“Right. Of twenty-four. Whereas I am a worn-out old hag of twenty-nine.”
He laughed. “Right. Over the hill. Washed up. Soon to be playing old-lady-character parts.”
He tickled her. She giggled, twisted away.
“Stop that.”
“No, devil woman. You are in the clutches of the incurable-romantic tickling machine.”
She twisted away again, laughing and spilling brandy.
The phone rang.
“Time. Saved by the bell,” Judy said. She leaned over and grabbed the phone. “Hello.”
She listened, then turned to him with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. “It’s for you.”
“Oh. That’ll be Mark Taylor. I gave him this number.”
“Oh.” She handed him the phone.
“Hello, Mark. What’s up?”
“We can’t get a line on Sam Benton. He never served in the military. He never filed a tax return. He never drove a car.”
“Well, he was born, wasn’t he?”
“Not according to vital statistics. So in all probability, Sam Benton isn’t his right name.”
“Shit. What about Alice Baxter?”
“We’re trying to run her down. The trail’s pretty cold. It’s been twenty-five years, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Steve hung up the phone. His momentary kidding mood was gone.
Judy looked at him. “Bad news?”
“That’s the only kind I get,” he said.
41
When court reconvened the next morning, Dirkson called Carla Finley to the stand.
Sheila Benton leaned over to Steve Winslow, and whispered, “Who’s she?”
“Greely’s girlfriend,” Steve whispered back.
“Oh.”
Sheila was surprised. She had been so caught up in her own predicament, that it had never occurred to her the dead man was a person too, with a life of his own, and friends, and girlfriends. She watched Carla Finley with some interest.
Steve watched Carla Finley with some interest too. It was hard to believe that this woman walking down the aisle and taking the witness stand was the same woman he had seen in the peep show. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead and tied in a sedate bun. She was dressed in conservative, black mourning attire. But the main difference was her eyes. The eyes that in the peep show had seemed so bright, so alert, so challenging, the eyes that held the come-hither look, were now discreetly downcast. The effect was to transform a porn queen into a bereaved widow.
In Steve’s opinion, she had been brilliantly coached.
Carla Finley took the stand, and, in soft, halting tones, guided by Dirkson’s skillful questioning, stated that she had known the deceased, Robert Greely, in his lifetime, that she had gone to the morgue to identify a dead body, and that the dead man was the man whom she had known as Robert Greely.
“That’s all,” Dirkson said.
Carla Finley got up to leave the stand.
Steve rose to his feet. “I have a few questions on cross-examination,” he said. He crossed to the witness stand. “Now. Miss Finley, you say you recognized the body as that of Robert Greely?”
“Yes.”
“How long had you known Mr. Greely?”
“About five years.”
“Did you meet him through your work?”
Dirkson was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. This witness was called for a limited purpose, that of identifying the body. Let counsel confine his questions to that. These matters he is touching on are incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”
Judge Crandell leaned over the bench. “I think the objection is well taken. The witness was called for a limited purpose.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Steve said. “Identifying the body. Which is what I’m going into. Surely the accuracy of her identification of the dead man will depend on how well she knew him. Which is what I’m going into.”
Judge Crandell narrowed his eyes. “You’re questioning the matter of identity?”
“I don’t know, Your Honor, because I haven’t asked my questions yet. But I certainly intend to ask them. So far, all we have in evidence here is the fact this witness claims the dead man was Robert Greely. I certainly intend to find out on what grounds she bases her claim.”
“Very well. The witness will answer the question.”
“The question,” Steve said, “was did you meet him through your work?”
“Yes.”
“What were you wearing at the time?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”
“Sustained,” Judge Crandell ruled.
“May I be heard, Your Honor?”
Judge Crandell shook his head. “The question is clearly improper.”
“Very well.” Steve turned back to the witness. “Then let me ask you this-were you wearing anything at the time you met Robert Greely?”
Dirkson was on his feet shouting. “Your Honor! Your Honor! Objection. I charge the asking of that question as misconduct. Your Honor has already ruled.”
“Mr. Winslow,” Judge Crandell said sternly. “I believe the prosecutor is correct. Your question borders seriously on misconduct. I may have to find you in contempt of court. Before I do, do you have any explanation to make for asking such a question?”
“I do, Your Honor.”
“Then would you please explain?”
“Certainly, Your Honor. I am trying to find out the basis for Miss Finley’s identification of the dead man. She has testified that she met him through her employment. It happens that Miss Finley is employed as a nude dancer in a peep show on Forty-second Street. I am attempting to find out if Mr. Greely was merely a customer in that establishment, for surely the identification of someone who was a longtime friend of the decedent will be more forceful than that of a nude model who knew him only as a customer who used to ogle her naked body in a peep show.”
Dirkson was on his feet to object, but Carla Finley beat him to it. “You son of a bitch!” she shrieked from the witness stand. Her demure manner was completely gone and her eyes were blazing.
The court burst into an uproar. It took Judge Crandell five bangs of the gavel to quiet it.
“That will do,” Judge Crandell said. “Mr. Prosecutor, please be quiet. I will handle this. Now then, Mr. Winslow,” Crandell went on, “have you any reason at all, however remote, why I should not consider the statement you have just made contempt of court?”
“Certainly, Your Honor.”
Crandell gawked at him. “You do?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I made that statement in response to a direct question by you, asking me to explain my reasons for asking the witness if she was wearing anything at the time she met Robert Greely. I had no choice but to make it, since the question was a directive from the court. In fact, had I not made that statement, I would be in contempt of court.
“If I am in error, I would like to apologize to the court and to the prosecutor. And as far as the question itself goes, I will not pursue this any further, I will withdraw it. And I have no further questions of this witness.”
