The Naked Typist sw-4
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Dirkson was too shrewd to appear annoyed. He smiled, as if in appreciation of the answer. “Well said, Miss Keller. But I mean, are you working?”
“I did a Kojack last week.”
“Kojack? The TV show?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have a part in that, or was it extra work?”
“It was extra work.”
“That’s usually for a day, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You worked one day on that show?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then that job is over. Tell me, Miss Keller, do you have a job today?”
There was an edge in Marcie’s voice. “I had an audition today. Obviously I’m not going to make it.”
“I’m sorry about that, Miss Keller, but some things take precedence. Then you don’t have a job today?”
“No.”
“Have you had an acting job since last week’s Kojack?”
“No, I have not.”
Dirkson nodded. “I see. Miss Keller, actors and actresses often don’t have steady work. Many of them do other jobs-wait tables, drive taxis. Apart from your acting, do you have another job?”
“No, I do not.”
“You are not employed elsewhere at the present time?”
“No.”
Dirkson nodded. “Very well. Miss Keller, referring now to June twenty-eighth-did you have another job then?”
Marcie took a breath. “Yes, I did.”
“Oh really? And who was that job with?”
“The Taylor Detective Agency.”
“You were employed by the Taylor Detective Agency?”
“Yes, I was.”
“In what capacity?”
“As an investigator.”
Dirkson raised his eyebrows. “As a private detective?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
Dirkson smiled. “It’s not what I want to call it, Miss Keller. It’s what you want to call it. How would you describe your employment?”
“I was an operative of the agency.”
“An operative?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do as an operative?”
“Whatever I was told.”
“Very commendable, Miss Keller. And who was your employer at the agency?”
“Mark Taylor.”
“Mark Taylor? The head of the Taylor Detective Agency?”
“That’s right.”
“You took your orders from him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Very good, Miss Keller. Now, referring once again to the date June twenty-eighth-did Mark Taylor give you any instructions on that date.”
“Objection to anything this witness was told to do by a third party,” Steve said.
“Sustained.”
In the back of the courtroom Tracy Garvin squeezed Mark Taylor’s arm. Mark Taylor looked positively sick. Tracy Garvin had been keeping up a good front, but Steve Winslow’s objection cut through her like a knife. This wasn’t the Steve Winslow she knew, the heroic figure, standing up, battling insurmountable odds and letting the chips fall where they may. No, the objection was that of a desperate man fending off body blows, trying to keep the damning evidence out. Tracy’s stomach felt hollow.
“Very well,” Dirkson said, unruffled at having the objection sustained. “Never mind what you were told. Let’s talk about what you did. First off, are you familiar with the decedent, David Castleton?”
Marcie took a breath. “Yes, I am.”
“Did you see the decedent, David Castleton, on June twenty-eighth?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Where did you see him?”
“Outside Castleton Industries.”
“On the street?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing?”
“Walking.”
Dirkson frowned. “I’d like a little better answer than that, Miss Keller. Do you mean to say you were standing outside Castleton Industries and you saw David Castleton come out the front door?”
“Objection. Leading.”
“The witness is obviously hostile, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Leading questions should be permitted.”
“So ruled,” Judge Wallingsford snapped. “Objection overruled. Witness will answer.”
“Is that right, Miss Keller? You were there and saw David Castleton come out the door?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Had you ever seen him before, Miss Keller?”
“No, I had not.”
“That was the first time you had ever seen David Castleton?”
“That’s right.”
“Then tell me, how did you recognize him, Miss Keller?”
Marcie hesitated. “I had seen his picture.”
“His picture?”
“Yes. His photograph.”
“Oh? And what kind of photograph was that?”
“It was a newspaper photo.”
“I see,” Dirkson said. “Tell me, who gave you that photo?”
“Mark Taylor.”
“Mark Taylor? The head of the Taylor Detective Agency?”
“Objection. Already asked and answered.”
“Overruled.”
“Yes.”
“Mark Taylor gave you a photograph of the decedent, David Castleton?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And did you have that photograph with you when you were standing on the street outside Castleton Industries when you saw David Castleton come out?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you look at the photograph at that time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what time was that?”
“Five o’clock.”
“Five o’clock in the afternoon?”
“That’s right.”
“I see,” Dirkson said. “And what did David Castleton do?”
“He walked up the street.”
“Up Third Avenue?”
“That’s right.”
“And what did you do?”
“I followed him.”
“You followed David Castleton?”
“That’s right.”
“Was that as a result of instructions you received for your job?”
“Objection. Hearsay.”
Judge Wallingsford frowned. “Sustained.”
“Where did David Castleton go?”
“Up Third Avenue, over to Fifth Avenue and into a building.”
“David Castleton went into a building on Fifth Avenue?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Did you follow him in?”
“No, I did not.”
“What was the address of that building?”
“I don’t recall.”
“You can’t recall the address?”
“No.”
“Then let me ask you this. Did the address of that building mean anything to you at the time? In other words, had you been told the address of that building and been told anyone lived there?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
Dirkson frowned. Thought a moment. “Let’s do it another way. Miss Keller, at the time you were following David Castleton, did you have a pocket notebook with you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Was the address of the building David Castleton went into written in your pocket notebook before you followed him to that address?”
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
Marcie took a breath. “Yes, it was.”
“Then that address had special significance for you?”
“Objection. Argumentative. Calls for a conclusion.”
“Overruled.”
“I was familiar with the address.”
“Had you ever been there before?”
“No.”
“But you had it written in your notebook?”
“Yes.”
“Then answer me this. Did you have the name of an
yone who lived there written in your notebook?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And who was that?”
“Milton Castleton.”
“Milton Castleton? The grandfather of David Castleton?”
“That’s right.”
“So,” Dirkson said. “You followed David Castleton from Castleton Industries to his grandfather’s address?”
“That’s right.”
Dirkson turned and smiled at the jury, as if to show what an ordeal it had been to establish that one simple fact. “Well, Miss Keller. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“What time was it when David Castleton reached his grandfather’s apartment building?”
“About five-thirty.”
“When he went inside, what did you do?”
“I waited on the sidewalk.”
“Until he came out?”
“Yes.”
“What time was that?”
“About six-thirty.”
“Where did he go?”
“He walked back across town to Third Avenue and down to a singles bar.”
“You followed him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you go into the bar?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did David Castleton do in the singles bar?”
“He sat at the bar and ordered a drink.”
“I see. And did you order a drink?”
“Yes, I did.”
Dirkson smiled. “I see. Now tell me, Miss Keller, did there come a time when you spoke to David Castleton?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Tell me. How did that happen?”
“I was standing next to him at the bar.”
“What were you doing?”
“Ordering a drink.”
“Another drink?”
“Yes.”
“When you ordered your first drink, were you standing next to him?”
“No, I was at the other end of the bar.”
“I see. You drank that, then moved down the bar and stood next to David Castleton to order another?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s when you spoke to him?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Tell me, who started the conversation, you or him?”
“I did.”
“Tell me, Miss Keller, why did you speak to David Castleton?”
“To find out what he was doing.”
“That was your job?”
“Objection to what the witness was instructed to do.”
Judge Wallingsford took a breath. “Mr. Dirkson, there’s a fine line here. Let’s not cross it. The objection is sustained.”
“Very well, Your Honor. What did you and the decedent talk about?”
“About his job.”
“His job at Castleton Industries?”
“Yes.”
“Did you talk about your job?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you tell him your job was?”
“I told him I was an actress.”
Dirkson smiled. “Which is the same thing you told the court.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Now, let me ask you this. Are you familiar with the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Did you see the defendant Kelly Clay Wilder on June twenty-eighth?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Where did you see her?”
“She came into the singles bar.”
“The one where you were talking to David Castleton?”
“That’s right.”
“Were you talking to David Castleton at the time?”
“Yes, I was.”
“What happened then?”
“He saw her come in, and got up and met her at the door.”
“What did you do?”
“I went to the telephone.”
“The telephone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you make a telephone call?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Who did you call?”
“The agency.”
“The Taylor Detective Agency?”
“That’s right.”
“Who did you talk to?”
“No one. Well, actually, just the receptionist. Then I hung up.”
“Why?”
Marcie took a breath. “Because I saw them start to leave.”
“David Castleton and Kelly Clay Wilder?”
“That’s right.”
“So what did you do?”
“I followed them.”
“Out of the bar?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened then?”
“By the time I got outside they were gone.”
“I see,” Dirkson said. “Tell me. You say you saw the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder, come into the bar?”
“That’s right.”
“Had you ever seen her before?”
“No, I hadn’t.”
“Had you seen a picture of her?”
“No.”
“Then how did you recognize her?”
“I didn’t recognize her.”
“Then how did you know it was her?”
“I didn’t know it at the time. I know it now because I see her here in court.”
Dirkson frowned. “You didn’t know the woman who came into the bar was Kelly Clay Wilder?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you suspect it was Kelly Clay Wilder?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Now, when you got outside the bar and discovered David Castleton and Kelly Clay Wilder weren’t there, what did you do?”
“I returned to the Taylor Detective Agency.”
“Did you see anyone there?”
“Yes. Mark Taylor.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“Yes.”
“Who was that?”
“Steve Winslow.”
“Steve Winslow? The defendant’s attorney?”
“That’s right.”
“You spoke with them?”
“That’s right.”
“After you spoke with them what did you do?”
Marcie raised her voice. “Well, Mark Taylor had instructed me to go home, but-”
“Objection,” Dirkson said. “You already ruled this witness can’t testify as to what she was instructed to do.”
Judge Wallingsford smiled. “She can’t be compelled to, but if she wants to volunteer it, that’s another matter. Are you asking that the remark be stricken?”
“No, let’s get on with it. Miss Keller, regardless of what you were instructed to do, when you left the Taylor Detective Agency, what did you do?”
“I went to an address on East Seventy-fourth Street.”
“What address was that?”
“I can’t recall exactly.”
“Was this an address you had written in your notebook?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Whose address was it?”
“The address of David Castleton.”
“You went to that address and what did you do?”
“I waited outside the building.”
“What were you waiting for?”
“To see if David Castleton would show up.”
“I see. Tell me. Was there anyone else waiting with you?”
“Yes, there was.”
“And who was that?”
“Dan Fuller.”
“Oh? And did you know this person?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How did you know him?”
“We worked together.”
“For the Taylor Detective Agency?”
“That’s right.”
“I see. So the two of you waited there together?”
“That’s right.”
“You were waiting to see if D
avid Castleton would show up?”
“That’s right.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, he did.”
“What time was that?”
“Approximately ten-thirty.”
“How did he arrive?”
“By taxi.”
“Was anyone with him?”
“Yes.”
“Who was that?”
“The defendant.”
“You saw them get out of the taxi together?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“They went into the building.”
“You saw them go in?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Could you see what happened after they went into the building?”
“Yes, I could.”
“And what was that?”
“They went into the elevator.”
“The doors closed?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, did you see David Castleton again that night?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you see the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder again that night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what time was that?”
“It was eleven-thirty.”
“And where did you see her?”
“She came out of the elevator and walked out of the building.”
“Out of David Castleton’s building?”
“That’s right.”
“Where did she go?”
“She walked across town to an address on Eighty-eighth Street.”
“You followed her?”
“Yes, I did.”
“The other detective-Dan Fuller-did he follow her too?”
“Yes, he did.”
“You both followed the defendant?”
“That’s right.”
“To this address on Eighty-eighth Street?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“The defendant went in.”
“What did you do?”
“I stayed and watched the building.”
“For how long?”
“All night.”
Dirkson’s surprise was genuine. “All night?”
“Yes.”
“Till when?”
“Nine thirty the next morning.”
“And how did you happen to leave?”
“Dan Fuller came, told me to go home.”
“He hadn’t stayed all night?”
“No, he’d gone home about one.”
“And he came back at nine-thirty?”
“That’s right.”
“And that’s when you went home?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Tell me this. After you went home that morning-on the day of June twenty-ninth-did you meet with Mark Taylor of the Taylor Detective Agency and Steve Winslow, the attorney for Kelly Clay Wilder?”