The Anonymous Client

“But you were in his apartment that one time?”

“Yes. I just said I was.”

“So when you said in your previous testimony that you had never been in his apartment, you were mistaken, is that right?”

“Yes. I was mistaken.”

“I see. And were you perhaps mistaken about any other part of your testimony?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“The rest of your testimony is accurate?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You were mistaken about that one particular fact?”

“That’s right.”

“You simply didn’t remember, but you remember now?”

“Yes. That’s exactly right.”

“Before we proceed, I would like to give you a chance to think. Is there anything else that you didn’t remember, that you remember now?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“You remember now that you’d been in Bradshaw’s apartment on that one occasion?”

“That’s right.”

“And if you were in his apartment, you of course spoke to him at that time. I mean, more than just to say hello in passing?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you recall what you talked about on that occasion, the occasion when you were in Bradshaw’s apartment?”

“No, I don’t. Only what I just told you. It was something about the apartment. A shelf or counter or something. I didn’t even remember the incident until you reminded me of it.”

“You didn’t talk about anything else? Anything about his personal life? Or yours?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“And that, to the best of your recollection, is the only time you ever talked to Bradshaw other than to say hello in passing in the hall?”

“That’s right.”

“And you’ve never been in his apartment again?”

“No.”

“You’ve never talked to him again, other than the hello in passing we’ve just mentioned?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you ever talk to him on the phone?”

“No. Of course not.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You never called him on his phone?”

“No.”

“He never called you on yours?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Is that so?” Steve said. “I hand you back the clipboard marked Defense exhibit B, and ask you to look at the list.”

Steve extended the clipboard, but Margaret Millburn made no move to take it. “Go ahead. You can touch it. You’ve already admitted being in the apartment. Your fingerprints don’t matter now.”

Reluctantly, the witness took the list.

“Fine,” Steve said. “Now, referring to the paper attached to the clipboard, the paper marked Defense exhibit A, what do you recognize it to be?”

“It’s a list of names.”

“That’s right. A list of names. Now, would you please read the names out loud?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The names on the list. Read them out loud, please.”

Margaret Millburn hesitated. Then she looked down and read off the names in a slow, steady voice, placing no emphasis on any particular name.

“Thank you,” Steve said. He took the clipboard, walked back and set it on the defense table. As he did so, Fitzpatrick flashed him a glance of inquiry. Under his breath Steve said, “Hold on to your hat, Fitzpatrick. We’re goin’ for the gold.”

Steve straightened and turned back to the witness. “Miss Millburn. Last night, when you were shown that list of names, the list you’ve just read into the record, did any name strike you as significant?”

“No.”

“No?” Steve said. “That’s odd. Suppose I were to tell you that Tracy Garvin, the young woman who showed you that list, noted a definite reaction on your part to one of the names-would that jar your memory any?”

“No, it would not. I don’t know what that list is, I don’t know where it came from, I don’t know what it means. That list has no significance to me.”

“And none of the names on that list has any particular significance?”

“No. The names appear to be people involved in this trial. Why that should be important, I couldn’t begin to tell you.”

“There are many people involved in this trial,” Steve said. “But it is my contention that there is one whose name has a special significance to you. Would it change your testimony any to know that the investigator, Tracy Garvin, was convinced that you showed a definite reaction to the name, Phyllis Kemper?”

The witness stared at him. “It most certainly would not.”

“It would not?”

“No.”

“The name Phyllis Kemper means nothing to you?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Has no special significance?”

“None whatsoever.”

“And it is not true that last night when you were handed the clipboard, you reacted to seeing the name Phyllis Kemper?”

“No. It is not true.”

There was a pause.

Steve nodded. “You’re right, Miss Millburn. I don’t think that’s true either.”

The witness blinked. Stared at him.

Steve shook his head. “No. I think the name you reacted to was the name Mark Taylor.”

There was a pause. A time lag in the court, while people caught up with that statement. Mark Taylor? It was clear that most of the people in the court couldn’t even place the name.

Most of the people.

On the stand, the witness blinked. Once. Twice. She wet her lips.

“That’s true, isn’t it, Miss Millburn?” Steve said. “It was the name Mark Taylor that you reacted to, wasn’t it?”

“No. No,” she said. “It wasn’t.”

“No?” Steve said. He raised his voice and picked up the pace. “Then perhaps I can refresh your recollection. You have testified, have you not, that you never spoke to the decedent on the phone-that you never called him on his phone and he never called you on yours. Is that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Is it, Miss Millburn? I ask you, is it not a fact that on the afternoon of Tuesday the eighth, the man you knew