SW04 - The Naked Typist

by Parnell Hall

  “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.”

  Kelly bit her lip.

  “So you see what you’re up against,” Steve said. “We’re taking a gamble on you. We’re gambling that your story about the computer disk is true. If it is, then telling your story is the only way to play it. But if it’s not, god help you.”

  Kelly took a breath. “It’s true. Every word of it.”

  “You left the computer disk with David Castleton?”

  “Yes, I did.

  “And you never told him your right name?”

  “No.”

  “And you never told him your address?”

  “No.” Kelly frowned. “Would it be better if I said I did?”

  “What?” Steve said.

  “They found my address written down in his pocket. So if I say I didn’t give it to him, they’ll think I’m lying. So should I say I did?”

  “Did you give him your address?”

  “No.”

  Steve took a breath. There was an edge in his voice. “Do you understand what I just told you? If they catch you in the smallest lie, you’re through. Now you ask me if you should tell a lie because it would sound better. And I have to wonder how much of the story you told us is really true.”

  “It’s all true. I swear it.”

  “Then get that stupid idea out of your head. If you say you gave him your address, you’ll have to answer a million questions about why you did it. And you don’t have the answers, so you can’t do it, and Dirkson will eat you alive. You tell the truth, you tell the whole truth, or you don’t tell it at all.

  “You got that?”

  Kelly exhaled. “Yes,” she said.

  But she didn’t look happy.

  38.

  IT WENT WELL.

  When Fitzpatrick stood up and called the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder, to the stand, it caused a buzz of excitement in the courtroom. This was going to be good. The defendant had never told her story to the police, to the press, to the public. Now they were finally going to get to hear it. The mystery woman, the beautiful young defendant, the woman whose name had been on the front page of the papers for days, the woman who had held down the bizarre job of typing nude for a multimillionaire, was finally going to speak. As she took the stand, the jurors were actually leaning forward in their chairs in anticipation.

  And she was good. She told her story simply and directly in a clear, calm voice. And for the most part, she kept the bitterness out. As a result, her story came through.

  Her brother had gone to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. It was up to her to get him out. These were the steps she had taken to do that.

  She told of meeting her brother in jail, of trying to jog his memory to find anything that might help to clear his name.

  The mention of the memo caused quite a stir. It was the first the jurors had ever heard of it. It sparked their interest. The defendant’s actions, almost incomprehensible up till now, suddenly took focus. Perhaps there was a reason for what she did.

  Fitzpatrick led her skillfully through the next part of her testimony. How she tried to figure out a way to get inside Castleton Industries. How she learned Milton Castleton was having his memoirs typed. How she saw the ad in the Times, applied for the job, and her subsequent interview with Phil Danby. And how she learned the job would require her typing nude.

  She was good here too. She didn’t duck the issue, she met it head on. She didn’t want to work nude, she found it distasteful and demeaning, but she felt she had to do it to help her brother.

  Fitzpatrick, conservative, kind, sympathetic, set just the right tone. And that difficult phase of her testimony came off without a hitch.

  She told of using her terminal to tap into the main computer. Of searching Fax-log for the memo and finding it had been erased. Of searching the backup system and finding it.

  That made quite a sensation. Some of the jurors were actually listening openmouthed to the rest of it. Of her copying the memo onto a floppy disk and hiding it in her purse. Of Danby surprising her and chasing her from the apartment. Of her attorney retrieving the purse and her finding the floppy disk still there.

  And finally, her meeting with David Castleton.

  “Now let me make no mistake about this,” Fitzpatrick said. “You met with David Castleton, just as the prosecution said you did?”

  “Yes, I did,” Kelly said.

  “You met at a singles bar on Third Avenue, you went by taxi to a restaurant called Gino’s and proceeded to have dinner?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Over dinner you told him what you actually wanted?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you tell him who you were?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “He had no idea you were Herbert Clay’s sister?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “But he knew you were interested in the case?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then why did you go to his apartment?”

  “To show him the memo.”

  “The memo you found in the Fax-log backup file in Milton Castleton’s computer?”

  “That’s right.”

  “The memo you claim was sent to Milton Castleton by your brother, Herbert Clay?”

  “Yes.”

  “How were you going to show it to him?”

  “I had the floppy disk with me.”

  “You had it with you?”

  “Yes. It was in my purse.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “No, I did not. I only asked him if he had a computer. When he said he did, I asked him questions to find out if it was IBM compatible.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “There are different kinds of computers. The floppy disk I had was for an IBM-compatible machine. It would only play on one of those.”

  “I see. And was his IBM-compatib
le?”

  “Yes. I figured it would be. He would naturally want to have a computer that was compatible with his grandfather’s, so he could transfer data back and forth.”

  “I see. And when you learned he had an IBM-compatible computer, what did you do?”

  “I told him I wanted to go to his apartment.”

  “Did you tell him why?”

  “No.”

  “Did you go?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “What time was that?”

  “It was about ten-fifteen when we left the restaurant.”

  “How did you get to his apartment?”

  “In a cab.”

  “Did the cab take you right to the door?”

  “Yes, it did. David gave the cabdriver his address.”

  “What time did the cab let you out?”

  “Around ten-thirty.”

  “You went up to David Castleton’s apartment around ten-thirty?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “I asked him to show me his computer.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Then what?”

  “He switched it on. I put the floppy disk in and I called up the memo.”

  “You showed the memo to David Castleton?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did he read it?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “What was his reaction?”

  “Objection,” Dirkson said, then seeing the looks of exasperation on the jurors’ faces at this unwelcome interruption, said “Withdrawn.”

  “What was his reaction?” Fitzpatrick repeated.

  “He was floored,” Kelly said. “He couldn’t believe it.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Yes. In exactly those words. He said, ‘I can’t believe it.’”

  Fitzpatrick frowned. “ ‘I can’t believe it’ is a colloquial phrase expressing surprise. Did you understand David Castleton to mean that he actually didn’t believe that this was a memo—”

  “Objection,” Dirkson said.

  “Sustained.”

  “Miss Wilder, did David Castleton make any other comments about the memo?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He was shocked.”

  “Objection. Not responsive to the question.”

  “Overruled. You can cross-examine on it. Go on, Miss Wilder.”

  Kelly took a breath. “Well, he was shocked. He said he couldn’t believe that this had happened. He said his grandfather couldn’t possibly have known about this, because his grandfather wouldn’t have allowed it. And he couldn’t imagine how this could have happened without his grandfather knowing about it. Because his grandfather was on top of everything. That’s why he was shocked.”

  “I see,” Fitzpatrick said. “Tell me, Miss Wilder, did he express any doubt about the memo?”

  “Doubt?”

  “Yes. Regarding its authenticity. Was he skeptical? About what it was and where it had come from?”

  Kelly hesitated. “Well, actually he did. In fact, he was quite skeptical at first. He asked me a lot of questions about the memo. About how I found it, about how I knew it was there, how I knew where to look for it.”

  “How did you answer those questions?”

  “Well, you have to understand. David Castleton didn’t know what you know. He didn’t know I was Herbert Clay’s sister. He didn’t know I’d spoken to him in jail.”

  “What did he know? What did you tell him?”

  “I told him he’d have to take me on faith. I told him that I had access to this information and had reason to believe it to be true.”

  “Did that satisfy him?”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “What did?”

  “Objection. There’s no testimony that David Castleton was satisfied.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Were you able to satisfy him?”

  “Not entirely. But I gave him an argument that he didn’t have an answer to.”

  “What was that?”

  “If what I told him wasn’t true, why else would I have taken that despicable job?”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “He had no answer. I think he believed me.”

  “Objection. Move to strike.”

  “Overruled.”

  “What did he do then?”

  “Well, he was very upset.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the implications. If Herbert hadn’t embezzled that money, then someone else had.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Did he say who that might be?”

  “No.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said the whole thing made no sense to him. That Herbert Clay was the most likely suspect. That there was evidence Herbert liked to play the ponies, and for him to take the money was only logical. If he hadn’t, it opened up disturbing possibilities.”

  “Why were they disturbing?”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Did he say why they were disturbing?”

  “Yes, he did. He said he was Herbert’s immediate superior. If Herbert hadn’t taken the money, the most likely person would be himself.”

  “Did he say he had?”

  “No, he most emphatically said he had not.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t want to believe him, but I did.”

  “Why didn’t you want to believe him?”

  “Because he was the most likely person. He was the one I had suspected from the beginning. I knew it wasn’t Herbert, so I thought it had to be him. But he said it wasn’t him and I believe him. Particularly in light of what happened next.”

  “What was that?”

  “He was murdered.”

  “I see. Tell me, did you discuss with him who it might have been? The embezzler, I mean?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Well, what did you say?”

  “ I asked him who his immediate superior was in the company.”

  “And did he tell you?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “And who did he tell you his immediate superior was?”

  “His father, Stanley Castleton.”

  This produced a reaction in the courtroom. Judge Wallingsford banged the gavel.

  “What did you do then?” Fitzpatrick asked.

  “We talked about it some more. David promised me he’d get to the bottom of this. He told me he’d take it to Milton Castleton first thing in the morning.”

  “When you say ‘take it,’ what do you mean?”

  “The whole thing. What I just told you. Oh, I see. And the floppy disk. The one with the memo.”

  “You left that with him?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “You trusted him with it?”

  “It was a copy. I still had the original.”

  “You left a copy with him?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How was the copy marked?”

  “It was marked X dash one in gold pen on the top of the disk.”

  “You left that disk with David Castleton?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What time was it when you left his apartment?”

  “Eleven-thirty.”

  When she said that, there was an air of anticipation in the courtroom. Her testimony was obviously winding down. The moment everyone had been waiting for was about to arrive. This beautiful, young defendant was about to be cross-examined by Harry Dirkson.

  No one was looking forward to that moment more than Harry Dirkson himself. This marked the first time he had ever had a chance to cross-examine one of Steve Winslow’s clients on the witness stand. Always before, Winslow had managed to maneuver things to prevent him from doing so. But not t
his time. The defendant was on the stand, she was Dirkson’s meat, and nothing was going to save her.

  Dirkson shifted restlessly in his chair. He couldn’t wait to get a crack at her.

  “Now,” Fitzpatrick said, “when you left David Castleton’s apartment at eleven-thirty that night, was he alive?”

  “He most certainly was.”

  “And you left with him a floppy disk marked X dash one containing the memo you claim was written to Milton Castleton by your brother, Herbert Clay?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And where was the original floppy disk? The one you used to copy the memo from Milton Castleton’s computer?”

  “In a box of floppy disks in my apartment.”

  “And was it marked?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “With a gold X.”

  “Do you know where that floppy disk is now?”

  “No, I do not. I asked my attorney, Steve Winslow, to get it for me, and he informed me it is not there.”

  “Objection. Hearsay.”

  “Sustained. That remark will go out.”

  “I see,” Fitzpatrick said. “But to the best of your knowledge, the original memo from which you copied the floppy disk still exists in the backup file in Milton Castleton’s computer?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Thank you. That’s all.”

  With the announcement, spectators burst out talking. Judge Wallingsford banged for quiet.

  Dirkson rose to his feet.

  But before Dirkson could cross over to the defendant, Steve Winslow stood up and said, “Your Honor, at this point I have a motion which must be made outside the presence of the jury.”

  Dirkson stopped in midstride. His face darkened. “Your Honor, I object. This is completely out of order. The defendant is on the stand, and I am about to cross-examine. The defense has no right to make a motion now.”

  “Your Honor, I ask to be heard,” Steve said. “Not only is my motion in order, but by its very nature it is a motion that can only be made now.”

  “Nonsense,” Dirkson said. “Your Honor, this is a stalling tactic. To keep me from cross-examining the defendant. I insist that—”

  Judge Wallingsford’s gavel cut him off. “Mr. Dirkson, that will do. Whatever the actual case, this will not be argued in the presence of the jury. Bailiff, will you please show the jury to the jury room.”

  Dirkson fumed in silence while the jurors were led out. As soon as the door closed, he wheeled around. “Your Honor,” he said angrily “this is exactly what I object to. Just by arguing this motion, counsel is accomplishing his purpose. Which is to prevent me from cross-examining the defendant. Which it is both my right and duty to do. I ask that you cite Mr. Winslow for misconduct.”