wildest fantasy. I was just trying to show you how ridiculous the defense attorney’s contentions are. We know nothing like that happened. What I am saying is, the existence of this memo, which I personally do not believe exists, wouldn’t prove a thing he says it would. I ask that the motion be denied.”
Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Judge Wallingsford held up his hand. “That will not be necessary, Mr. Winslow. The court is now going to rule. The court rules that once this matter has been brought up, it cannot be dropped. That in view of the defendant’s testimony, in view of Mr. Winslow’s assurances that Mr. Pennington would testify that if this memo does indeed exist that it could be erased, the court rules that the evidence
“The court makes the following directive. The court orders court officers to proceed immediately to Milton Castleton’s apartment and seal up the premises until the evidence can be seen. The court further instructs that any attempt on the part of any of the parties involved to communicate with any of the occupants of the apartment shall be considered contempt of court. And that includes Mr. Castleton himself.
“The court further directs that Mr. Pennington, Mr. Fitzpatrick, Mr. Winslow, Mr. Dirkson and myself shall proceed immediately to Milton Castleton’s apartment, and in our presence Mr. Pennington will examine that computer and see if that memo does indeed exist in the backup file. Mr. Castleton and his associates will, of course, be present.
“As this will effectively take up the afternoon, we will then adjourn for the day. The defendant is hereby remanded to custody, and the jurors may be sent home. The rest of us will proceed immediately to Milton Castleton’s apartment to examine the evidence, and we will reconvene tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.
39
The procession of cars made its way up Madison Avenue. Only three of the cars were official: the limousine carrying Milton Castleton, Stanley Castleton and Phil Danby; the car carrying Judge Wallingsford, Harry Dirkson and Arthur Pennington; and the car carrying Steve Winslow and Harold Fitzpatarick. The rest of the cars carried the hordes of reporters who, while they had no right to be there, weren’t going to miss it.
The cars went across 72nd Street, down Fifth Avenue and pulled up in front of Milton Castleton’s building. Winslow and Fitzpatrick got out in time to see Phil Danby and Stanley Castleton assisting Milton Castleton out of the limo. Judge Wallingsford, Dirkson and Pennington walked up and they all met in front of the apartment, where Milton Castleton was demonstrating that he was still very much in charge.
Castleton pointed a bony finger at Judge Wallingsford. “All right,” he said. “You’ve ordered this, so I, of course, will allow it. If such a memo exists, I want to know it. But I have to tell you I don’t believe a word of it, and I personally resent the intrusion.”
“I understand, Mr. Castleton,” Judge Wallingsford said. “And I hope you understand why it must be done.”
Milton Castleton did not even acknowledge that. “Well, let’s get on with it,” he said irritably.
Dirkson cast an exasperated glance at the taxis full of reporters that had just pulled up. “Yeah, let’s do it,” he said.
The two court officers already stationed at the front door let them in, then moved with a degree of satisfaction to keep the reporters out.
Inside, an elevator large enough for all whisked them up to the eighth floor where they emerged in the spacious foyer of the floor-through apartment. Milton Castleton, with his son’s and Phil Danby’s assistance, led the way to the office. Danby opened the door and they went in.
Of the lawyers, judge and witness, only Steve Winslow had been in the office before. The others were slightly overawed, first, by its size, and second, by a sight that they all observed but no one pointed out or even alluded to- the curtained window in the office wall.
The huge computer was on the opposite wall. Pennington spotted it, rubbed his hands together happily, made for it and sat down. The others formed a semicircle around him. Pennington switched the computer on.
As the computer began to whir, Dirkson said, “At this time I’d like to renew my objection to this entire proceeding. I’d like to point out that even if the memo does exist, it proves nothing. The defendant admits fiddling with the workings of this computer. If Mr. Pennington should find a memo in the backup system, there is nothing to prove that the defendant didn’t type it there herself.”
“You pointed that out in the car, Mr. Dirkson,” Judge Wallingsford said.
“I want to point it out in front of opposing counsel. I want to point out that Mr. Pennington, your own witness, bears out that contention. According to him a memo could be inserted in the backup system just as well as one could be deleted.”
“You’ll have a chance to make those points in court, Mr. Dirkson,” Judge Wallingsford said. “Right now we are concerned with whether that memo exists at all. Is there anything you need, Mr. Pennington?”
Pennington was already beating out a rhythm on the keyboard. Letters and symbols were flashing on the screen. “I’ll let you know,” he said, and went on typing.
The words
“Got it,” Pennington said.
He continued to hit function keys. Documents went whizzing by.
“All right,” Pennington said. “Here’s the date in question. We have one, two, three memos on that day. One from a salesman in Austin, Texas.” He hit a key. Another document appeared. “One from Stanley Castleton at the main office.” He hit another key. “And one from a company in Palm Springs.”
“Anything relevant in the Stanley Castleton memo?” Judge Wallingsford asked.
Pennington backed up a screen. The others leaned in and looked. The memo concerned the purchase of packing cartons.
“Nothing in that,” Judge Wallingsford said. “And that’s all for that date?”
Pennington pressed some keys. “That’s right,” he said. “Next memo you’re into the next day.”
“Those memos are recorded in chronological order?”
Pennington smiled, the smug smile of an expert at a layman’s ignorance. “Of course,” he said. “That’s the purpose of the log.”
“The defendant certain of the date?” Judge Wallingsford asked.
“Yes, she is,” Steve said.
“All right, can you get into the backup file?”
Pennington seemed pained by the question. “Of course,” he said. He began pressing keys at seemingly lightning speed, as if to show up Judge Wallingsford for doubting his competence. Symbols appeared and disappeared on the screen too fast for anyone to even read them.
Moments later, Pennington said, “Here we are. In the backup system. Now to get to Fax-log.” More symbols flashed. “Here we go. Now the date.”
Pennington hit more keys. Everyone leaned in to look, and one of the previous memos appeared.
“Here we are. The memo from the buyer in Texas.”
He pressed a key.
“The memo from Stanley Castleton.”
Another key.
“The memo from Palm Springs.” Another key.
And another memo they had seen before appeared.
The memo from the next day.
The memo from Herbert Clay was not there.
40
The
