The Naked Typist sw-4

by Parnell Hall

  “Why were you trying to get in touch with her?”

  “To find out what her game was. At first it seemed obvious. On the afternoon of the incident, when she left work, her attorney, Steve Winslow, showed up, charging us with sexual harassment and unjust termination and demanding a settlement on the part of the defendant.”

  “And how was that situation handled?”

  “We paid him off. Milton Castleton wrote him a check for fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Fifty thousand dollars?”

  “Yes. At the time it seemed dirt cheap. We were glad to pay and be rid of her. Because this seemed to indicate she was not an industrial spy after all, just an unscrupulous woman pulling a shakedown.”

  “If that’s true, why did you want to get in touch with her?”

  “Because we weren’t entirely convinced. There was still that business about her playing with the computer. We’d talked to her attorney, but we wanted to talk to her personally to make sure the matter was absolutely settled.”

  “And did you?”

  “No. That was when I tried to contact her and learned that the name, address and telephone number she had given us were bogus.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Well, that confirmed our worst fears. Despite the settlement, we were afraid of what this woman might do next. So we made every effort to find out who she was.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “We sent David Castleton to her attorney’s office. We primed him to tell a story indicating that he was attracted to the defendant and wanted to date her.”

  “And did that approach work?”

  “No, it did not.”

  “He was not put in touch with the defendant?”

  “No, he was not.”

  “So David Castleton knew all about the situation before you called him in on the night that he was murdered?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Getting back to that night, he met with you and Milton Castleton after work, then went out, presumably to meet the defendant?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And where was he going to meet her?”

  “At the Cove, a singles bar on Third Avenue.”

  “Who chose that as the meeting place?”

  “We did. It was a place near the office where David was used to going. I suggested that location in my last phone call with the defendant.”

  “And she agreed to it?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “She agreed to meet him there?”

  “Yes.”

  “At what time?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “What time did David Castleton leave his grandfather’s apartment that night?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. About six-fifteen or six-thirty.”

  “And that was the last time you saw David Castleton alive?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “And the instructions you gave him at that time were to meet with the defendant, try to find out what she wanted and in particular to try to find out her real name and address?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Thank you. That’s all.”

  Judge Wallingsford had just turned toward the defense table when Dirkson said, “Excuse me, Your Honor, that’s not all. I’m sorry, Your Honor, there’s one more matter I forgot to bring up. Mr. Danby, are you familiar with the defendant’s brother, Herbert Clay?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “How do you happen to know him?”

  “He was an employee of Castleton Industries.”

  “Who was his immediate superior in the firm?”

  “David Castleton.”

  “Do you happen to know if Herbert Clay owned a gun?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Did you ever see that gun?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How did you happen to see it?”

  “He had the gun for his work. As bookkeeper, it was sometimes his job to deposit large sums of cash. He carried the gun for his protection.”

  “You saw him on some of those occasions?”

  “Oh, yes. In many instances I actually gave him the money.”

  “So you were familiar with his gun?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m familiar with it, but I’ve certainly seen it.”

  “I show you a gun marked for identification People’s Exhibit Three, and ask you if that is the gun Herbert Clay had?”

  Danby took the gun, looked it over. “I can’t identify positively, but it certainly looks like it.”

  “Thank you,” Dirkson said. He took the gun back from the witness. “Now, did there come a time when Herbert Clay left the employ of Castleton Industries?

  “Yes, there did.”

  “Can you tell us what happened at that time?”

  “Yes. When it became clear that Herbert Clay was not going to be returning to the firm, and we were going to have to replace him, we naturally cleaned out his office to make way for the new bookkeeper.”

  “Did you clean out the office yourself?”

  “No. I ordered it done.”

  “Where you present when the office was cleaned out?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “What was done with Herbert Clay’s belongings?”

  “They were packed in boxes.”

  “Including the things in his desk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you present when his desk drawers were cleaned out?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Why?”

  “While the employees were packing, I was sorting.”

  “What for?”

  “To differentiate between Herbert Clay’s personal possessions and those belonging to the company. Naturally, all company papers and files needed to be turned over to the new bookkeeper.”

  “I see. So you did the sorting yourself?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And in cleaning out his desk, did you happen to find his gun?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “The gun was not in his desk at the time?”

  “No, it was not.”

  “Thank you,” Dirkson said. “That’s all.”

  Steve Winslow stood up. “Mr. Danby, you mentioned me in your testimony, did you not?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You said on the afternoon of the incident when Kelly Wilder left Milton Castleton’s employ, I came to Milton Castleton’s apartment, accused you of sexual harassment and improper termination, and effected a settlement. Is that right?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Fine,” Steve said. “On that occasion, when I came there and made those accusations, what explanation did you give for the defendant leaving her job?”

  “Objection, Your Honor. Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

  Judge Wallingsford frowned. “Let’s have a sidebar.”

  When the attorneys had gathered at the sidebar, Judge Wallingsford said, “Mr. Winslow, I tend to agree with Mr. Dirkson. This is certainly a side issue and hardly relevant.”

  “It relates to his bias,” Steve said.

  “We freely admit his bias, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “The witness is fiercely loyal to Castleton Industries and is biased against the defendant because he believes that she killed David Castleton. Any remarks he may have made about her leaving her employment are certainly a side issue.”

  “I suppose that would depend upon the answer given,” Judge Wallingsford said. “Mr. Winslow, are you assuring me his answer will show bias?”

  “The point is actually moot, Your Honor,” Steve said. “The question is admissible for another reason.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s an elemental rule of law that when the prosecution introduces part of a conversation on direct examination, the defense is entitled to the entire conversation on cross.”

  “But I didn’t ask for any conversation,” Dirkson said.

  Steve smiled. “Come, come. Didn’t the witness tes
tify that I came to Milton Castleton’s apartment, accused him of sexual harassment and demanded a settlement?”

  “But that’s not asking for a conversation.”

  “Do you contend that I came there and handed them my demand in writing, or perhaps conveyed it to them by mental telepathy?”

  Dirkson frowned.

  Judge Wallingsford said, “I think that’s conclusive, Mr. Dirkson. As far as the court is concerned, the door is open. The objection is overruled.”

  After the judge and the lawyers had resumed their positions, Steve Winslow said, “I’ll repeat the question, Mr. Danby. On the occasion when I came to Milton Castleton’s apartment, accused you of sexual harassment and demanded a settlement, what explanation did you give for the defendant leaving her employment?”

  Danby shifted position on the witness stand. “I believe I said that she had made improper advances toward me.”

  “You believe you said that?”

  “No, I said that.”

  “That is what you said, Mr. Danby?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “That’s mighty strange. You just got on the witness stand under oath and told us the defendant left Milton Castleton’s employ because you caught her playing with the computer terminal and thought she was an industrial spy. Did you not so testify?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Well, gee, which is correct, Mr. Danby? The story you told on the witness stand, or the story you told me that day in Milton Castleton’s apartment?”

  “I have testified to the truth.”

  “Then the story you told me in Milton Castleton’s apartment was a lie?”

  Danby took a breath. “It was not the entire truth.”

  “The entire truth? It wasn’t true at all, was it?”

  “Well …”

  “Was it true or wasn’t it?”

  “No, it was not.”

  “It was a lie, was it not, Mr. Danby?”

  “Objection. Already asked and answered.”

  “Overruled.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “The story you told me that afternoon in Milton Castleton’s apartment about how the defendant left her job was a lie, is that right?”

  “Objection. Already asked and answered.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Mr. Danby, why did you lie to me that afternoon in Milton Castleton’s apartment?”

  “Objection.”

  “Overruled.”

  Danby hesitated. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “You were the defendant’s attorney. We didn’t know what you knew. Since we were dealing at arm’s length, we didn’t want to give you any information you didn’t already have. We didn’t know what the situation was, we were playing it very cautiously.”

  “When you say we, you mean you and Milton Castleton?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Danby. Did you just lie to me, or did you lie to Milton Castleton as well.”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Did Milton Castleton know the story you were telling me was a lie?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Mr. Danby, getting back to your explanation of why you lied to me, you say it was because you didn’t know what was going on and you didn’t know what I knew. Is that right?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “So you were trying to protect yourself?”

  “That’s right.”

  “By yourself, you mean you and Milton Castleton?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Mr. Danby, I take it that you are fiercely loyal to your employer?”

  “It is no secret that I am loyal to Milton Castleton.”

  “And you would do anything to protect him? Even lie?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Thank you. That’s all.”

  36

  After Phil Danby’s testimony, the next witnesses were somewhat of an anticlimax. Dirkson couldn’t help that, but he was sharp enough to know it and to compensate for it. He simply shifted gears, quickly, coolly and methodically tracing David Castleton’s last moments on the night of his death.

  First he called the bartender from the singles bar on Third Avenue, who testified that David Castleton had showed up sometime in the vicinity of six-thirty to seven o’clock. David Castleton was a regular there, the bartender knew him well, and there was no doubt about it. He’d been at the bar, drinking and talking with a young woman who was not the defendant. But he had not left with her. He had left her at the bar to go talk to another woman who had just arrived. The bartender could not identify that woman as the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder, and was forced to admit he had not been paying that much attention. Nor could he testify that David Castleton had left with this woman. All he knew was that from that point on he didn’t recall seeing him again.

  Next up was the cabdriver who testified to picking up a young man and woman outside the singles bar and taking them to Gino’s, a small Italian restaurant on the upper East Side. The cab-driver could not identify the man, but testified that he thought the woman was the defendant. His identification of her was shaky at best, and on cross-examination Fitzpatrick all but made him retract it.

  That turned out to be a moot point, because next up were the waiter and maitre d’ from Gino’s, both of whom knew David Castleton well and identified him absolutely, and both of whom were equally positive the woman he had dined with was Kelly Clay Wilder. The waiter also testified that he had served the veal no later than nine o’clock, and would not budge, despite a grueling cross-examination by Fitzpatrick.

  Next came the cabdriver who had picked up a young man and woman and driven them from the restaurant to David Castleton’s apartment. He introduced his trip sheet, which showed the time of the pickup, ten-twenty, and the exact address of the apartment, 190 East 74th Street. He could not identify the man as David Castleton, but his identification of Kelly Clay Wilder as the woman carried conviction. The cabdriver was young, cocky, slightly arrogant and obviously fancied himself as something of a stud. The jury had no trouble believing he would take particular notice of a woman as attractive as Kelly Wilder.

  On cross-examination Fitzpatrick did a good job in forcing him to admit that he had not seen these two people enter the building where he had taken them and that for all he knew the defendant could have said good-night to the young man and walked off down the street.

  But that didn’t faze Dirkson. When Fitzpatrick was done, Dirkson simply stood up on redirect and said, “And what time was it when you dropped off these two people, one of whom was the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder?”

  “Ten-thirty.”

  “And once again, what address did you take them to?”

  “One ninety East 74th Street.”

  Dirkson smiled and said, “That’s all.”

  And when the defense had no further questions of the witness, Dirkson smiled again and rested his case.

  37

  “We’re gonna put you on the stand.”

  Kelly Wilder blinked at Steve Winslow and Harold Fitzpatrick through the wire mesh. “I thought you weren’t sure,” she said.

  “Yeah, well we are now,” Steve said. “We have no choice. Dirkson’s built up a strong case of circumstantial evidence, and frankly we haven’t been able to shake it. Our only hope now is to tell your story and sell it to the jury.”

  “Good.”

  Steve shook his head. “It’s not good.”

  “But I want to tell my story.”

  “I know,” Steve said. “It’s been bottled up inside you, it’s been frustrating as hell, you want to tell the whole world. That’s natural. But you don’t know what you’re in for. Because it’s your story and you know it’s true, so you think that’s all there is to it. But no one else knows it’s true, and no one else has even heard it. The jury will be getting this stuff for the first time. Believe me, they’re gonna be
skeptical. ’Cause you’re gonna be contradicting things the prosecution’s already sold them on. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’m telling you it’s no cakewalk.”

  “I know that. What do I have to do?”

  “Just tell the truth. Simple, straight, the way it happened. Don’t worry. Fitzpatrick will lead you through it.”

  “Fitzpatrick? Why not you?”

  “Fitzpatrick will carry more weight with the jury. He’ll be kind, sympathetic, a father figure.”

  Fitzpatrick grinned. “Thanks a lot.”

  “Now,” Steve said, “we’re not gonna rehearse your story-we don’t want you to sound coached. Just tell it in your own words the way it happened. Just try not to get carried away.”

  “You mean don’t get emotional?”

  Steve frowned. “Yes and no. I don’t want you to seem cold and detached-juries peg a person like that as a methodical killer. No, the whole thing’s been a horrible experience, of course you’re upset about it, and it’s terribly frustrating to be on trial for a murder you didn’t commit. That’s only natural.

  “But try not to be bitter. Try not to come across as vindictive, because that’s the picture that Dirkson’s been trying to paint. See what I mean?”

  “Yeah. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Tell the truth.”

  “Of course I’m gonna tell the truth.”

  “Yeah, but tell the whole truth. Don’t leave anything out. And don’t say anything that isn’t so. Just let Dirkson catch you in one lie, however small, and you’re through. Even if it’s something as stupid as the color of the purse you were carrying, you either get it right or you say you don’t know.

  “This may seem stupid, but you haven’t seen Dirkson in action. He’ll get you confused on what you had for breakfast that day. And if he can get you to contradict yourself on anything, even once, there goes your whole testimony and there goes the case. It’ll be ‘How sure are you David Castleton was alive when you left? As certain as you were you had Rice Crispies that morning?’”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “It’s stupid when I say it, but wait till you hear Dirkson.”

  “Won’t you object to questions like that?”

  “We’ll protect you all we can, but it’s a two-edged sword. If we’re objecting all the time, the jury starts to think you need protection, that you can’t handle yourself. They think, if her lawyers are afraid to let her answer questions, then she must be guilty.”