“Have you ever forged another person’s signature to obtain money?”
“No.”
“Do you owe any person money?”
“No.”
“Do you own a house?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a mortgage on the house?”
“No.”
“Have you lied about anything during this examination?”
“No,” she breathed.
“That concludes the test,” the man said. “You are a liar.”
EIGHT
KERRY SMITH LED BOB KINNEY over to the conference table in his new office and picked up something the size of his hand, enclosed in bubble wrap. “This is a piece of Teddy Fay’s airplane,” he said, unwrapping the object.
Kinney took it from him and turned it over in his hands, then handed it back, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands thoroughly. “You’re right, these are pretty small pieces,” he said.
“Right,” Kerry said. “That greasy, gritty black stuff you’re wiping off your hands is the residue of a combination of burnt aviation gasoline, saltwater and plastics explosives. It’s on nearly every piece of the airplane we’ve found.” He picked up a larger object, unwrapped it, and read an attached tag. “This is about a quarter of the right-side passenger door of the airplane.” He held it up, but Kinney did not touch it.
“It looks pretty much like the other piece you showed me, but larger.”
“Yes, and please note that the inside of this part of the door-we can distinguish it from the outside, because the outside has part of a stripe that ran the length of the airplane-is bare metal, with no trace of the upholstered lining of the door.”
“Yes, I see that. What are you getting at, Kerry?”
Smith walked around the conference table and picked up a very large chunk of the airplane that was leaning against the wall. He unwrapped it. “Do you recognize this?”
“It’s obviously the other door of the airplane,” Kinney said.
“The left-side pilot’s door,” Kerry replied. “Please note its condition. It’s bent, on a line from upper left to lower right, but the upholstery is intact, and the Plexiglas window is still in the frame. And it has no gasoline or explosive residue on it anywhere.”
Kinney tried to relax the knot in his stomach. “What are you telling me?”
“It would appear that this door was not attached to the airplane when the explosion occurred.”
“Well, if Fay was sitting in the pilot’s seat at the time, his body would have taken much of the force of the explosion, wouldn’t it?”
“Some, perhaps, but compare it to the fragment from the other door. Quite a contrast, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes. What do you posit?”
“I posit that Fay opened the door, removed it from its hinges, threw it out of the airplane, set the timer on a bomb, then jumped out.”
“Maybe there’s another explanation,” Kinney said.
“I don’t think so. Also, this door was found much closer to the shore than the other fragments of the airplane, indicating that it began its fall sooner.”
“I see,” Kinney said, feeling a little sick. “And you think Fay was wearing a parachute?”