Page 199 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Jury-rigged

“I’m prepared to get it. It might take some legal maneuvering, but I
have at least three medical school professors with a long list of
credentials willing to testify that physiological phobic
manifestations—pulse rate, respiration, perspiration—can be
manufactured by a person skilled in self-control, biofeedback being
an example. Same reason lie detector tests are inadmissible evidence
in court. Hannibal’s alibi will not withstand serious scrutiny.”
Labelle returned to her annoying data entry. “Fine. Now to the
selection of victim. Is this the report? I don’t see a date on it.” She
waved a piece of foolscap at me.
“Sorry. If it doesn’t have Beryl Creighton’s name on it, it must be
the right one.”
She did not find that an obvious deduction, unconvinced that I
could not have omitted something as a result of simple
incompetence. I kept thinking about that fax.
“Una Lloyd, juror number two, was at home. She was in process of
getting bars installed on her windows, but the job had been halted by
the contractor before the work was completed. A disagreement over
terms of payment, said Ms. Lloyd. So she was alone—perhaps more
vigilant than before, but partially unprotected. Number three, Frank
O. Fonik, per your observation, had become increasingly paranoid. It
was a weekend night, so he had driven out to his parents’ place. But
he did not sleep there, afraid that the Simulians would know where to
find him. So he checked into a hotel nearby under an intentionally
misspelled version of his name and had the desk clerk call him once
every two hours to be sure he was okay.”
“What a nut! Not much sleep and lots of worry. He looked like a
nervous wreck when I saw him Monday. He had dyed his hair, what
there is of it, and was wearing tinted glasses.”
Labelle Gramercy considered my remarks frivolous. She frowned
and continued.
“Hedy Bokay might have been the next victim. Her neighbors
called 9-1-1 when they heard a couple of shots fired from the
direction of her house a little past midnight on May 3. The police
report shows that they located Ms. Bokay, shaken but intact, sitting in
the living room in her nightgown. She said she had heard scratching
noises at her back door, gotten out of bed, taken her .32 from its
holster, and gone to investigate. She said she yelled at whoever was

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