The Naked Typist

29

For his first witness Dirkson called Joyce Wilkens, David Castleton’s cleaning lady, who testified to coming to work at nine o’clock, letting herself in with a key as was her custom and finding him lying dead on the floor. She then called the police and waited for them to arrive.

Fitzpatrick held a whispered conference with Steve Winslow, then took her on cross-examination.

“Miss Wilkens, you say you called the police?”

“That’s right.”

“How?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Where did you call them from? What phone did you use?”

“From there. The phone in the apartment.”

“So you handled the phone in the apartment?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Did you touch anything else in the apartment?”

“No.”

“While you waited for the police to arrive, where were you?”

“There.”

“In the apartment?”

“Yes.”

“And while you were waiting for them to arrive, are you sure you didn’t do anything? Start straightening up from force of habit?”

“No, I did not.”

Fitzpatrick nodded. “I see. Now, you say the body was that of David Castleton?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

The witness stared at Fitzpatrick. “I saw him. I saw the body.”

“Yes, Miss Wilkens,” Fitzpatrick said. “But the point I’m making is, how did you know who the body was?”

“He’s the man I work for.”

“I see. Tell me, how long have you worked for David Castleton?”

“Oh, must be two years now.”

“How often did you work for him?”

“Once a week.”

“You came in once a week to clean for the past two years?”

“That’s right.”

“I see,” Fitzpatrick said. “And on that particular morning you arrived at nine o’clock and let yourself in with a key, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Was that unusual, or do you always do that?”

“I always do that.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I have to get in. By nine o’clock David Castleton has left for work.”

“I see. So you get there at nine o’clock. And what time do you go home?”

“Four o’clock.”

“Is David Castleton home then?”

“No.”

“Then how do you get paid?”

“He leaves money in the foyer for me.”

“I see. So when you’re finished, you take your money, lock up and go home, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“I see,” Fitzpatrick said. “Miss Wilkens, I ask you again, how did you know the body was that of David Castleton?”

“I told you. I recognized him.”

“How? According to your testimony, you’ve never seen him. You arrive after he leaves for work and leave before he gets home. When did you ever see him?”

“I saw him when he hired me.”

“When he hired you?”

“Yes.”

“That was two years ago?”

“That’s right.”

“Have you ever seen him since?”

The witness hesitated. “I think there was once when he was home sick.”

“You think?”

“No. I remember. There was a time he was home sick.”

“You saw him then?”

“Yes. I remember, he was sick in bed. He told me to skip his bedroom, he wasn’t feeling well, he just wanted to be left alone.”

“I see. So you left him alone?”

“That’s right.”

“And that’s the only occasion you can recall seeing him since he hired you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. That’s all.”

For his next witness, Dirkson called Walter Burke, a radio patrol officer who testified to responding to a report of a possible homicide at 190 East 74th Street.

“And what did you find?” Dirkson asked.

“I found the body of a white male, some twenty-five to thirty years of age, lying face down in a pool of blood. There was a gun lying next to the body.”

“What did you do?”

“Checked for signs of life.”

“Were there any?”

“There were none.”

“So what did you do?”

“Radioed for EMS and a Crime Scene Unit.”

“That’s all.”

The defense did not cross-examine.

Next up was Detective Oswald of the Crime Scene Unit. He testified to arriving at the apartment and photographing the deceased, and a series of eight-by-ten photographs was duly marked for identification, shown to the witness, and received into evidence.

Dirkson next called Harold Kessington, who proved to be the medical examiner. Dr. Kessington was a tall, thin man with no chin and a lot of Adam’s apple. He had a rather cheerful disposition for someone who dealt so often with death, and seemed quite comfortable on the witness stand.

“And what time did you arrive at the apartment, Doctor?” Dirkson asked.

“Approximately nine forty-five.”

“Can you be more precise?”

Kessington shook his head. “No. I can tell you it was after nine-forty, and I can tell you it was before nine-fifty-that I know for sure. But the exact minute I can’t give you. But it was approximately nine forty-five.”

“And what did you find?”

“I found the body of the decedent lying face down on the floor.”

“Did you examine him at the time?”

“Of course.”

“Was he alive?”

“He was dead.”

“And what examination did you make at that time?”

Dr. Kessington smiled. “Only a very preliminary one. I determined the man was dead, and determined he had been dead for some time.”

“How could you tell that?”

“The body had cooled considerably, and the blood on the floor had coagulated.”

“I see. Did those factors tell you the time of death?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I told you this was very preliminary.”

“Did you later determine the time of death?”

“Yes, of course.”

“When was that?”

“After the body had been removed to the morgue. When I did my autopsy.”

“When was that?”

“At ten-thirty that morning.”

“Which was approximately forty-five minutes after you initially saw the body?”

“That’s right.”

“And what did you determine in your autopsy?”

“The decedent met his death due to a bullet wound to the heart.”

“A bullet wound?”

“That is correct. The bullet had entered the body through the decedent’s chest and had penetrated the left ventricle.”

“That was the sole cause of death?”

“Yes, it was.”

“I see. And was the bullet still in the body when you performed your autopsy?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Did you remove that bullet from the body?”

“Yes, I did.”

Dirkson took a small plastic bag from the prosecution table, had it marked for identification, and handed it to the witness. “Doctor, I hand you a plastic bag marked People’s Exhibit Two, and ask you if you recognize it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What do you recognize it to be?”

“This is a plastic bag containing the bullet that I removed from the body of the decedent. I scratched the initial K for Kessington, on the base of the bullet. You can see the scratches right here.”

“Thank you, Doctor. This is the bullet that you extracted from the body, the bullet that was the sole cause of death of the decedent, David Castleton?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Steve Winslow said.

Judge Wallingsford frowned. “Objection? Very well. Let’s have a sidebar.”

Fitzpatrick flashed Steve Winslow a glance of inquiry. Steve shook his head slightly, indicating let’s not discuss it here, and motioned toward the sidebar. Fitzpatrick got up, and he and Steve Winslow walked over to meet Judge Wallingsford, who had come down from his bench.

Dirkson bustled up, looking miffed. “What are you objecting to?” he demanded.

“The question is leading and suggestive,” Steve said. “And assumes facts not in evidence.”

“What?” Dirkson said, incredulously.

Judge Wallingsford held up his hand. “One moment,” he said. “Let me handle this. Mr. Winslow, I have to agree with the district attorney. The question might technically be considered leading, but all the facts he summarized were already testified to by the witness. So the objection is hardly valid.”

“I beg Your Honor’s pardon,” Steve said, “but the question is leading and suggestive, and some of the points summarized are not in evidence.”

“Nonsense,” Dirkson said. “He already identified that bullet as being the one he extracted from the body, and he already testified that it was the sole cause of death.”

“No problem there,” Steve said. “But you also referred to the decedent, David Castleton.”

“Of course,” Dirkson said.

Steve shook his head. “That’s what’s leading and suggestive and assuming facts not in evidence. To date, we have had no testimony that the body is indeed David Castleton.”

Dirkson stared at him. “But that’s absurd.”

“Not at all.”

“And we have testimony.” Dirkson said. “The testimony of the maid who found the body.”

“Who admitted on cross-examination that she comes to work after he’s left for the office and leaves before he gets home in the afternoon. A witness who saw him once two years ago when he hired her. Who saw a facedown corpse on the living-room floor. I do not consider such testimony sufficient to make a positive identification.”

Judge Wallingsford. “Are you questioning the matter of identity, Mr. Winslow?”

“No, Your Honor. I’m merely asking for orderly proof. So far, there’s been no conclusive proof that the body was that of David Castleton, and I object to the prosecutor leading the witness by stating the fact that it was.”

Judge Wallingsford took a breath. “Mr. Winslow. You are perhaps within your rights, but don’t you think you’re being a little over technical?”

“Perhaps, Your Honor. But if I’m going to err at all, I’m going to err on the side of the defendant. I stand on my objection.”

“In which case, the objection will be sustained. Gentlemen, this is a rather minor matter. Mr. Dirkson, do you think you could save us some trouble by rephrasing your question?”

“Very well,” Dirkson said shortly. He glared at Steve Winslow and stomped off.

As Steve sat back down, Kelly Wilder grabbed his arm. “What was that all about?”

“Not important,” Steve said.

“Yes, but-”

“Shhh.”

Judge Wallingsford had returned to the bench. “Mr. Dirkson, would you please rephrase your question?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Doctor, referring to the bullet, People’s Exhibit Two, is that the bullet that you removed from the body during your autopsy, the bullet that you referred to as the sole cause of death of the decedent?”

“That’s right.”

Steve Winslow grinned as he watched the faces of the jurors during that question and answer. Of course the jurors couldn’t hear what was going on during the sidebar, so Steve knew, human nature being what it was, the jurors were all listening to how the question was rephrased to try to figure out just what the objection had been. From the puzzled frowns on their faces, he was sure none of them could tell the slightest difference.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Dirkson said. “Tell me this. Did you determine the time of death?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what time was that?”

“To the best I could determine, the decedent met his death some time between the hours of eleven o’clock and twelve midnight on the night of June twenty-eighth.”

“And your autopsy was performed on the morning of June twenty-ninth?”

“That is correct.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Your witness.”

Fitzpatrick flashed a glance of inquiry at Steve Winslow. Steve leaned across Kelly Wilder and whispered, “Take him on the time element.”

Fitzpatrick nodded. He stood up and approached the witness. “Between eleven o’clock and midnight, Doctor?”

“That’s right.”

“How did you arrive at that figure?”

“Primarily from the body temperature.”

“Could you elaborate on that, Doctor?” Fitzpatrick smiled. “In as nontechnical terms as possible?”

Doctor Kessington smiled back. “Certainly. As you know, a person’s normal body temperature is ninety-eight point six degrees Fahrenheit. When a person dies, the body begins to cool and the temperature begins to drop. Since the rate of cooling is a constant, approximately one and a half degrees Fahrenheit per hour, by taking the body temperature of the corpse it is possible to determine when the person died.”

“I see. And that is what you did in this case?”

“Exactly. If I might consult my notes?”

“Please do.”

Doctor Kessington pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and paged through it. “Here we are. In this instance, I took the body temperature at ten-thirty A.M. on June twenty-ninth. The body temperature was eighty-two degrees Fahrenheit. A drop of sixteen and a half degrees from ninety-eight point six. Dividing by one and a half degrees per hour, I can compute that the man died approximately eleven hours prior to the time I took the temperature.”

“I see,” Fitzpatrick said. “Tell me, Doctor. Was that the only means you used to determine the time of death?”

Doctor Kessington shook his head. “Certainly not. That was the primary means, but I verified my findings by checking the stomach contents.”

“The stomach contents, Doctor?”

“Yes. Since digestion ceases after death, by checking the stomach contents and seeing how far digestion has progressed, it is possible to determine when a person died relative to when they ingested their last meal.”

“I see. And in this particular case?”

“In this case, the stomach contents included a partially digested meat that proved to be veal. The extent to which digestion had progressed indicated the decedent had died approximately three hours after ingesting the veal.”

“Three hours, Doctor?”

“That’s right.”

“Tell me, Doctor, how does that verify your finding that the decedent died between eleven and twelve that night?”

Doctor Kessington smiled. “In and of itself, it doesn’t. It does not tell us the time of death. As I stated, it only pinpoints the time of death relative to his last meal. I don’t personally know when the decedent ate his last meal. But I understand that fact is known and will be brought out in evidence in this trial. And that fact was communicated to me, and based on that hearsay evidence, which I can’t testify to, I was able to use the stomach contents to verify my own personal findings based on the body temperature that the decedent died between eleven and twelve.”

“I see. But in verifying those findings, you are relying on what people told you regarding when the decedent ate his last meal?”

“That is correct.”

“And if those people were mistaken, then you could be mistaken?”

Dr. Kessington frowned.

“Can’t you answer that, Doctor?”

“Yes, I can. I wish to phrase my answer so as to be absolutely fair. The figure I gave you-three hours from the time the decedent ate the veal till the time he died-that is a constant. That would not change, regardless of the accuracy of what anyone told me. As to the exact time of the day the victim died, that of course would be affected.”

“I see. Now you say he died three hours after he ate his last meal. You also say he died between the hours of eleven and twelve. The median time would be eleven-thirty. Three hours prior to that would be eight-thirty. Working backward, from your personal medical findings, and not based on anything anyone told you, is it your personal opinion that the decedent ate his last meal at eight-thirty on the night that he died?”

Dr. Kessington nodded. “That is correct.”

“Fine, Doctor. Then let me ask you this hypothetical question. From District Attorney Harry Dirkson’s opening statement, there is reason to believe that we will hear testimony that the decedent ate a long and leisurely meal. If it should turn out that the decedent was not actually served his veal until nine o’clock, would that change your findings any? You say three hours is a constant. Would you then say, the decedent probably died at midnight, midnight is the median time, he could have died between eleven-thirty and twelve-thirty?”

Dr. Kessington shook his head. “No, I would not.”

“Why not, Doctor?”

“As I said, digestion is merely a secondary factor in verifying the time of death. The primary method, body temperature, is the more precise method, and the one on which I would rely. It indicated death between eleven and twelve, and that is the finding I would rely on. If the stomach contents indicated the time of death to be around midnight, I would take that as a confirmation rather than a contradiction of that finding.”

Fitzpatrick nodded. “Very well put, Doctor. And you say the body temperature indicated that the time of death was between eleven and twelve o’clock?”

“Yes. As I’ve stated several times.”

“It could have occurred at midnight, Doctor?”

“It could. But that is an outside limit. The optimum time would be around eleven-thirty. Eleven and twelve are outside limits.”

“But death could have occurred at twelve o’clock?”

“It could.”

“Could it have occurred at twelve-oh-one?”

For the first time, Doctor Kessington appeared annoyed. “Now you’re splitting hairs, Counselor.”

“Maybe I am, but I’d still like the question answered. Are you telling me death could have occurred at twelve o’clock, but could not have occurred at twelve-oh-one?”

“No, I’m not,” Dr. Kessington said irritably. “I’m a reasonable man attempting to make a rational answer. My expert findings indicate death occurred between eleven and twelve. If you want to stretch that by one minute, obviously there is no argument I can make against it that will not sound ridiculous.”

“I appreciate your dilemma, but I would still like a yes or no answer. Could death have occurred at twelve-oh-one?”

Dr. Kessington took a breath. He glared at Fitzpatrick. “It is stretching the bounds of likelihood,” he said. “But the answer is yes.”

Fitzpatrick nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. So,” he said breezily, “if I understand you correctly, you are now testifying that your expert medical findings indicate the decedent met his death sometime on June twenty-eighth or sometime on June twenty-ninth. Thank you. That’s all.”

Dirkson roared an objection, and Judge Wallingsford admonished Fitzpatrick for the comment.

As Fitzpatrick sat down, Steve Winslow leaned across Kelly Wilder and nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”