The Underground Man sw-3

by Parnell Hall

The phone rang.

  “Probably our friend again,” Steve said.

  “You want me to get it?” Tracy said. “Or just pretend we’re not here?”

  “Can’t do that,” Steve said. He pointed to the phone.

  Tracy picked it up. “Mr. Winslow’s office.” She listened a moment, said, “It’s for you,” and passed the phone over to Mark Taylor.

  Taylor said, “Taylor here,” listened a moment, said, “Are you sure?” then said, “Shit,” and hung up.

  Taylor shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what you tell that reporter now.”

  “Oh yeah?” Steve said.

  “Yeah. His story just got knocked off the front page.”

  “How come?”

  “I been busting’ my chops tryin’ to find someone who saw Jeremy Dawson in Teaneck that night.”

  “You found one?”

  “No, but the cops did.”

  “And?”

  Taylor shook his head. “And it’s the worst. This comes straight from headquarters. The cops got a witness saw Jeremy Dawson seven o’clock that night breaking into the high school to get the gun.”

  39

  Jeremy Dawson looked worried when the court officers led him in. As soon as he sat down, he leaned over to Steve Winslow. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I hear talk. The cops got a witness.”

  “Yeah, they do.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Some guy saw you breaking into the high school that night.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Hey, it’s not the end of the world. Sit tight and remember our deal.”

  “But-”

  “No buts, you do it. Sit back, relax, and above all, no matter what happens you don’t grab my arm.”

  Judge Grimes entered, called the court to order.

  When the jurors had been brought in and seated, Harry Dirkson rose with the confidence of a man who has every ace in the deck.

  First he called Mark Taylor’s photographer and established the fact that Defense Exhibit A-2 was indeed a picture of Jeremy Dawson.

  Then he called Claire Chesterton, who testified to the fact that Jeremy Dawson had not returned home until after midnight on the night of the murder.

  After that, Dirkson moved in for the kill. He called one of the officers who had taken Jeremy Dawson’s statement the day he’d been arrested. Dirkson first established that the officer had indeed read Jeremy Dawson his rights, and that Jeremy Dawson had been cautioned that anything he said could be used against him. The officer then testified that he had asked Jeremy Dawson where he was on the night of February 26th, and Jeremy had told him he went to an eight-o’clock showing of the movie, Heathers in Teaneck.

  Steve Winslow did not cross-examine.

  For his next witness, Dirkson called Tom Randell, a pimply-faced high school student, who testified to having gone to the movie, Heathers, the previous Saturday night.

  “And did you see anyone there you knew?” Dirkson asked.

  “Yes, sir. I saw Jeremy Dawson.”

  “You know Jeremy Dawson?”

  “Sure. I know him from school.”

  “Are you sure he was there that night?”

  “Absolutely. I was in back of him in the popcorn line.”

  “Are you sure it was Jeremy Dawson?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “There must have been other kids from your high school at the movie. How is it you happened to recognize him?”

  The witness smiled. “Couldn’t miss him. He had green hair.”

  Dirkson smiled back. “That’s all.”

  “No questions,” Steve Winslow said.

  That drew a murmur from the spectators in the courtroom, who were surprised to see such damaging testimony go unchallenged.

  Harry Dirkson was somewhat surprised too. He shot Steve Winslow a look before saying, “Call Martin Steers.”

  Martin Steers turned out to be a frail, elderly man with a cane. He made his way slowly to the witness stand, raised his hand and took the oath.

  “Your name is Martin Steers?” Dirkson said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Would you speak up a little, Mr. Steers, so the jurors can hear you?”

  “Sorry,” Steers said. He raised his voice. “Yes, my name is Martin Steers.”

  “Where do you live, Mr. Steers?”

  “In Teaneck, New Jersey.”

  “Can you tell me where you were on the night of February 26th?”

  “I was walking home from the store.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Around seven o’clock.”

  “Did you see anything out of the ordinary at that time?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And what was that?”

  Steers took a breath. “I was walking past the high school. The store is a block past the high school. It’s on one side. My house is on the other. I always have to walk past the high school to get to the store.”

  “Yes?” Dirkson prompted.

  “So I’d been to the store, and I was walking back with my groceries when I saw him.”

  “Saw who?”

  “A boy.”

  “A boy?”

  “Yes. A young boy. You know, a teenager.”

  “And what was the boy doing?”

  “He was going into the high school.”

  “You mean through the front door?”

  Martin Steers shook his head. “No, no. Not the front door. Through the other door on the side.”

  “The service door?”

  “I don’t know what it’s used for. But it’s not the front door.”

  “How did the boy open the door?”

  “I don’t know. He was some distance away. I saw him fiddling with the lock, then I saw him pull the door open and go inside.”

  “Did he have a key?”

  “He might have. I couldn’t tell. It was too far away.”

  “I see. Are you sure of this?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why are you so sure of it? Why did you notice it in particular at the time?”

  “Because it was strange. Seven o’clock at night. For someone to be going into the high school then. The high school’s closed at night.”

  “I see. Tell me, Mr. Steers. Did you report this to the police?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t know if I should.” He shrugged. “I’m an old man. What do I know? I mean, maybe the boy’s an equipment manager for one of the teams. Or maybe he has a job at night, he cleans the blackboards and sweeps the floors. I mean, how should I know?”

  Dirkson nodded. “I see, Mr. Steers. But you did notice particularly the boy going into the school at that time?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And would you know this boy if you saw him again?”

  “As I told you, I would not. He was too far away, and his back was to me.”

  “I see,” Dirkson said. “But tell me this. Was there anything about the boy you noticed, anything that would help you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  The witness nodded. “One thing.”

  “And what was that?” Dirkson said.

  “He had green hair.”

  There was a murmur in the courtroom.

  Dirkson smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Steers.” He turned to Steve Winslow. “Your witness.”

  As Steve Winslow rose, he could feel the focus in the courtroom shift to him, could tell that the spectators sensed that this was going to be good. The witness had not identified Jeremy Dawson. The witness was an elderly man with glasses, whose eyesight was probably not good, and who had admittedly only seen the boy from the back and at a distance. Plus, the witness had not seen fit to report the incident to the police, but was now attempting to portray it as something significant and suspicious. The presumption in the courtroom, Steve knew, was that he would tear the witness apart.
/>   Steve didn’t. He smiled and bowed. “No questions,” he said, and sat down.

  That produced a big reaction in the courtroom. Heads turning, people talking. Judge Grimes had to bang the gavel twice.

  “Order in the court,” Judge Grimes said. “The witness is excused.”

  There was a brief delay while Martin Steers made his way from the courtroom. Then Judge Grimes said, “Call your next witness, Mr. Dirkson.”

  Dirkson stood up. He bowed, smiled. “The People rest, Your Honor.”

  That produced an excited murmur in the court. Reporters scribbled furiously.

  Judge Grimes banged the gavel again. “Very well. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we have now completed the first phase of the testimony. The prosecution has rested its case. We will now be hearing from the defense.” Judge Grimes turned to Steve Winslow. “Mr. Winslow, the trial has progressed rapidly, and I am aware that the prosecution resting at this point may have taken you somewhat by surprise. Under the circumstances, I am prepared to grant you a continuance until tomorrow morning, if that is satisfactory to you.”

  “I don’t want it, Your Honor,” Steve said.

  Judge Grimes frowned. “You don’t want a continuance?”

  “No, Your Honor,” Steve said. “I am not requesting a continuance at this time. If the court please, I would like to state my position with regard to a continuance. I would like to point out that the defendant in this case, Jeremy Dawson, has not been released on bail. He is incarcerated for the duration of the trial. Under the circumstances, I feel that the interests of justice demand that the trial proceed with all due speed. Therefore, I am not asking for a continuance just because the prosecution has rested its case.

  “But out of fairness to the defendant, at this time I would ask Harry Dirkson if he would stipulate that the prosecution will not ask for a continuance after I have rested my case. I feel it only fair to the defendant to do so.”

  Judge Grimes frowned. He turned to Dirkson. “Mr. Dirkson, are you willing to make that stipulation?”

  Harry Dirkson rose. He hesitated for a moment, glanced suspiciously at Steve Winslow. It was such a simple request, Dirkson didn’t want to seem hesitant about granting it.

  But Dirkson had dealt with Steve Winslow before. And he was well aware of Winslow’s flair for the unorthodox.

  Dirkson took a breath. “I would certainly like to agree, Your Honor. But I represent the people of New York, and their interests must be served. Opposing counsel, Your Honor, has a flair for the dramatic. In the event that Mr. Winslow should introduce some new evidence in this case which I had not anticipated and for which I was not prepared, I would naturally need time to deal with it. Therefore I cannot make that stipulation.”

  “That seems fair and reasonable, Your Honor,” Steve said. “And quite understandable. Therefore, I’m prepared to stipulate that if I bring out anything in my part of the case for which the District Attorney is unprepared, I will release him from the stipulation and consent to a continuance. And as I believe him to be fair, I will take him at his word. If he can point to any fact at all that I have brought out, no matter how trivial, that he is unprepared for and would like to research, I will not challenge it, and I will consent to any reasonable continuance the court should care to grant.”

  Judge Grimes nodded. “Mr. Dirkson,” he said. “With that provision, would you care to stipulate?”

  Dirkson ran his hand over his head. “Yes, Your Honor. With that provision, yes. I have several rebuttal witnesses ready, and I am quite prepared to proceed. I am merely reluctant to do anything that would bind me in the event of the unexpected.”

  “But in the light of Mr. Winslow’s stipulation, you are also willing to stipulate?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. Those matters are considered so stipulated. Now, Mr. Winslow. I take it, you are prepared to proceed?”

  “I am, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. Now then. You reserved your opening argument at the beginning of the trial. Do you wish to make it now?”

  “I do not, Your Honor,” Steve said. “I think the facts are self-evident, and I’m willing to let them speak for themselves. I waive my opening argument.”

  Judge Grimes frowned. “Very well. You may proceed with your case. Call your first witness.”

  Steve Winslow smiled and bowed. “I have no witnesses, Your Honor. The defense rests.”

  40

  There was a moment of stunned silence in the courtroom. No one could quite believe what they’d just heard. Judge Grimes blinked twice, and his jaw actually dropped open.

  Harry Dirkson lunged to his feet. “What?!” he roared incredulously.

  That opened the floodgates. Suddenly the court was in an uproar as everyone began talking at once.

  Judge Grimes recovered, banged the gavel furiously. Even so, it took several minutes to get the courtroom quieted down.

  When order was restored, Judge Grimes said, “Mr. Winslow, did I hear you correctly? You are resting your case?”

  “That’s right, Your Honor. The defense rests. Let’s proceed with the closing arguments.”

  Harry Dirkson could hardly contain himself. He was puffing furiously and his face was bright red. ‘Your Honor, Your Honor,” he cried. “This is why I didn’t want to stipulate. This is exactly what I was talking about. This comes as a complete surprise. I demand a continuance.”

  Steve Winslow raised his voice. “Now, Your Honor,” he said, “this is the very thing I sought to avoid. The prosecutor stipulated he wouldn’t ask for a continuance, and here he is asking for one.”

  “Mr. Dirkson,” Judge Grimes said. “I thought you agreed to stipulate.”

  “I was tricked into stipulating, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “It was a trick on the part of Counsel. It has taken me completely by surprise, and the interests of the People demand a continuance. Mr. Winslow himself stated that I could have one if I was taken by surprise.”

  “Not so, Your Honor,” Steve said. “My stipulation was if Mr. Dirkson could point to one fact that I have brought out for which he was unprepared I would not object to a continuance. Since I have brought out no facts at all, he obviously cannot do that. The interests of my client demand that the trial proceed. I ask that Mr. Dirkson be bound by his stipulation.”

  “Mr. Dirkson,” Judge Grimes said. “I must consider the stipulation binding. Are you prepared to proceed?”

  “As I said, I have several rebuttal witnesses, Your Honor.”

  Judge Grimes smiled slightly. “But as the defense has put on no case, there is nothing to rebut.”

  “But, Your Honor-”

  Judge Grimes held up his hand. “That is a moot point, Mr. Dirkson. The evidentiary part of the case is over. We have come to the closing arguments. Are you prepared to proceed with yours?”

  Dirkson paused, took a breath. It had finally occurred to him that he was losing on all fronts, and all he was accomplishing was making himself look bad.

  “I had not expected to argue the case so soon, Your Honor, but I am certainly prepared to do so.”

  “I will of course grant you a brief recess to prepare your summation. In fact, since that will run us close to the lunch hour, I am going to break now, and we will come back after lunch. Court is adjourned until two o’clock.”

  Judge Grimes’s gavel had barely sounded when newspaper reporters were already tripping over each other in their haste to get out the door.

  41

  Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin pushed their way through the crowd.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Taylor said.

  “Relax,” Steve said. “Just act like everything was going according to plan. Try not to look like you think I’m a moron until we get out the door.”

  Steve took Mark and Tracy by the shoulders and turned and piloted them out of the courtroom. On the way he kept smiling and mouthing ‘No comment,’ to the few reporters foolish enough to think they might actually get a quote.
Outside, they broke away from the crowd and headed for the coffee shop for lunch.

  “All right,” Taylor said. “We’re out of earshot. What the hell is going on?”

  “There’s nothing going on,” Steve said. “I rested my case.”

  “Damnit,” Tracy said, grabbing him by the arm. “Now stop right there. I know you get some perverse pleasure out of being mysterious and enigmatic, but I’m on an emotional roller coaster here. Why did you rest your case? Why aren’t you putting on a defense?”

  Steve shrugged and shook his head. “Because frankly I don’t have one.”

  Tracy stared at him. “I thought you were going to try every trick in the book to get Jeremy Dawson off.”

  “I am.” Steve put his hands on their shoulders. “Come on, guys, let’s have lunch.”

  Tracy shrugged his hand off. “I couldn’t eat a thing. I’m still waiting for your explanation. Why didn’t you put on a defense?”

  “O.K.,” Steve said. “Try to understand. Dirkson has put on his case. Nothing I could do is gonna weaken that case. I got no witness to call, no trick to play. And the way I see it, it hurts me more to do something ineffective than to do nothing at all.”

  “Hurts you? What about your client?”

  “When I say me, I mean my client. And what’s with you? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “I don’t like him. But he’s still entitled to a defense.”

  Steve smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear you say it. I may quote you on that after I get him off.”

  Tracy frowned. “How the hell are you gonna get him off now?”

  “I’m taking my best shot. It happens I got nothin’, so my best shot is to do nothin’ and proceed with the argument. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

  Taylor looked at him. “You knew this last night?”

  Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then why did you have me subpoena all those witnesses?”

  “Because I didn’t want Dirkson to know what I was planning.”

  “My men wouldn’t talk.”

  “I know that, Mark. But the people they subpoenaed would. That’s why I had you subpoena the relatives. It’s a sure thing at least one and maybe all of them went straight to Dirkson.