The Innocent Woman

Hanson took the plug, pulled it out of the extension cord, The light went out.

“Same thing,” Hanson said.

He plugged it back in again.

The light resumed blinking.

“You also asked about a power failure and suggested that we throw a circuit breaker. I don’t know if Judge Wylie would like us to turn out every light in the courtroom, but I can tell you that when I performed the test last night, throwing the circuit breaker had absolutely no effect on the blinking light. It just kept blinking. It keeps blinking until you listen to the message.”

“Is that so?” Steve Winslow said.

“Yes, it is,” Officer Hanson said. “We’ve performed every test possible on the machine. The conclusion is inescapable. For the light to go from blinking to unblinking you have to listen to the message. There’s no way around it.”

“That’s your conclusion?” Steve Winslow said.

“Yes, it is.”

“What I mean is, that’s not a fact, that’s just your conclusion.”

Hanson smiled. “If you want to characterize it that way, I suppose you can. It’s a conclusion I can draw. It’s a conclusion you can draw. It’s a conclusion the jury can draw. From the tests conducted, it happens to be the only conclusion.”

“Is that so?” Steve Winslow said. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a micro-cassette. “Your Honor, I ask that this be marked for identification as Defense Exhibit B.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Where did that tape come from?”

Steve Winslow smiled. “I just pulled it out of my pocket.” He handed it to the court reporter. “And now I’m marking it for identification. Which I have every right to do. If you’d like to object to me introducing it into evidence, why don’t you wait till I do so?”

Judge Wylie banged the gavel. “Once again, gentlemen, I would caution you.”

When the exhibit had been marked, Steve Winslow said, “Now then, Officer Hanson. I show you a micro- cassette marked for identification as Defense Exhibit B and ask you if you have ever seen it before?”

“No, I have not.”

“Fine, Officer Hanson,” Steve Winslow said. “I ask you to remove the tape that is now in the answering machine.”

“Very well.” Hanson flipped up the cover, removed the tape.

“Now then,” Steve said. “You’ll notice I am inserting this micro-cassette, the one marked for identification Defense Exhibit B.”

Steve Winslow did so, and closed the lid. “Now then,” Steve said. “You’ll notice the light is steady. Is it not?”

“That’s right.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “I’m now pressing the button marked save.” He did so. The light began blinking. “You will notice that the light is now blinking, indicating that there is one message saved on the tape. Do you see that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “Now, watch this.” He reached on the side of the machine. “This is a volume control lever. It is set at maximum.” Steve pulled the lever. “I am now turning the volume control level from maximum down to zero. I am now pressing the button marked play.”

Steve did so, and walked away from the machine.

There came a click, then the faint whir of the tape turning. That went on for several seconds. Then there was another click. Then silence.

Steve Winslow smiled at the jury, then turned back to the witness. “Officer Hanson,” he said. “Do you notice that the blinking light is now steady?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Officer Hanson, would you now turn the volume control level on the machine from zero back to maximum?”

Hanson did.

“And now press play.”

There was a beep, then Steve Winslow’s voice came crackling over the speaker. “Good morning, Officer Hanson. This is Steve Winslow. Tell me, officer. You didn’t hear this message when I played it back just now, did you?”

41

Dirkson fired back with Oliver Branstein. Not that Dirkson thought he had to. Steve Winslow’s stunt with the answering machine was a hollow victory at best. If anything, all Winslow had managed to do was blunt Officer Hanson’s dramatic demonstration of the blinking light. Big deal. Dirkson wasn’t concerned. Wait till Winslow got a load of this.

Oliver Branstein was sworn in and testified, that he was the proprietor of the music store on West 47th Street and had been for the past seven years.

“I see,” Dirkson said. “And on the night in question-the night of June tenth-were you in your store then?”

“Yes, I was.”

“What time did you close?”

“At nine o’clock.”

“And what, if anything, did you observe?” Dirkson smiled, held up his hand. “Let me rephrase that. Mr. Branstein, does F. L. Jewelry have offices in your building?”

“Yes, they do. On the second floor.”

“And where is the entrance to the upper floors in your building-with regard to your store?”

“It is right next to my front window. See, the entrance to my store is right on the street. I have front windows on either side. To the left of my front window is the entrance to the upper floors of the building.”

“I see. So someone entering the building would have to walk past your front window?”

“Well, now,” Branstein said, “that would depend on how they came. If you were walking from Seventh Avenue, you would pass by my window and then go up the stairs. If you were coming from Sixth Avenue the stairs would be first. You wouldn’t have to pass the window.”

“I see,” Dirkson said. “Now, getting back to my question of what you observed on that evening-did you see anything through the front window with regard to people entering the building to go upstairs?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Just what did you see?”

“I saw two people enter the building.”

“Two?”

“That’s right.”

“Were they together?”

“No, they were not.”

“Then we’d better take them separately,” Dirkson said. “Who came first?”

“First was a young woman.”

“And what time was that?”

“I can’t be certain, but it was sometime between eight and eight-thirty. I think it was closer to eight.”

“That’s when you saw this woman?”

“That’s right.”

“What did she do?”