The Innocent Woman

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?”

“Walked by my window and went in the door.”

“The door to the building?”

“That’s right.”

“Leading to upstairs?”

“That’s right.”

“You saw the woman go in this door?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you describe this woman?”

“Yes. She was a young woman with short, dark hair.”

“Had you ever seen her before?”

“I can’t be certain.”

“Well, that’s an honest answer,” Dirkson said. “Could you qualify that answer?”

“No, he could not,” Steve said. “Your Honor, while I hate to object to the prosecutor praising the veracity of his witnesses, I must object that that statement cannot be clarified. A witness is either certain or he isn’t.”

“Sustained. Could you rephrase the question, Mr. Dirkson?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Branstein, you say you cannot be certain of the identity of the person you saw going in the door?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you have any opinion as to who it might be?”

“Objection. Who it might be is not relevant.”

“Sustained.”

“Well, let me put it to you this way. Mr. Branstein, did you inform the police about the woman you saw entering the building?”

“Yes, I did.”

“After you informed the police of this, did there come a time when the police asked you to look at a lineup?”

“Yes, there did.”

“What happened at that time?”

“I was shown a lineup of five women.”

“And did you identify any of them?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

Dirkson frowned. “I didn’t ask who he identified, only if he identified anyone.”

“As what, Your Honor?” Steve Winslow said.

“Exactly,” Judge Wylie said.

“Very well,” Dirkson said. “Did you recognize anyone as the woman you saw entering the building that night?”

“I said one of the women might have been her.”

“Objection.”

“Overruled. You can cross-examine on it.”

“You say one of the women might have been her?”

“That’s right.”

“And which one was that?”

“The defendant, Amy Dearborn.”

“Now let me be sure I understand this,” Dirkson said. “The police showed you a lineup with the defendant, Amy Dearborn in it. You picked her out of the lineup and identified her as the woman who might have been the woman you saw going into the building that night?”

“That’s right.”

“You can’t be certain that she was the woman you saw going into the building at that time, but you can’t be certain she wasn’t?”

“That’s right.”

“Is there anything in the defendant’s physical characteristics that was different from the woman you saw going into the building that night?”

“No, there is not.”

“There’s nothing about her that would indicate she is not that woman?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“The short brown hair that you describe was identical to the defendant’s?”

“That is right.”

“And while you say you cannot make a positive identification, you did pick her out of a lineup?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“Did you pick the defendant out of a lineup?”

“Yes, I did.”

Dirkson smiled triumphantly. “Very good, Mr. Branstein. Now, with regard to the other person you saw. Was that a man or a woman.”

“It was a man.”

“What time did you see this man?”

“At nine o’clock.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I was just closing up my shop.”

“You always close at nine?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And you closing your shop when you saw him?”

“That’s right. I was out on the sidewalk, closing up. He walked by me and went in the door.”

“Can you describe this man?”

“Yes, I can. He was a young man with long brown hair. Shoulder length.”

“How was he dressed?”

“In a T-shirt and blue jeans.”

“What was your impression of this man?”

“He looked like a hippie. At first, I thought he was a customer come to buy a guitar. In which case he was out of luck, because I was closed. But he walked right on by and went in the door.”

“Would you know this man if you saw him again?”

Branstein frowned. “That’s a very tough question. To be absolutely fair, I would have to say no.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to testify to anything you weren’t sure of,” Dirkson said.

“Oh, Your Honor,” Steve Winslow said.

“Exactly,” Judge Wylie snapped. “Mr. Dirkson, if we could control such side comments.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. Anyway, you say it was around nine o’clock when this man went inside?”

“That’s right.”

“Mr. Branstein, let me ask you this. Did you have any reason to pay any attention to either of these individuals at the time that you saw them?”

“No, I did not.”

“You had no idea a murder had been committed?”

“No, of course not.”

“Or that the office had been robbed?”

“No. I didn’t know that either.”

“So you had no idea what you saw might be at all important?”

“No, I did not.”

“And when did you learn it might?”

“Later that evening.”

“How did that happen?”

“I received a phone call from a young woman named Tracy Garvin. She identified herself as the secretary for the attorney Steve Winslow. She told me she had an urgent matter which she needed to discuss with me and she needed to come to my apartment.”

“Which she did?”

“That’s right.”

Dirkson held up his hand. “I’d prefer not to get into what she told you. But did anyone else come to your apartment at that time?”

“Ah, yes, they did.”

“And who would that be?”

“Her boss. The attorney. Steve Winslow.”

Dirkson turned, pointed. “The same Steve Winslow who is the attorney for the defendant, Amy Dearborn?”

“That’s right.”

“He came to your apartment that night?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And what time was that?”

“It was late. Around midnight.”

“Did he tell you why he was calling on you at that hour?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And what reason did he give?”

“He explained that there had been a burglary at the jewelry store about my music shop.”

“A burglary?”

“That’s right.”

“He didn’t say there had been a murder?”

“No, he did not.”

“Did he ever tell you there had been a murder?”

“No. He referred to it only as a burglary.”

“And why had he come there at this hour to tell you about this burglary?”

“He wanted to know if I’d seen anyone going in or out of the building.”

“What did you tell him?”

Branstein spread his hands. “Just what I’ve said here in court. That I saw two people. A man and a woman.”

“Did you describe these people to him?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did he seem interested?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“You described the woman as having short brown hair?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you tell him she looked like anyone you knew? Or reminded you of anyone you knew?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Oh? And who was that?”

“I told him she looked like the woman who used to work upstairs. I think I said the only reason I hadn’t thought it was her was because she hadn’t worked there in a while.”

“And who was the woman who worked upstairs?”

“The defendant, Amy Dearborn.”

“I see. And did Mr. Winslow question you about the man you saw going upstairs?”

“Yes, he did.”

“He asked you to describe this man?”

“That’s right.”

“And how did you describe him?”

“Like I say. As a long haired hippie. Long brown hair, T-shirt and jeans.”

“And it was the defense attorney, Steve Winslow, who asked you to describe this man?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Yes, I am.”

“How can you be sure? Did Mr. Winslow look exactly as he does today?”

“Actually, he did not.”

“Oh? In what way did he look different?”

“His hair was wet and had been combed back and tucked under his collar. As a matter of fact, when he was there talking to me, I had no idea that he actually had long hair.”

“But it is the same person? You recognize Steve Winslow, even though he has long hair now?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You can identify him as the person who called on you in your apartment later that night?”

“Yes, I can.”

“But you cannot positively identify the young man with shoulder length brown hair that you saw going into your building that night?”

“No, I cannot. The fact is, I only saw him from the back.”

“But you are certain of the fact that around midnight on the night of the murder, Amy Dearborn’s defense attorney, Steve Winslow, was in your apartment asking you who you saw going in and out of the building that night?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Branstein. No further questions.”

Steve Winslow stood up. “Mr. Branstein, you were asked what reason I gave you for calling on you at that time of night, were you not?”

“That’s right.”

“I believe you said that I said that I was interested in who went in and out of the building.”

“That’s right.”

“Didn’t I also tell you that you might be a potential witness, in which case I would advise you to get in touch with the police?”

“Objection, Your Honor. Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

“It’s the same conversation, Your Honor. If the prosecution asks for part of a conversation on direct, the defense is entitled to the entire conversation on cross.”

“Objection overruled.”

“You did say something to that effect.”

“Didn’t I tell you that you might well be a witness, and didn’t I suggest that you tell me what you knew and I would then take the responsibility of advising you whether or not you needed to communicate with the police?”

“I believe you said that, yes.”

“And after you told me what you had seen, what did I advise you to do?”

“You advised me to go to the police.”

“You told me about seeing the woman?”

“Yes.”

“You told me about seeing the man?”

“Yes.”

“You described them to me? At least in as much as you’ve described them here today?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And after you did that, I advised you to tell what you knew to the police?”

“That’s right.”

“You remember telling me about the woman?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you remember comparing her to the woman who worked upstairs?”

“I don’t remember comparing her, no.”

“Did you say she looked like the woman who worked upstairs, but you knew it wasn’t her because she hadn’t been there for a while? Wasn’t that what you said on direct?”

“Yes, I said that.”

“Is it true?”

“Yes, of course.”

“The woman you saw going in looked like the defendant?”

“Yes, she did.”

“She wasn’t the defendant, she just looked like her?”

“Objection.”

“Overruled.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t the defendant. I didn’t say she wasn’t and I didn’t say she was. I only said she looked like her. She did look like her.”

“You subsequently picked her out of a lineup?”

“Yes, I did.”

“How is that possible, if you didn’t recognize her as the woman you saw going upstairs?”

“Well, I knew her.”

“Ah,” Steve said. “Now we’re coming to it. You knew the defendant?”

“Well, not personally. I mean I had seen her.”

“You mean because she worked upstairs from you? You had seen her coming and going from work?”

“That’s right.”

“So when you picked her out of a lineup, you were identifying her as the woman you knew who worked there, not as the woman you saw going into the building that night?”

“That’s not entirely true. I knew she worked there, yes. But she also looked like the woman I saw going into the building.”

“But you cannot identify her as such?”

“No.”

“And the reason you know her is because she used to work there?”

“That’s right.”

“I assume you also knew the decedent, Frank Fletcher?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You saw him going in and out of’ the building as well?”

“That’s right.”

“You knew he was one of the partners of F. L. Jewelry?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You knew that in particular because you sued F. L. Jewelry when their sink overflowed and leaked down into your shop and ruined some of your guitars?”

“Objection.”

“It shows bias, Your Honor.”

“Objection overruled. The witness will answer.”

“That’s right,” Branstein said.

“You sued the decedent?”

“I sued F. L. Jewelry.”

“On what grounds?”

“For negligence. Just as you said. Their sink overflowed, and ruined some of my instruments.”

“Was F. L. Jewelry willing to accept responsibility for this.”

“No, they were not.”

“Tell me, Mr. Branstein, before you filed suit, did you make any effort to settle this in an amicable manner.”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I told them what had happened, asked them if they wanted to make restitution.”

“Who did you tell this to?”

“Actually, Mr. Fletcher.”

“What did he say?”

“He said his attorneys could talk to my attorneys.”

“Was this said in an amicable manner?”

“Objection.”

“Sustained.”

“What was your impression of Frank Fletcher’s attitude? How did it make you feel?”

“It made me angry.”

“How angry.”

Branstein looked at Steve Winslow a moment. Then he smiled. Shook his head. “Not angry enough to kill him.”

Steve Winslow let that remark sit there a few moments. Then he smiled slightly, said, “No further questions.”