The Naked Typist

36

After Phil Danby’s testimony, the next witnesses were somewhat of an anticlimax. Dirkson couldn’t help that, but he was sharp enough to know it and to compensate for it. He simply shifted gears, quickly, coolly and methodically tracing David Castleton’s last moments on the night of his death.

First he called the bartender from the singles bar on Third Avenue, who testified that David Castleton had showed up sometime in the vicinity of six-thirty to seven o’clock. David Castleton was a regular there, the bartender knew him well, and there was no doubt about it. He’d been at the bar, drinking and talking with a young woman who was not the defendant. But he had not left with her. He had left her at the bar to go talk to another woman who had just arrived. The bartender could not identify that woman as the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder, and was forced to admit he had not been paying that much attention. Nor could he testify that David Castleton had left with this woman. All he knew was that from that point on he didn’t recall seeing him again.

Next up was the cabdriver who testified to picking up a young man and woman outside the singles bar and taking them to Gino’s, a small Italian restaurant on the upper East Side. The cab-driver could not identify the man, but testified that he thought the woman was the defendant. His identification of her was shaky at best, and on cross-examination Fitzpatrick all but made him retract it.

That turned out to be a moot point, because next up were the waiter and maitre d’ from Gino’s, both of whom knew David Castleton well and identified him absolutely, and both of whom were equally positive the woman he had dined with was Kelly Clay Wilder. The waiter also testified that he had served the veal no later than nine o’clock, and would not budge, despite a grueling cross-examination by Fitzpatrick.

Next came the cabdriver who had picked up a young man and woman and driven them from the restaurant to David Castleton’s apartment. He introduced his trip sheet, which showed the time of the pickup, ten-twenty, and the exact address of the apartment, 190 East 74th Street. He could not identify the man as David Castleton, but his identification of Kelly Clay Wilder as the woman carried conviction. The cabdriver was young, cocky, slightly arrogant and obviously fancied himself as something of a stud. The jury had no trouble believing he would take particular notice of a woman as attractive as Kelly Wilder.

On cross-examination Fitzpatrick did a good job in forcing him to admit that he had not seen these two people enter the building where he had taken them and that for all he knew the defendant could have said good-night to the young man and walked off down the street.

But that didn’t faze Dirkson. When Fitzpatrick was done, Dirkson simply stood up on redirect and said, “And what time was it when you dropped off these two people, one of whom was the defendant, Kelly Clay Wilder?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“And once again, what address did you take them to?”

“One ninety East 74th Street.”

Dirkson smiled and said, “That’s all.”

And when the defense had no further questions of the witness, Dirkson smiled again and rested his case.