicide."