The Anonymous Client

uproar, judge Graves banged the gavel furiously, but nothing he could do was going to stop the stampede of reporters who were running for the exit.

38.
    I T MADE THE FRONT PAGE of every paper in the city, even the New York Times. Fitzpatrick’s opening statement was a smash, a stunning reversal, a dramatic bit of courtroom strategy, boldly conceding the very point the prosecution had sought to establish. It was fresh, new, and exciting, and it raised great expectations.
    It was all downhill from there.
    Dirkson played it smart. He didn’t make the big mistake of fighting Fitzpatrick, of objecting to what he was trying to do. That would have put Dirkson in the embarrassing position of arguing against the stance he himself had taken at the opening of the trial. Instead, he sat on his hands and raised no objection when Fitzpatrick called the Nassau County medical examiner to the stand to testify that Phillip Harding died from arsenic poisoning. Dirkson neither objected nor cross-examined. He merely sat at the prosecution table looking slightly bored. His attitude seemed to say that the defense was bringing out points with which the prosecution was well familiar, and unless Fitzpatrick came up with something to connect those points with his wild, fanciful theories of a conspiracy, Dirkson couldn’t be bothered. And since Fitzpatrick had no such connection to make, the Phillip Harding bombshell fizzled. Dirkson’s attitude prevailed. That attitude was, “So what?”
    The next witness was a little better.
    “Your name is Charles Miltner?” Fitzpatrick asked. “That’s right.”
    “You’re the head of the Miltner Detective Agency?”
    “I am.
    “How many people do you employ?”
    “It varies. I would say from twelve to fifteen.”
    “And is one of those a Mr. Jason Fisher?”
    “Yes, he is.”
    “Then let me ask you this. Has your agency ever been employed in any case involving the defendant, Marilyn Harding?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What were you employed to do?”
    “Place Marilyn Harding under surveillance.”
    “Were you given any specific instructions regarding that surveillance?”
    “No, sir.”
    “Nothing in particular you were supposed to watch for?”
    “No, sir.”
    “What were your instructions?”
    “Merely to place her under surveillance and report what she did.”
    “And when did the surveillance begin?”
    “On Tuesday, the eighth.”
    “At what time?”
    “At 8:00 a.m.”
    “And when did it end?”
    “Wednesday evening around 9:00 p.m.”
    “You had Marilyn Harding under surveillance from Tuesday, the eighth, at 8:00 a.m. until Wednesday, the ninth, at 9:00 p.m.?”
    “No, sir.”
    “No? I thought you said you did?”
    “No, sir. The surveillance was not continuous. We had her under surveillance during part of that time.”
    “Which part?”
    “From 8:00 am. till midnight on Tuesday, and from 8:00 am. till 9:00 p.m. on Wednesday.”
    “Was that in accordance with your instructions?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Could you elaborate?”
    “Yes, sir. The surveillance on Marilyn Harding was to be sixteen hours a day. Two eight hour shifts. The first shift from 8:00 a.m. till 4:00 p.m., the second shift from 4:00 p.m. till midnight. From midnight till 8:00 am. she was on her own.”
    “You contracted to do two eight hour shifts?”
    “That’s right.”
    “How many men per shift?”
    “Two.”
    “And Jason Fisher, in your employ, was assigned to one of those shifts?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Which one?”
    “The 4:00 p.m. till midnight shift.”
    “On both days?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “You said two men per shift. Who was his partner?”
    “Michael Reed.”
    “And the 8:00 a.m. till 4:00 p.m. shift? Who was assigned to that?”
    “Saul Burroughs and Fred Grimes.”
    “On both days?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “These two eight hour shifts were specified in the work that you were contracted to do?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And,” Fitzpatrick said, raising his voice, “who made those specifications? Who requested two eight hour shifts per day of surveillance on Marilyn Harding? Who hired you, Mr. Miltner?”
    Miltner shook his head. “I don’t know.”
    Fitzpatrick stared at him. “You don’t know?”
    “No, sir.”
    “How is that possible, Mr. Miltner? You’re a businessman. You want to get paid for your services. Who did you bill?”
    “I didn’t bill anyone. I was paid in advance and in cash.”
    “How?”
    “By messenger.”
    “By messenger?”
    “Yes, sir. An