The Naked Typist sw-4

by Parnell Hall

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You further testified that while you spoke to her on the phone several times, you had not seen her since that day until you saw her here in court. Is that right?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Is it, Mr. Danby? I don’t think that’s true. I put it to you that you saw the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder, on June twenty-eighth, the day David Castleton met his death. Is that not a fact?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “You didn’t see the defendant on that day?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Really, Mr. Danby? Didn’t you testify that on June twenty-eighth you were present at a meeting between David Castleton and his grandfather in Milton Castleton’s apartment?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I believe you referred to it as a strategy session, programming him for his meeting with Kelly Wilder?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “What time did David Castleton leave the apartment?”

  “Six-thirty. As I’ve already testified.”

  “And after David Castleton left for his appointment with the defendant, what did you and Milton Castleton do then?”

  “Mr. Castleton was tired from the meeting and went off to bed. I went home to my apartment.”

  “You live alone, Mr. Danby?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then you can’t verify that, can you?”

  Danby shrugged. “I see no reason why I should.”

  “You know, Mr. Danby, I personally find that rather strange. Your going home, I mean. You knew David Castleton was going to be meeting with the defendant. You were eager to find out the defendant’s name, address, what she was up to. There was no reason to assume David Castleton would be able to get that out of her. I wonder why you would choose to go home and leave that entirely up to him.”

  “There’s nothing strange about that,” Danby said. “It simply wasn’t that important. We wanted to know what the defendant was up to, yes. But you have to remember, a settlement had already been made. This woman obviously intended to cause trouble of some kind or another, but as far as we were concerned, we’d taken care of it. We’d primed David to handle it. There was no reason to assume it was so important it couldn’t be entrusted to him. Now, if you don’t want to take my word for it, ask Milton Castleton and he’ll tell you the same thing. I did not involve myself personally at that point because it simply wasn’t that important.”

  Steve smiled. “It may not have been that important to Milton Castleton, but I submit, for reasons unknown to him, it may have been that important to you. You testified that you left Milton Castleton’s apartment and went straight home that evening?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I put it to you that you didn’t. Is it not a fact that after you left Milton Castleton’s apartment you went straight to the singles bar on Third Avenue and staked it out from across the street?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “I think it is. I think you arrived there shortly after David Castleton did. I think you looked through the window and saw him at the bar engaged in conversation with Marcie Keller, the woman who testified yesterday on the witness stand.

  “Which of course puzzled you. David Castleton was there for a particular purpose, and he wouldn’t be paying attention to any young woman unless she was the one coming on to him. Be that as it may, I think you then retreated from the window and continued to watch the bar from across the street. I think you were there when the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder, showed up. You saw her go in, and you saw her and David Castleton come out.

  “I think you tailed them to the restaurant Gino’s, waited outside while they had their dinner and then tailed them back to his apartment.

  “Where you ran into a strange situation. Two detectives were staking out the place. They didn’t see you because you saw them first and took pains to see that they didn’t.

  “And how did you spot them before they spotted you? For that matter, how did you spot them at all? Very simple. Because one of the detectives happened to be the young woman you had already seen talking to David Castleton in the bar. So you knew what they were, and you knew who they were there for. So you stayed out of sight, watched and waited.

  “And what happened? An hour later the defendant came out alone and walked back to her apartment. The detectives followed. You followed right behind. The defendant walked back to a brownstone apartment house and went inside. The detectives took up positions, staking it out. Minutes later, a light on the second-floor front window came on. You figured that was the best you could do. With the detectives watching, you couldn’t get close enough to read the bell. Not without being seen. But you noted down the address.

  “What did you do then? You went straight to David Castleton’s apartment. He was surprised to see you, of course. He hadn’t known you would be tagging along, because that wasn’t part of the plan. I don’t know what you told him, but probably something like his grandfather had sent you as an afterthought. At any rate, you told him you’d been there, tailed the defendant to her home and found out where she lived. You still didn’t have her name, but now at least you had her address.

  “You gave him that address. You told it to him and had him write it down. That was the address on the folded piece of paper in his pants pocket. That’s why he had only her address and not her name.

  “Then you questioned him. How did it go? What had he found out? What did she want?

  “What he said floored you. It was the worst of all. Exactly what you had feared. This woman had proof that Herbert Clay wasn’t guilty of the embezzlement. The proof was a computer disk of a memo, which you thought had long since been erased from the files. But here it was, come back to haunt you.

  “David Castleton showed it to you. Put the disk in and called it up on the computer. And there it was. The missing memo from Herbert Clay.

  “David Castleton was very excited about it. He was glad you were there. He couldn’t wait to tell everyone. He was going to tell his grandfather first thing in the morning.

  “Which was something you simply couldn’t allow.”

  Steve paused, looked up at the witness. “And that’s when you shot him, isn’t it, Mr. Danby?”

  Phil Danby appeared completely unruffled. If anything, his face showed the trace of a faint smile. “I most certainly did not.”

  “Oh, yes, you did. You shot him with Herbert Clay’s gun. The gun you found two years ago when you supervised the cleaning out of Herbert Clay’s desk, as you have already testified. It was right there, where Herbert Clay said it was. You found it and you took it. Probably well before his trial. You’d already framed him for embezzlement, but if that didn’t come off you wanted to be prepared to frame him for something else. I’m sure you never dreamed at the time it would eventually be used to frame his sister.”

  Steve smiled. “Which is ironic, Mr. Danby. Because you didn’t know she was his sister, did you? That was serendipity, wasn’t it? You had the gun merely because it was a weapon that could not be traced to you. The police could figure David Castleton had taken it from Herbert Clay’s desk and the murderer had picked it up in his apartment and used it. What a monumental stroke of luck it must have seemed to you when you found out the defendant and Herbert Clay were actually related.

  “But that’s what happened, isn’t it? You shot David Castleton, and you dropped the gun next to him on the floor. Then you took the computer disk and got out. As far as you were concerned, it was a perfect frame. Even if the gun couldn’t be traced to the defendant, there was enough evidence against her. You and Milton Castleton knew David had left to meet the defendant. Then there were the waiters, bartenders and cab drivers who could put them together. And the private detectives who could put her at the scene of the crime.

  “You killed him between a half hour to an hour after she left, but no medical determination of the time of death could be that precise. And, as expected, without actually altering the facts,
the medical examiner did everything possible to slant the time element in the prosecution’s favor.

  “There was only one more thing, one more gap you had to plug. The original computer disk. You left David Castleton’s apartment and went straight back to Kelly Clay Wilder’s.

  “The young woman detective was still on guard. She showed no signs of leaving. If she had, you might have broken in that night. As it was, you had to let it go. You went home, got what little sleep you could and reported to work the next morning at nine o’clock at Milton Castleton’s apartment. You were there when the police called to inform Milton Castleton of his grandson’s death.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened after that. But Milton Castleton would be demanding immediate police reports, and being Milton Castleton he would get them. So you would know almost immediately of Kelly Clay Wilder’s arrest. Some time after that and before I talked to the defendant and went to her apartment, you broke away from Castleton’s long enough to go there and get the computer disk. You had no problem finding it-the copy had been marked X dash one. It followed the original would be marked simply X. You found it, you took it, verified what it was and then destroyed it.

  “You did one more thing. You knew from what David Castleton had told you that Kelly Clay Wilder had found that memo in the backup system of the computer. You got into the backup system yourself, found the file and deleted it.

  “That’s what you did, didn’t you Mr. Danby?”

  Danby shook his head. “No, I did not.”

  “Yes, you did, Mr. Danby. Because everyone has a weakness. I’m not sure what yours is, but I would guess it’s the stock market. I assume you gambled with speculative stocks and got overextended, even for a man with your income. Which is why you embezzled from your employer and subsequently framed Herbert Clay for the crime. Which is why that memo was so devastating to you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Danby?”

  “No, it is not.”

  “Well, I happen to know that it is. You know how I happen to know?” Steve smiled. “Marcie Keller. Marcie Keller proves you did.”

  Phil Danby said nothing. His puzzled frown seemed quite genuine.

  “That surprises you, doesn’t it Mr. Danby? I thought it would. No, there is nothing in her testimony that implicates you. What implicates you is the fact she gave it at all.

  “See, here’s what happened. You had the perfect frame and everything was going fine. The prosecution was making a case, and you thought that would be that.

  “But then I put the defendant on the stand and she told her story. The story about the memo.

  “Which is when you panicked, Mr. Danby. The only time in the whole affair you lost your head and made a stupid move. But the bit about the memo scared you. You knew you’d erased it from the computer, but still hearing about it struck too close to home.

  “So you tried to guild the lily. To convict Kelly Clay Wilder. To give the prosecution everything they needed to clinch the case.

  “You phoned in an anonymous tip. A tip to the police to check out the Taylor Detective Agency for any young operatives, one male, one female, who might have had David Castleton under surveillance on the night of June twenty-eighth. The detective Dan Fuller has yet to be found, but they got Marcie Keller all right.” Steve smiled. “Probably wasn’t that hard, what with her being an actress. Probably just called SAG. Anyway, they found her and they put her on the stand.

  “Which is what gives you away, Mr. Danby. Because, aside from Mark Taylor and myself, no one, the defendant included, knew those detectives were there. The only way someone could have known was if he was there too. You fingered Marcie Keller, Mr. Danby. And that puts you at the scene of the crime.”

  Steve bored in. “You killed David Castleton, Mr. Danby. Deliberately, in cold blood. You did it to cover up an embezzlement for which you had framed an innocent man. You took Herbert Clay’s gun and you shot David Castleton dead. Didn’t you, Mr. Danby?”

  Danby’s look was almost amused, his smile ironic, mocking. “No, I did not,” he said.

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  The shrill voice cut through the courtroom like a knife. All heads turned to stare.

  On the aisle in the second row, Milton Castleton had struggled to his feet. With one hand he was gripping the back of the bench in front of him for dear life to hold himself up. With the other he was pointing a long, bony, accusing finger straight at his associate, Phil Danby.

  Everyone’s attention shifted from the pointing finger to the witness stand, where Phil Danby sat, where a transformation was taking place.

  Under Steve Winslow’s cross-examination Phil Danby had been calm, unruffled, hadn’t turned a hair. But under the accusing glare of his employer, Phil Danby began to wilt. He simply could not meet the eyes of that frail, old man. Danby’s eyes faltered, his face went pasty white, and he began to tremble.

  Then all at once he turned suddenly and vomited over the side of the witness stand.

  44

  Fitzpatrick couldn’t stop laughing. Whether it was genuine amusement, relief of nervous tension or perhaps embarrassment over the harsh things he’d said to Steve Winslow-most likely a combination of all three-the man had a pretty good case of the giggles.

  “It’s too much,” Fitzpatrick said. “It’s too much. I mean, I’m not sure this has a legal precedent. I mean, is throwing up on the witness stand considered an admission of guilt?”

  Steve Winslow was leaning back in his desk chair, utterly drained. Too tired to answer, he merely smiled.

  Fitzpatrick didn’t mind. He was hyped with nervous energy and on a roll. “And what does the court reporter write, that’s what I want to know? I’d like to get a look at the transcript. I mean, you get, ‘Question:’ ‘Answer:’ ‘Question:’ ‘Answer:’ Then you get, ‘Question: (from spectator): “You son of a bitch.” ‘ ‘Witness barfs.’ Is that what they write? ‘Witness barfs?’ Or do they write it phonetically? ‘Blaaaaah!’”

  Steve exhaled noisily, shook his head. “What a stroke of luck.”

  “Luck, hell,” Fitzpatrick said. “You knew it. You had him. You were right up and down the line.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Steve said. “I never could have touched him in a million years. All I had going for me was his fear of that old man.”

  Fitzpatrick’s grin faded. His eyes narrowed. “You played for that to happen?”

  “Yeah, I did. I knew I couldn’t break Danby myself. So I played to Castleton. Because I believed Kelly’s story, particularly what David told her. That Milton Castleton is fair, Milton Castleton is just, Milton Castleton wouldn’t let that happen.

  “And Milton Castleton loved his grandson. I knew if I could sell him, he’d do the rest.”

  Fitzpatrick shook his head. “Jesus Christ. A man like Danby, so afraid of a sick old man.”

  The door opened and Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin came in. “News from the front,” Taylor said. “Danby caved in. He’s making a full written confession.”

  “You’re kidding,” Steve said.

  Taylor shook his head. “Not at all. He’s comin’ clean. When his boss turned against him it broke him. The way I get it, he’d rather go to jail than have to face him.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Fitzpatrick said.

  “What about Kelly?” Steve said.

  “They released her. She’s probably on her way over now.”

  Steve sighed. “What a fucking relief.”

  “Tell me about it,” Taylor said.

  “They release Marcie too?”

  “Yeah,” Taylor said. “She just called. You’re not going to believe this.”

  “What? She wants her job back?”

  “Not at all. She called her answering service. With her performance on the stand and her picture in the morning papers, she’s had calls from talent agents from William Morris and ICM.”

  Steve grinned. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. A literal Hollywo
od ending. Looks like you cost me an operative.”

  “Or two. Any word from Dan Fuller?”

  “No. But from what Marcie says, after she read him the riot act he took off on a camping trip. I expect he’ll resurface after Danby’s confession hits the press.”

  “That’s good,” Steve said. “He was the joker in the piece, you know.”

  Taylor frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “What I said to Danby on the witness stand, about tipping Marcie Keller to the cops, about how that’s how I knew it was him. Well, it turned out I was right. But there was one other possibility. That was Dan Fuller got cold feet and phoned in the tip.”

  “Holy shit,” Taylor said.

  “Yeah,” Steve said. “Hadn’t happened, but that’s what I was gambling on.”

  “You were gambling on a lot,” Taylor said.

  “I know. I don’t feel good about it at all.”

  “So what’s the situation?” Taylor said. “With Marcie and me and you guys? What difference will Danby’s confession make?”

  “We’re off the hook,” Steve said.

  Taylor nodded. “You’ll pardon a second opinion, but, Fitzpatrick, is that right?”

  “Basically, yes,” Fitzpatrick said. “Aiding and abetting, accessory after that fact.” He shrugged. “You can’t aid and abet an innocent person. And Kelly Clay Wilder had nothing to do with the crime. You and your detectives didn’t have any knowledge about Phil Danby’s involvement in this affair, did you?”

  “No.”

  “There you are. Technically you still withheld evidence, but in the vernacular, who gives a shit?”

  “Dirkson won’t go after my license?”

  Fitzpatrick shook his head. “Dirkson wouldn’t dream of it. Dirkson wants to get this whole thing out of the press just as fast as he can.”

  Fitzpatrick stood up. “Well, I’d like to stick around until Kelly gets here, but I’m two weeks behind on my work. Make my apologies for me.”

  “Sure,” Steve said.

  Fitzpatrick took a breath, looked at Steve. “I said some rough things yesterday.”