“I know, Your Honor. But a matter has come up of which I was totally unaware. At least until a few moments ago. And it is a matter that is so grave, I feel I may be forced to take action. At this time, I must ask to reopen my case.”
Judge Wallingsford stared at Dirkson. “Mr. Dirkson, you rested your case. If you have new evidence, you can bring it out on rebuttal. That is the proper way to do so. But I can think of no reason to allow you to reopen your case now.”
“But I have new evidence, Your Honor, which should be introduced before I cross-examine the defendant. Evidence which will definitely link her with the commission of the crime.”
“Then it should have been introduced as part of your case.”
“I wasn’t privy to the information, Your Honor. It has only come into my hands now. I have a witness who will definitely put the defendant at the scene of the crime.”
Judge Wallingsford shook his head. “That is not proper procedure, Mr. Dirkson. If the defense raises an objection, as I am sure they will, I would have to sustain it.”
Dirkson’s face was grim. “The defense can have no objection, Your Honor. Because I am prepared to prove that the only reason this witness was unavailable in the first place was because this witness was carefully and deliberately concealed from us by the defense.”
Judge Wallingsford’s eyes widened. “That is a most serious charge, Mr. Dirkson. You mean the defense had full knowledge of the existence of this witness?”
“They did, and I can prove it,” Dirkson said.
“They deliberately concealed this witness from you?”
“That is correct, Your Honor.”
Judge Wallingsford took a breath. “And where is this witness now?”
There was a commotion in the back of the courtroom as the doors behind the spectators were thrown open.
“I believe she’s here now,” Dirkson said.
Everyone turned to look as two court officers pushed through the crowd leading in a defiant but rather harried-looking Marcie Keller.
41
Marcie Keller looked like a beast at bay. She tossed her head, shaking the long, curly hair off her face, gripped the arms of the witness stand and glared defiantly down at Harry Dirkson.
She had been installed on the witness stand after a long, brawling argument between Harry Dirkson and Steve Winslow, at the end of which Judge Wallingsford had ruled that Dirkson be allowed to reopen his case.
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.”