Miracle Creek(42)

“I don’t know what he knows. You’d have to ask him that.”

“Actually, I don’t, because your assistants did it for me.” Shannon held up another document. “An office memo to you, recommending that Pak Yoo be cleared of criminal negligence in the fire.” She handed it to him. “Please read the highlighted part.”

He cleared his throat and read, “‘Pak Yoo was well aware of the risks of fire. He studied previous fires, including the case in which fire started under oxygen tubes outside the chamber.’”

“So, let me ask again, isn’t it true that Pak Yoo had specialized knowledge and interest in hyperbaric fires similar to what happened here?”

“Yes, but—”

“Thank you, Detective.” Shannon wrote P. YOO next to Special knowledge and interest and stepped back. “So here we have Pak Yoo, Miracle Submarine’s owner, who had the motive, opportunity, and special knowledge to commit the crime. Let’s talk about the last remaining item on your chart: ownership of the weapon. Now, you’re assuming that the weapon here—the cigarette and matches used to set the fire—belonged to Elizabeth, correct?”

“I’m not assuming it, Ms. Haug. The facts are, a Camel cigarette and 7-Eleven matches started the fire, and the defendant was a short distance away with Camel cigarettes and 7-Eleven matches.”

“But she told you they weren’t hers, that she found them in the woods. Someone very well could’ve used them to set the fire, then thrown them away to get rid of the evidence. Did you even investigate the possibility that someone other than Elizabeth bought those items?”

“Yes, we investigated it. My team went to every 7-Eleven near Miracle Creek and in the defendant’s neighborhood and searched for receipts and the like.”

“Well, that’s a relief. So you must’ve asked those stores’ clerks if they recognized any of the others, including Pak Yoo, who we know had the motive, opportunity, and specialized knowledge to set this fire.” Shannon pointed to the three bright red P. YOOs.

Pierson glared at Shannon. He kept his mouth clenched shut.

“Detective, did you ask a single 7-Eleven clerk if Pak Yoo ever bought Camels?”

“No.” The word had a touch of defiance in it.

“Did you check his credit card bills for 7-Eleven charges?”

“No.”

“Go through his trash for 7-Eleven receipts?”

“No.”

“I see. So the extensive search you did, you did only for my client. Well, let’s hear it. How many 7-Eleven store clerks recognized Elizabeth?”

“None.”

“None? Well, how about receipts? You must have gone through her trash, car, purse, pockets, looking for 7-Eleven receipts, correct?”

“Yes. And no, we didn’t find anything.”

“Elizabeth’s credit card statements?”

“No. But the fingerprints conclusively—”

“Ah, the fingerprints. Let’s talk about them. You don’t believe that Elizabeth found the cigarettes and matches. According to you, they were hers, despite the fact that there’s zero evidence she bought them. And that’s why no other prints were on them—because she’s the only one who touched them, correct?”

“Exactly.”

“Detective, this is the part that confuses me. If the cigarettes and matches were hers, she must’ve bought them somewhere. So shouldn’t the store clerk’s fingerprints be on them?”

“Not if she bought a carton of cigarettes.”

“A carton, ten packs. Two hundred cigarettes. Did you find an open carton of Camels or any other cigarettes anywhere in her house or trash?”

“No.”

“In her purse?”

“No.”

“Her car?”

“No.”

“Any cigarette butts in her car or in trash bins in her house? Anything indicating that she smoked regularly such that she’d buy a whole carton of cigarettes?”

Pierson blinked a few times. “No.”

“And the matches, even when someone buys a whole carton, they still hand you individual matchbooks, right?”

“Yes, but over time, with a lot of handling, the defendant’s fingerprints would displace the clerk’s, on both the matches and the cigarette pack. So it doesn’t surprise me that the clerk’s prints wouldn’t be on those items.”

“Detective, on an item used frequently enough to displace older fingerprints, you’d expect to find multiple overlapping fingerprints of the owner, correct?”

“I suppose.”

Shannon walked to her table, flipped through a file, and picked out a document, a triumphant smile on her face. She strutted back and handed it to him. “Tell us what this is.”

“It’s the fingerprint analysis of the items found in the picnic area.”

“Please read for us the highlighted passages.”

As he scanned the document, his face started to droop like a wax figurine on a hot day. “Matchbook, exterior: one full and four partial fingerprint marks. Cigarettes, exterior: four full and six partial print marks. Ten-point analysis identification: Elizabeth Ward.”

“Detective, in your office, is it customary practice to report the presence of overlapping fingerprints if there are, in fact, any?”