‘So, those of Mr Whittaker were imposed on the plastic when he held the wallet in his hand and never smudged by being shoved inside a tight pocket?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘And those of Mr Cornish were also imposed in the same way and also remained clear because after that point the wallet was not rubbed against the fabric of an inside pocket?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘If a man, running from the scene of a mugging, opened the wallet, plucked from it all its contents, then shoved the wallet into the rear pocket of his jeans, it would have his clear prints on the outer cover of the plastic?’
‘Yes,it would.’
‘But would the denim fabric, the tightness of jeans pockets and the running motion, blur those prints within, say, half a mile?’
‘That might be the effect.’
‘So, if our runner half a mile later plucks the empty wallet from his rear pocket with forefinger and thumb in order to throw it away, he would leave just that forefinger and thumb print for you to find?’
‘Yes.’
‘But if a finder came along and so covered the plastic surface with his own prints, could he not over-smudge the forefinger and thumb?’
&nbs
p; ‘I suppose he might.’
‘You see, your report says that there were some smudges, over-covered by fresher prints, that could have come from another hand.’
‘They are only smudges. The prints under the smudges could also be those of the owner or Cornish.’
In the back of the court Jack Burns’s stomach turned. Miss Verity Armitage. She had picked up the fallen wallet from the floor of her flower shop.
‘Mr Adams, the wallet was plucked from the deceased’s pocket just after two last Tuesday fortnight. By the same hour on Wednesday or shortly afterwards, Mr Cornish was in police custody. He must have put his prints on that wallet within that twenty-four-hour period?’
‘Yes.’
‘But the wallet was only found on Sunday morning. It must have lain in that grass for between four and a half and five and a half days. Yet the prints were clear.’
‘There was no sign of water damage, sir. In fine dry conditions that is perfectly possible.’
‘Then can you say precisely whether Mr Cornish’s prints were impressed onto the plastic on Tuesday afternoon or the Wednesday morning?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Wednesday morning two young men are walking down Mandela Road when they see, lying in the gutter, a wallet. With quite normal curiosity, one of them stops to pick it up. He opens it to see what it contains. But there is nothing, neither money nor papers. It is a cheap wallet, worth nothing. He flicks it high over the sheet-metal fence separating Mandela Road from some waste ground; it lands some ten yards into the area and lies in the long grass until discovered by a dog on the Sunday. Feasible?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Yes or no, Mr Adams. Would the prints then match the ones you found?’
‘Yes.’
Another message for Jonathan Stein. That is what Harry Cornish is going to insist happened, and it is a complete explanation of his prints on that wallet. Mr Jonathan Stein stared down thoughtfully and made notes.
There remained Mr Veejay Patel. His two identifications and his statement were completely unambiguous. Miss Sundaran led him through his evidence stage by stage. At the back, Burns relaxed. He would get his committal. Vansittart rose.
‘Mr Patel, you are an honest man.’
‘I hope so.’