The Empty Chair

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’s 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 Tanner’s Corner?”
    “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 McConnell.”
    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 McConnell I began speculating why he’d done that. And I concluded that he’d been paid to kill her. He—”
    “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