“You were waiting to see if David Castleton would show up?”
“That’s right.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, he did.”
“What time was that?”
“Approximately ten-thirty.”
“How did he arrive?”
“By taxi.”
“Was anyone with him?”
“Yes.”
“Who was that?”
“The defendant.”
“You saw them get out of the taxi together?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“They went into the building.”
“You saw them go in?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Could you see what happened after they went into the building?”
“Yes, I could.”
“And what was that?”
“They went into the elevator.”
“The doors closed?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, did you see David Castleton again that night?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you see the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder again that night?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what time was that?”
“It was eleven-thirty.”
“And where did you see her?”
“She came out of the elevator and walked out of the building.”
“Out of David Castleton’s building?”
“That’s right.”
“Where did she go?”
“She walked across town to an address on Eighty-eighth Street.”
“You followed her?”
“Yes, I did.”
“The other detective-Dan Fuller-did he follow her too?”
“Yes, he did.”
“You both followed the defendant?”
“That’s right.”
“To this address on Eighty-eighth Street?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“The defendant went in.”
“What did you do?”
“I stayed and watched the building.”
“For how long?”
“All night.”
Dirkson’s surprise was genuine. “All night?”
“Yes.”
“Till when?”
“Nine thirty the next morning.”
“And how did you happen to leave?”
“Dan Fuller came, told me to go home.”
“He hadn’t stayed all night?”
“No, he’d gone home about one.”
“And he came back at nine-thirty?”
“That’s right.”
“And that’s when you went home?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Tell me this. After you went home that morning-on the day of June twenty-ninth-did you meet with Mark Taylor of the Taylor Detective Agency and Steve Winslow, the attorney for Kelly Clay Wilder?”
“Objection,” Steve said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. The prosecutor is now inquiring into matters that happened well after the decedent met his death, matters that happened outside the knowledge of the defendant and that can have no bearing on these proceedings.”
“It goes to the bias of the witness, Your Honor.”
“Overruled.”
“Did you meet with Mark Taylor and Steve Winslow?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I’m not going to ask you what was said in that meeting, but I am going to ask you this. Since that meeting have you ever communicated what you saw on the night of June twenty-eighth to the police?”
“No, I have not.”
“Are you still in the employ of the Taylor Detective Agency?”
“No, I am not.”
“When did you leave the Taylor Detective Agency?”
“June twenty-ninth.”
Marcie raised her chin defiantly. “I wanted to pursue my acting career.”
Dirkson’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said with elaborate sarcasm. “Your acting career. You chose this precise moment to pursue your acting career?”
“I thought I’d been neglecting it.”
“Your detective work taking up too much of your time?”
“That’s right.”
“You left the Taylor Detective Agency to devote full time to your acting?”
“Yes, I did.”
“So much so that you never heard of the murder of David Castleton or the arrest of Kelly Clay Wilder?”
Steve Winslow stood up. “Your Honor,” he said. “Let the record show that I am appearing as the attorney for Marcie Keller. It now appears from his questions that the district attorney has reason to suspect this young woman of a crime. Therefore, at this time I am advising Marcie Keller not to answer that question on the grounds that an answer might tend to incriminate her.”
That was the moment Dirkson had been waiting for. He turned to look at Steve Winslow and as their eyes locked, Dirkson’s face broke into a triumphant grin.
Dirkson turned, shared his satisfaction with the rest of the court. “In that case, Your Honor,” he said, “I have no further questions of this witness.”
With that, the courtroom burst into an uproar.
