Parnell Hall: The Naked Typist

“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 David 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?”

“Objection,” Steve said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. The prosecutor is now inquiring into matters that happened well after the decedent met his death, matters that happened outside the knowledge of the defendant and that can have no bearing on these proceedings.”

“It goes to the bias of the witness, Your Honor.”

“Overruled.”

“Did you meet with Mark Taylor and Steve Winslow?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I’m not going to ask you what was said in that meeting, but I am going to ask you this. Since that meeting have you ever communicated what you saw on the night of June twenty-eighth to the police?”

“No, I have not.”

“Are you still in the employ of the Taylor Detective Agency?”

“No, I am not.”

“When did you leave the Taylor Detective Agency?”

“June twenty-ninth.”

“Why did you leave the Taylor Detective Agency?”

Marcie raised her chin defiantly. “I wanted to pursue my acting career.”

Dirkson’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said with elaborate sarcasm. “Your acting career. You chose this precise moment to pursue your acting career?”

“I thought I’d been neglecting it.”

“Your detective work taking up too much of your time?”

“That’s right.”

“You left the Taylor Detective Agency to devote full time to your acting?”

“Yes, I did.”

“So much so that you never heard of the murder of David Castleton or the arrest of Kelly Clay Wilder?”

Steve Winslow stood up. “Your Honor,” he said. “Let the record show that I am appearing as the attorney for Marcie Keller. It now appears from his questions that the district attorney has reason to suspect this young woman of a crime. Therefore, at this time I am advising Marcie Keller not to answer that question on the grounds that an answer might tend to incriminate her.”

That was the moment Dirkson had been waiting for. He turned to look at Steve Winslow and as their eyes locked, Dirkson’s face broke into a triumphant grin.

Dirkson turned, shared his satisfaction with the rest of the court. “In that case, Your Honor,” he said, “I have no further questions of this witness.”

With that, the courtroom burst into an uproar.

Fitzpatrick’sface was hard. “You should have told me.”

Steve Winslow was slumped back in his desk chair. He ran his hand over his head. “I know,” he said.

Fitzpatrick was sitting in the clients’ chair. Mark Taylor, too agitated to sit, was pacing back and forth. Tracy Garvin stood in the background, looking on. Her eyes were sad.

“If you’d told me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“If I’d told you, you wouldn’t have taken the case.”

“This is true.”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“I know.”

“I let you down. I let Mark down. The whole thing’s a mess.”

“No argument here,” Fitzpatrick said.

Steve straightened up in his chair, pointed his finger at Fitzpatrick. “But you’re not on the hook, and you don’t have to be,” he said. “That’s the saving grace. If I’d told you, you’d be in the soup. But I didn’t. You didn’t know any of this. You can testify to that, and Mark and I will back you up.”

“Fat lot of good that will do.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re wrong. You don’t have to take the fall for this, Fitzpatrick. You stand up in court tomorrow, you tell the judge all this comes as a complete surprise to you. You were caught flat-footed, taken aback and feel you cannot continue with the proceedings. You ask permission to withdraw from the case.”

Fitzpatrick shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m mad as hell, but I’m not a quitter. That would be unfair to our client and unfair to you.” He pointed his finger at Steve. “Don’t make any mistake, I’m pissed as hell. If you think I’d ever handle another case with you, you’re out of your mind. But as far as this case goes, I’m sticking it out, sink or swim. So get your shit together and figure out what the hell you’re gonna do. On the off chance you should happen to, do me the favor of letting me know.”

Fitzpatrick stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my firm and see if I’m still senior partner or if the other partners got together and voted me out.”

Fitzpatrick pushed past Tracy Garvin and went out, slamming the door.

“Can’t blame him a bit,” Steve said.

Taylor sighed. “That’s a fact. Oh, Jesus Christ, what the hell are we going to do?”

“It’s bad, Mark, but it ain’t over yet.”

Taylor collapsed into the chair. “That’s easy for you to say. You know the law. I don’t know shit. The way I see it, they got me dead to rights, I lost my license, and I’m up shit creek.”

“You haven’t lost anything yet.”

“So what’s my defense? The devil made me do it? My attorney made me do it? That ain’t gonna cut no ice.”