The Naked Typist

“Up Third Avenue?”

“That’s right.”

“And what did you do?”

“I followed him.”

“You followed David Castleton?”

“That’s right.”

“Was that as a result of instructions you received for your job?”

“Objection. Hearsay.”

Judge Wallingsford frowned. “Sustained.”

“Where did David Castleton go?”

“Up Third Avenue, over to Fifth Avenue and into a building.”

“David Castleton went into a building on Fifth Avenue?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Did you follow him in?”

“No, I did not.”

“What was the address of that building?”

“I don’t recall.”

“You can’t recall the address?”

“No.”

“Then let me ask you this. Did the address of that building mean anything to you at the time? In other words, had you been told the address of that building and been told anyone lived there?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

Dirkson frowned. Thought a moment. “Let’s do it another way. Miss Keller, at the time you were following David Castleton, did you have a pocket notebook with you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Was the address of the building David Castleton went into written in your pocket notebook before you followed him to that address?”

“Objection.”

“Overruled.”

Marcie took a breath. “Yes, it was.”

“Then that address had special significance for you?”

“Objection. Argumentative. Calls for a conclusion.”

“Overruled.”

“I was familiar with the address.”

“Had you ever been there before?”

“No.”

“But you had it written in your notebook?”

“Yes.”

“Then answer me this. Did you have the name of anyone who lived there written in your notebook?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And who was that?”

“Milton Castleton.”

“Milton Castleton? The grandfather of David Castleton?”

“That’s right.”

“So,” Dirkson said. “You followed David Castleton from Castleton Industries to his grandfather’s address?”

“That’s right.”

Dirkson turned and smiled at the jury, as if to show what an ordeal it had been to establish that one simple fact. “Well, Miss Keller. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“What time was it when David Castleton reached his grandfather’s apartment building?”

“About five-thirty.”

“When he went inside, what did you do?”

“I waited on the sidewalk.”

“Until he came out?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that?”

“About six-thirty.”

“Where did he go?”

“He walked back across town to Third Avenue and down to a singles bar.”

“You followed him?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you go into the bar?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did David Castleton do in the singles bar?”

“He sat at the bar and ordered a drink.”

“I see. And did you order a drink?”

“Yes, I did.”

Dirkson smiled. “I see. Now tell me, Miss Keller, did there come a time when you spoke to David Castleton?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Tell me. How did that happen?”

“I was standing next to him at the bar.”

“What were you doing?”

“Ordering a drink.”

“Another drink?”

“Yes.”

“When you ordered your first drink, were you standing next to him?”

“No, I was at the other end of the bar.”

“I see. You drank that, then moved down the bar and stood next to David Castleton to order another?”

“That’s right.”

“That’s when you spoke to him?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Tell me, who started the conversation, you or him?”

“I did.”

“Tell me, Miss Keller, why did you speak to David Castleton?”

“To find out what he was doing.”

“That was your job?”

“Objection to what the witness was instructed to do.”

Judge Wallingsford took a breath. “Mr. Dirkson, there’s a fine line here. Let’s not cross it. The objection is sustained.”

“Very well, Your Honor. What did you and the decedent talk about?”

“About his job.”

“His job at Castleton Industries?”

“Yes.”

“Did you talk about your job?”