The Baxter Trust

can do is sit back and punch holes in the prosecution’s case. But I’ve got to do it selectively. When the prosecution introduces evidence that is incontestable, I have to pass it off as if it weren’t important. It does you more harm than good to have me make a big stink about something and lose. Our only chance is to treat the damaging facts as if they weren’t particularly important.”
    “I don’t agree with you.”
    “Then get another lawyer.”
    “I can’t get another lawyer. You know that perfectly well.”
    “Ask your uncle to hire you a lawyer. I’ll step out of the case.”
    She looked at him in surprise. “Why should you do that? That’s what my uncle’s been trying to get you to do all along.”
    “That’s what he wanted me to do. But if you’re convicted, I don’t want it on my conscience that you wanted another lawyer.”
    Sheila frowned. She looked down, thought that over. She looked up at him again.
    “Tell me. Do you really think what you’re doing will work?”
    Steve had been controlling himself for some time. Now he finally snapped. “How the hell should I know?” he said in exasperation. “I’ve never been in a fucking courtroom before.”
    They stood there, looking at each other.

43.
    H ARRY D IRKSON WANTED HIS HEADLINE . That was the thing he thought about during the thirty-minute recess. For Harry Dirkson was no babe in the woods. He was a veteran trial lawyer, and he knew all the ropes. And one thing he knew was, the common belief that cases aren’t tried in the papers was bullshit. Sure, jurors were instructed not to read the papers, but many of them did. And even those who didn’t couldn’t walk down the street without seeing the newspaper headlines, at least the ones in the Post and the Daily News.
    So Dirkson wanted his headline. And the thing was, when the day started, he’d thought he had it. “BLACKMAIL NOTE TIED TO GREELY.” That was the headline. It had to be. A dramatic and damning bit of evidence that had caught the defense as well as the public by surprise. It was a natural.
    Except for one thing. Reginald Steele. Goddamn Reginald Steele and his fingerprint evidence. Steele had made a hell of an impression on the stand. Too smug. Too assured. And that point Winslow had brought up, about how the knife must have been held. Steele hadn’t handled that well at all.
    It didn’t bother Dirkson that Winslow’s point had been quite valid, that it was almost inconceivable that the girl could have stabbed him holding the knife that way. Dirkson was sure she was guilty, so things like that were annoyances, rather than anything to worry about or think about. The only real difference it made, as far as Dirkson was concerned, was whether he would get his newspaper headline.
    That was the problem. Dirkson thought he had it. He thought the evidence about the typewriter was enough. But in the back of his mind was a horrible image he couldn’t get rid of. And it was this: a photograph of a hand holding a kitchen knife, with the headline above it, “LIKE A SWORD?”
    Dirkson stewed about it the whole recess. And in the end, what he decided was, he couldn’t take the chance. The evidence of the handwriting expert was good, but not good enough. Not with the way the defense had sluffed over it, and paid no attention to it. It hadn’t been built up enough.
    Dirkson had to be sure. So he would do it. He would shoot his wad. He would use the evidence he’d planned to hold for the next day, for tomorrow’s headline. He would use it today. Which meant rethinking his plan. Timing it. Ending with it, a grand finale.
    When court reconvened, Lieutenant Farron resumed the stand.
    “Now, Lieutenant,” judge Crandell said. “You are still under oath. The district attorney was questioning you on direct examination.”
    Dirkson rose, approached the witness stand. “Just a few more questions, Lieutenant. Now, you have testified that the defendant gave you this letter, People’s Exhibit number three?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Did she make any statement to you at the time concerning the letter?”
    “Yes, sir. She said she thought it was a blackmail letter. I asked her if she was a likely target for blackmail, and she told me she wasn’t because she had no money of her own and she had never done anything that anyone could blackmail her for.”
    “I see. And it was due to this statement on the part of the defendant that you decided that the matter didn’t warrant