“I’m familiar with the law,” Steve said. “You want anything else?”
“I just wanted to warn you,” Dirkson said.
Steve smiled. “Thanks for your concern.”
Dirkson bit his lip, turned, and stalked back to the prosecution table.
Judge Graves entered and the bailiff called court to order.
“Call your next witness,” Judge Graves said.
Steve rose. “Your Honor, we call Margaret Millburn.”
Judge Graves frowned, but said nothing.
Margaret Millburn entered the courtroom from the back. She looked angry and tight-lipped. She strode down the aisle and took her place on the stand.
“Now, Miss Millburn,” Judge Graves said. “You have already been sworn. I remind you that you are still under oath. Mr. Winslow, you may proceed.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Miss Millburn, you have already testified in this case, as to hearing an altercation in the decedent’s apartment?”
“Objected to,” Dirkson said, “as already asked and answered. I submit, Your Honor, that Miss Millburn has already given her testimony in this case, and unless counselor has some definite purpose in mind, his calling this witness to the stand borders on abuse of process.”
“I have a definite purpose in mind, Your Honor,” Steve said. “But this is a prosecution witness, and I see no reason to disclose the purpose to her. Some of the questions I am asking are necessarily preliminary, and may in essence already have been asked and answered, but I do have a point, and if allowed to proceed, I intend to connect the matter up.”
Judge Graves frowned. “You may proceed, Mr. Winslow. But before you do so, let me add my caution to that of Mr. Dirkson. In the event that you do not connect the matter up, I trust you are aware of what the consequences might be.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor. Now. Miss Millburn, you testified as to an altercation in the decedent’s apartment, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“You also testified that you knew the decedent only slightly. As his next door neighbor, you had seen him a couple of times in the hall. But you’d never spoken to him other than to say hello. Is that right?”
“Yes it is.” Margaret Millburn drew herself up. “And I know nothing about this case other than what I have already testified to in court, and I object to being dragged through it again.”
Harry Dirkson grinned.
“I’m sure you do, Miss Millburn,” Steve said. “And I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I’ll try to make this as brief as possible.”
Steve Winslow walked to the defense table. He reached into the paper bag and detached the list of names from the metal clipboard. “Your Honor, I ask that this piece of paper be marked for identification as Defense exhibit A.”
Harry Dirkson stood up. “May I see that?”
“Certainly,” Steve said, and passed the paper over to him.
Dirkson took it, frowned, and said, “No objection, Your Honor.”
The court reporter took the paper and marked it. Steve took it back from him and approached the witness.
“Now, Miss Millburn, I hand you this paper marked for identification as Defense exhibit A, and ask if you have ever seen it before.”
The witness took the paper, looked at it, then glared at Steve Winslow.
“Well?” Steve said.
“Yes, I have.”
“I want to be sure of this,” Steve said. “Will you look at the list again? And read it over to yourself?”
The witness glared at him. Then looked down at the list. A few moments later she looked up. “Yes,” she said.
“You’ve read the list over?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And to the best of your recollection, you have seen this list before?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” Steve said. He crossed back to the defense table, and took the metal clipboard out of the paper bag. “Your Honor, I ask that this clipboard be marked for identification as Defense exhibit B.”
“Any objection?” Judge Graves said.
“None, Your Honor,” Dirkson said.
“So ordered.”
The reporter marked the clipboard. Steve took it back from him.
“Now,” Steve said, “I am going to take the paper, Defense exhibit A, and attach it to the clipboard, Defense exhibit B, and hand it to you and ask you if this is not the way the paper was presented to you when you saw it before.”
The witness took the clipboard. “Yes. That’s right. It was.”
“Fine,” Steve said. He looked around the courtroom. “Tracy Garvin. Please stand up.”
Tracy got to her feet.
“Now,” Steve said. “I ask you to look at the young woman standing in the back of the courtroom, and ask you if you have ever seen her before.”
“Objection, Your Honor. Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”
“I’ll connect it up in a moment, Your Honor,” Steve said.
“I think the connection should come first,” Dirkson said.
“Very well,” Steve said. “In that case, I will withdraw that question and ask you this: is it not true that the person standing in the back of the courtroom, Tracy Garvin, is the person who handed you the clipboard which you now hold?”
“Objection. Same grounds.”
“I can connect it up, Your Honor.”
“I still maintain the connection should come first,” Dirkson said.
“Very well,” Steve said. “Then let me ask you this: did you know that that person standing there is a private detective in my employ? Did you know that the clipboard you are holding in your hand is a highly polished metal clipboard used by private detectives for the purpose of obtaining clear latent prints of suspects? Did you know that Tracy Garvin, on my instructions, got you to handle that clipboard just as you are holding it now, specifically for the purpose of obtaining your latent prints for comparison? And did you know that when we compared your prints, two of them matched absolutely with the latent prints taken from the decedent’s apartment and introduced in evidence here in court?”
Dirkson lunged to his feet. “Objection!” he thundered. “Your Honor-”
Judge Graves’ gavel cut him off. “That will do,” he snapped. “Court is still in session. Jurors will remain seated. Witness will remain on the stand.” Judge Graves paused, took a breath, and then glowered at the defense table. “Attorneys,” he said grimly. “In my chambers.”
44
Dirkson angrily paced up and down in the judge’s chambers while he waited for the court reporter to set up his stand.
When everyone was ready, Judge Graves said, “Now, Mr. Dirkson.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. He glowered at Winslow and Fitzpatrick. “I charge the asking of that question as misconduct. It is a barefaced lie. Counsel may have obtained the fingerprints of the witness, but he’s never compared them to the prints in evidence in court. He doesn’t have them. It couldn’t have been done. It is a trick. A theatrical grandstand. I charge the asking of that question as misconduct.”
Judge Graves turned to Steve. “Mr. Winslow?”
Steve smiled. “I wish the prosecutor would make up his mind. A few minutes ago he was threatening to charge me with abuse of process for having no definite purpose in mind. As I understand it now, his charge is that I have a definite purpose in mind, but he doesn’t like it.”
“Mr. Winslow, the charge is that you are making a false statement in court. That you are claiming to have compared the fingerprints of the witness to those introduced in court, when you have in fact, not. What do you say to that?”
“I say it’s none of his business,” Steve said.
Judge Graves’ face darkened. “Mr. Winslow, this is not to be taken lightly.”
“If he did compare those prints,” Dirkson put in, “I charge him with tampering with a prosecution exhibit.”