“Where are you staying?”
“With a colored family I know. Where else could I stay?”
There wasn't any comment to make and I smoked my pipe.
When Matt was brought back to the stand he seemed his old self, grinning at Wagner like a pug looking across the ring at his opponent.
Wagner stood beside the witness chair for a moment, then asked in his hard, emotionless voice, “Mr. Anthony, you have testified under oath you think about your work—your writing—practically 24 hours a day: is that what you said?”
“A part of my mind is thinking about my work all the time.”
“You let the plots 'cook' is the exact word you used. In other words, some part of your mind is concerned with your writing 24 hours a day.”
“That's right.”
“And you write seven days a week?”
“I do.”
“What part of your writing is fiction?”
Matt smiled. “It's entirely fiction.”
“Would I be correct in saying that since your writing is entirely fiction, all the characters, incidents and details in your books are a product of your own mind, Mr. Anthony?”
“You would be correct, Mr. Wagner.”
Jackson, was leaning forward, his long frame ready to leap to his feet his rugged face listening intently.
“In brief, the subject matter of your books is part of your mind, your thoughts, day after day?”
Matt nodded and the judge told him to speak up. Matt said, “That's correct.”
Wagner returned to his table where an assistant handed him a bulky briefcase. Wagner dumped about a dozen books, mostly paperbacks, and a mimeographed paper out on the table. The striking cover of the book we had recently reissued stood out. Wagner turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, these books represent the writings—the work—of Matt Anthony for the last 10 years. I wish to enter them into evidence as the State's exhibits, C, D, E...”
Jackson made his leap. “I object, your Honor. These books are works of fiction, therefore can not be considered as evidence!”
The judge held up his hands, called both lawyers to the bench. For a few minutes the three of them talked in low voices, both Jackson and the D.A. arguing vehemently. Finally they returned to their tables and the judge said, “The witness will step down. The jury will retire until I settle a point of law.”
When the jury left, Wagner stood up, said, “Your Honor, the witness has said that all day long, seven days a week, he thinks about his work. These books represent Matt Anthony's published writings for the past 10 years. In order to prove intent and premeditation, I strongly urge that it is entirely relevant to the State's case to show exactly what the defendant was thinking these last 10 years. His own writings will prove he was constantly thinking about physical violence, promiscuous sex, crime, murder and rape.”
“This is ridiculous, your Honor,” Jackson said. “The very nature of fiction means it is imaginary, therefore cannot be considered on a factual basis, nor as evidence.”
“I do not claim the contents of these books are factual, but it is a fact, according to the testimony, that these books constitute the major part of Mr. Anthony's thinking during the last 10 years. This is not my statement, but his own.”
“Your Honor,” Jackson said, “These books are a commodity manufactured by my client for a certain type market. He has to slant these books to the demands of that market, therefore—”
“They still represent his thinking, according to his own testimony,” Wagner cut in.
“I submit this is merely a cheap bit for sensationalism on the part of the prosecutor to influence the jury. I object to fiction being—”
“I will be the judge of that, Mr. Clair,” the judge told Jackson. He turned to Wagner. “Do you plan to read all these books to the jury, Mr. Wagner?”
“No, sir. I will merely read a few sentences and sum up the contents of each book. These books give us a unique opportunity to look into the mind of the defendant, for in the printed form we have his thoughts before us.”
“To put these novels into evidence will make this court the laughing stock of the bar, would be a mockery of justice and—”
“Mr. Clair, I am the judge in this court and perfectly capable of performing my duties.”
“I object to these novels as immaterial and irrelevant!” Jackson said, his face flushed with anger.
“Overruled.”
“Exception!” Jackson snapped, returning to the defense table, where Matt was busy writing. Jackson sat down and began whispering to Matt, gesturing with his hands—as if Matt were the judge.
The jury was recalled and Matt returned to the stand. Wagner picked up the mimeographed papers, asked, “Mr. Anthony, are you a member of the Mystery Writers of America?”
“Yes, although I doubt if my dues are paid up.”
“Do they publish a monthly newsletter called,
