The Anonymous Client

last witness of the day was Margaret Millburn, Donald Blake’s next door neighbor, who testified to hearing an altercation in Bradshaw’s apartment, and calling the police to report it. She was not sure of the exact time, but placed it around five-thirty.
    As Fitzpatrick rose to cross-examine, Steve Winslow watched the witness with some interest. Margaret Millburn was not an unattractive woman. She was of medium height, full-figured, but not fat. Curly brown hair framed a face that was attractive but hard. Steve put her age about thirty-five.
    And she was nervous.
    Steve Winslow hadn’t had a lot of courtroom experience, but he had good instincts, and he could tell. There was something in the witness’s manner that was not right. Maybe it was the way she shifted her eyes, maybe it was the way she gripped the witness stand, maybe it was merely the way she sat. Steve Winslow didn’t know. But whatever it was, it was something. That, coupled with the fact that Dirkson’s direct examination had been very brief, told Steve Winslow that there was something the witness was holding back.
    And Steve realized, if he could see it, it was a cinch Fitzpatrick could see it too.
    “Miss Millburn,” Fitzpatrick said, “you say you heard the sounds of an altercation coming from the victim’s apartment?”
    “That’s right.”
    “What kind of altercation?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You tell me. What did you hear?”
    “The sound of things being knocked over. Furniture being smashed.”
    ‘Did you hear voices?”
    “Voices?”
    “Yes. Did you hear voices? Was it also a verbal altercation? Did you hear the sounds of an argument?”
    “Yes, I did.”
    “Really? You didn’t mention that on direct examination.”
    “I wasn’t asked.”
    “No, you weren’t, Miss Millburn. Now why do you suppose that was?”
    “Objection, Your Honor.”
    “Sustained.”
    “Did you know you weren’t going to be asked about voices on direct examination?”
    “Objection.”
    “Sustained as to form.”
    “Miss Millburn, when you gave your testimony, was there any intention in your own mind not to mention the fact that you heard voices?”
    “Objection, Your Honor.”
    “Overruled. Witness will answer the question.”
    “Yes, there was.”
    “And why was that?”
    “Because I couldn’t hear the voices clearly enough to identify them, and Mr. Dirkson told me—”
    “Objection, Your Honor!”
    “No, no,” Fitzpatrick said, grinning broadly. “Tell us. What did District Attorney Dirkson tell you?”
    Judge Graves banged the gavel. “That will do,” he snapped. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, it is not your place to rule on objections, it is mine. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, Your Honor.”
    “In this case, the objection is overruled. The witness is explaining why she refrained from mentioning certain things in her testimony. It is entirely relevant. The witness will answer the question.”
    “You didn’t mention voices because of something District Attorney Dirkson told you?”
    “That’s right. He said that since I couldn’t recognize the voices, there was no reason I should mention them unless specifically asked.”
    “I see,” Fitzpatrick said, grinning. “Now then, you are being specifically asked. The fact is, you heard voices?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You say you couldn’t recognize them?”
    “No.”
    “Are you familiar with the voice of the decedent, Donald Blake?”
    “Not really.”
    “You were next door neighbors. You had never been to his apartment?”
    “No.”
    “Surely you must have bumped into him in the hall.”
    “He’d only lived there a couple of months. I’d bumped into him a few times.”
    “Just to say hello in passing?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Then you had heard his voice?”
    “Yes. I had.”
    “Was one of the voices you heard arguing that of Donald Blake?”
    “I tell you, I couldn’t hear the voices well enough to identify them.”
    “But one of them might have been Donald Blake?”
    “Objection.”
    “Sustained.”
    “Miss Millburn, although you couldn’t identify the voices, could you hear clearly enough to tell that there were two?”
    “No, I could not.”
    Fitzpatrick raised his eyebrows. “You’re stating that there were not two voices?”
    “No, I’m not. There might have been two. I’m merely saying I couldn’t identify them.”
    Fitzpatrick stopped, frowned. “Miss Millburn, have the police or the prosecution at any time asked you to listen to the