“No.”
“Did you take anything out of any of the pockets?”
“No.”
“You certain?”
“Absolutely.”
“I see. Then let me ask you this: did you put anything
“No, I did not.”
“You did not?”
“That is correct.”
“You understand you’re under oath?”
“I object to that question.”
Dirkson looked at him. “What?”
“I object to the question.”
“I just asked you if you knew you were under oath.”
“Exactly,” Steve said. “It’s a thoroughly objectionable question. I’m a lawyer. I know what it means to be under oath. Your asking that is a snide attempt to imply to the grand jury that you don’t believe what I’m saying.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a question.”
“Sure, it’s a question, but it’s not a question designed to elicit any information. It’s merely an attempt to belittle my testimony.”
“How could that belittle your testimony?”
“I told you. By implying you don’t believe what I’m saying.”
“I
Steve smiled. “There you are.”
Dirkson suddenly realized he was fighting a losing battle. “All right,” he said. “Let’s get back to what you did. When you entered Bradshaw’s apartment, did you have any money on you?”
“Certainly.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did. I always carry money on me. So many taxi drivers don’t take checks.”
“This is no joking matter.”
“I agree. Then ask me a question that makes sense. Everyone carries money.”
“You know what I’m getting at,” Dirkson said. “When you entered that apartment, did you have a large sum of money on you? To be specific, did you have ten thousand dollars in one thousand dollar bills?”
“No, I did not.”
“You deny that you had ten thousand dollars on you when you entered that apartment?”
“Yes, I do.”
Dirkson crossed to the prosecutor’s table and picked up a piece of paper.
“Mr. Winslow, I hand you a piece of paper and ask you if you have seen it before.”
“Yes I have.”
“What do you recognize it to be?”
“It is the list of serial numbers off of ten one thousand dollar bills.”
“Where did you get that list?”
“You just handed it to me.”
Dirkson frowned. “Don’t swap words with me. You know what I mean. Last night in my office I asked you to produce a list of the serial numbers of ten one thousand dollar bills. Is that the list you gave me at that time?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Once again, you are inquiring into matters that are privileged and confidential.”
“But you admit that you had that list in your possession?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And do you admit that you employed Mark Taylor of the Taylor Detective Agency to trace the numbers on that list and find out who withdrew those bills from the bank?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And do you know who did withdraw those bills from the bank?”
“Only by hearsay.”
“I understand. But the list speaks for itself, and it has been checked. Is it not true that, to the best of your knowledge, those bills were withdrawn from the First National Bank by David C. Bradshaw?”
“That is correct.”
“And where did that list come from?”
“There again you are inquiring into things that are privileged and confidential.”
“Did you ever have in your possession the ten one thousand dollar bills whose serial numbers are on that list?”
“That is also privileged and confidential.”
“I’m not asking you what anyone told you. I’m asking you if you had the bills.”
Steve shook his head. “You’re asking, in effect, if a client gave me those bills. That’s privileged information, as you well know.”
“You realize that by invoking your professional privilege you’re forcing us to draw our own conclusions.”
“Go ahead and draw them. I have nothing to say.”
“All right, I’ll draw them,” Dirkson said. “Is it or is it not a fact that when you went to Bradshaw’s apartment, you had ten thousand dollars on you in one thousand dollar bills? Is it not a fact that you searched the body, found another ten thousand dollars in thousand dollar bills on it? And is it not a fact that you then switched bills, placing the ten thousand dollars that you had on the body, and removing the ten thousand dollars that was there?”
“No, that is not a fact.”
“And,” Dirkson went on, as if Steve had not answered, “is it not a fact that before you could leave the apartment you were trapped by the arrival of the police, and, not wanting to be found with the bills in your possession, you hid them in the upstairs hallway of the apartment building?”
“That is not a fact.”
“You deny that you hid any bills in the hallway of Bradshaw’s apartment house?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And you deny that you removed any bills from Bradshaw’s apartment?”
“That’s right.”
Dirkson abruptly changed his tack. “Is Marilyn Harding your client?”
“No.”
“Has Marilyn Harding
“To the best of my knowledge, no.”
“What do you mean, to the best of your knowledge?”
“Exactly what I said. As far as I know, Marilyn Harding has never consulted me. Does that answer your question?”
Dirkson frowned. He wasn’t sure that it had. But he wasn’t sure that it hadn’t, either.
“Is it not true that you went to Glen Cove and called on Marilyn Harding last night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And that was after you found the body of David C. Bradshaw?”
“That’s right.”
“And why did you call on Marilyn Harding?”
“There again, I can’t tell you.”
“Was the reason connected with the death of David C. Bradshaw?”
“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”
