scene, and questions about the manner in which
Captain Bedford died?'
'Yes sir,' Fenelli answered swiftly.
'And did you have some opinions about the murder that you expressed to him?'
'Yes sir. I did.'
'And are those opinions the same today as they were during that interview?'
Fenelli paused, swallowing hard, then he smiled wanly.
'Well, not exactly,' he said with a small hesitation.
Tommy was on his feet immediately.
'Your Honor!' He stared directly at Colonel MacNamara.
'I don't know precisely what's going on with this witness, but this sudden change of attitude stinks!'
Colonel MacNamara nodded.
'It does, perhaps, lieutenant.
But the man is now under oath in front of all of us.
He's sworn to tell the truth. We need to hear what he's going to say before we can judge it.'
'Sir, once a cat is out of the bag…'
MacNamara smiled, interrupting.
'I see your point, lieutenant.
But we're still going to listen to the man! Continue, please. Captain
Townsend.'
Tommy remained standing, his knuckles pressed hard and white against the defense table.
'Sit down, Mr. Hart!' MacNamara said sharply.
'You may make your arguments at the appropriate time!'
Tommy slumped down.
Captain Townsend hesitated, then asked, 'Well, let me back up a little.
Lieutenant Fenelli. Did there come a time subsequent to your conversation with Mr. Hart that you spoke with myself and Major Clark?'
'Yes sir.'
'And as part of that conversation, did you have the opportunity to examine the prosecution's evidence in this case? To wit, the homemade knife fashioned by Lieutenant Scott and the articles of clothing that we have here today?'
'Yes sir.'
'Now, Mr. Hart didn't show you these things, did he?'
'No sir. He only showed me the drawings he had had prepared.'
'Those drawings, did they seem accurate enough to you?'
'Yes sir. They did.'
'They still seem that way?'
'Yes sir.'
'Is there anything in those drawings that contradicts what you believe happened to Captain Bedford, based on your examination of the body?'
'No sir.'
'Now, tell this court what you came to believe about the crime.'
'Well, sir, my first impression, when I first laid out the captain's body, you see, was that Mr. Bedford had been killed by a stab from behind, which is just what I told Mr. Hart. I also believed right then that the murder weapon was something long and narrow…'
'You told Mr. Hart this? That the murder weapon was thin?'
'Yes sir. I suggested the killing was performed by a man wielding some sort of narrow stiletto or switchblade-type knife.'
'But he didn't show you this knife, did he?'
'No sir. He did not have it.'
'In fact, you've never seen this weapon, have you?'
'Well, not here.'
'Right. So, there is no evidence whatsoever that this second what did you call it…'
'Stiletto. Or switchblade, captain…'
'Right. This assassin's weapon. You've never seen it.
There's no evidence at all that it even exists, is there?'
'Not that I know of.'
'Right.' Townsend paused, took a deep breath, then asked, 'So, this killing that you first thought might have been performed with a knife that doesn't seem to exist… is that what you believe today?'
Tommy rose sharply.
'Objection!' he blurted.
Colonel MacNamara shook his head.
'Captain Townsend,' he said stiffly, 'try to ask your questions in an acceptable manner. Without all the unnecessary editorializing.'
'Of course, Your Honor. Sorry,' Townsend said. Then he looked over at Lieutenant Fenelli, and did not rephrase the question, but merely gestured, a small hand wave, as if encouraging his response.
'No sir. It's not exactly what I believe today. When I saw the blade in the prosecution's possession, the one you and the major showed me yesterday, well, then I was able to determine that the wounds inflicted upon Captain Bedford were possibly consistent with that weapon…'
Lincoln Scott muttered, 'Possibly consistent… that's great.' Tommy did not reply, instead focusing closely on each word that seemed to drag itself from Fenelli's lips.
'Was there another reason why you first thought the wounds Captain
Bedford suffered were delivered with that special sort of knife?'
Townsend questioned.
'Well, sir, yes. Those were the types of wounds that I saw in my mortuary experience back in Cleveland, sir. Because I was most familiar with those sorts of weapons and the damage they cause, that was sort of what I sort of automatically concluded. My fault. Sort of.'
Townsend smiled at Fenelli's tortured grammar.
'But upon further consideration…'
'Yes sir. Further consideration. A couple of further considerations, sir. I saw that there were also some contusions on the captain's face.
I suspect what might have happened was that he was struck by a fist, hard, which slammed him sideways into the wall of the Abort, and exposing that portion of the neck where the primary wound was discovered. In this maybe semiconscious and vulnerable state, kinda twisted sideways, you know, the blade was used to kill, giving me the impression of a blow from behind. At least, giving me that impression at first. I musta been wrong. Or coulda been, maybe. It might have happened that way. I'm no expert.'
Walker Townsend nodded. It was impossible for him to hide the look of pleased satisfaction on his face.
'That's right. You're not an expert.'
'That's what I said. I'm not an expert,' Fenelli repeated.
The medic from Cleveland shifted once or twice in his seat, then added,
'I feel that I should have maybe gone to Mr.
Hart and told him about my change of mind, sir. Shoulda gone, right after talking with you. I apologize for that. But I didn't have time, because ' 'Of course.' Townsend sliced off Fenelli's words sharply.
'Now I have just one more question, lieutenant,' Townsend said loudly.
'There has been much made of this right-hand, left-hand business…'
