Parnell Hall: The Naked Typist

The jurors, of course, had heard none of this. In fact, they had not been in court since early the previous day. So they had no idea what was going on, only that it was taking an unusually long time. The last they heard, the defense attorney was about to make a motion, so those jurors who had been responsible enough to heed Judge Wallingsford’s admonition about not reading the papers had to figure the delay was on account of that. So they were absolutely bewildered when Judge Wallingsford informed them that it was the District Attorney who would be putting on new evidence and that Harry Dirkson had been allowed to reopen his case.

Which made the attractive young woman on the witness stand even more fascinating. She was not a surprise defense witness, she was a surprise prosecution witness.

And obviously a reluctant one.

What the hell was going on?

Dirkson, showman that he was, prolonged the suspense by pausing dramatically for several seconds and just standing there looking at the witness before crossing in to question her. When he did, he began slowly, gently, even conversationally, a slight smile on his lips but a hard glint in his eye. It was a good tactic, implying the easy assurance of a man who has every ace in the deck, and it created the desired effect. The witness is mine, Dirkson’s attitude seemed to say. There is nothing to worry about. She won’t get away.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Marcie took a breath. “Marcie Keller.”

“And what is your occupation, Miss Keller.”

Marcie’s chin came up. “I’m an actress.”

“An actress?” Dirkson said. “Now that’s interesting. There are thousands of actresses in New York City. Competition for jobs is rather fierce. Tell me, are you presently employed?”

Marcie glared at him. “I am presently on the witness stand,” she said dryly.

That sally drew a laugh from the spectators. Judge Wallingsford frowned and banged the gavel.

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.”