Parnell Hall - The Naked Typist

“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 this 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.”

Judge Wallingsford took a breath. “Mr. Dirkson, I understand your impatience, but you’re getting ahead of yourself. You’re arguing against a motion we have not yet heard. Let’s find out what this is all about, and then I’ll be able to tell if your argument has any validity. Mr. Winslow, what is your motion?”

“Your Honor, at this time I must ask that the defendant be temporarily excused from the stand so that the defense may put on some evidence out of order.”

Dirkson’s face purpled. “There, Your Honor. It’s exactly as I told you. To get the defendant off the stand before I can cross-examine her. It’s absolutely outrageous. The motion should be denied, and the attorney should be censured.”

Judge Wallingsford nodded. “Mr. Winslow. Mr. Dirkson has a point. What possible reason can you give for removing the defendant from the stand at this time to put on additional evidence?”

“Because, Your Honor,” Steve said, “the evidence I am referring to is by its very nature perishable. If I were not to introduce it now, there is a clear and present danger that this evidence might cease to exist.”

“Perishable, Mr. Winslow?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Then I beg your pardon. Mr. Dirkson, if the evidence Mr. Winslow is referring to is indeed perishable, then his motion would have validity and I would have to consider it. But it is now necessary for us to go into the nature of the evidence.” He turned back to Steve Winslow. “But I must warn you, Mr. Winslow. If it should turn out that this is not the case, if the evidence you are referring to is not pertinent, not perishable, in fact has no bearing on these proceedings whatsoever, if you indeed have made this motion merely as a stalling technique to prevent Mr. Dirkson from his right and just cross-examination, then you would indeed be in danger of being cited for misconduct. So be fairly warned, and think before you answer. Do you wish to continue with this motion?”

“I do, Your Honor.”

“Very well. You are aware of what the consequences might be. Tell me. What is this evidence you wish to introduce?”

Steve Winslow turned and looked out over the courtroom to the man who was sitting in the back next to Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin. “Mr. Pennington, would you please stand up?”

Pennington, a tall man with a thin face, a shock of untidy brown hair and horn-rimmed glasses, stood up.