The Baxter Trust

man.”
    “Oh? That’s how you felt about her?”
    “I’m afraid it is.”
    “Then you knew John Dutton was married?”
    “Yes.”
    “How did you know that?”
    “District Attorney Harry Dirkson told me so.”
    “I’m sure he did,” Steve said with a smile. “But that was after the murder, wasn’t it? You said the reason you didn’t want to talk to her was because you knew she was fooling around with a married man, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then you must have known John Dutton was married then?”
    “Well ...”
    “Did you?”
    “Well, yes, I did.”
    “I see. And how did you know he was married?”
    Mrs. Rosenthal’s eyes shifted, and Steve knew he’d hit something. “Well ...”
    “Yes?”
    “Well,” Mrs. Rosenthal said. “You have to understand, this was quite an annoyance to me. And, of course, with all this going on next to me I wanted to be sure everything was all right. I mean, if there was going to be a young man in my building all the time, I wanted to know who he was.”
    “That’s most understandable. So what did you do?”
    “Well, I saw them getting into his car one day. One of those little sports cars, you know?”
    “Yes. And?”
    “Well,” Mrs. Rosenthal said grudgingly. “I wrote down the license number.”
    “I see.” Steve was now grinning just as broadly as Dirkson had. “And then what did you do?”
    “Well ... I have a cousin who works at motor vehicles.”
    “I see. So you asked your cousin to look up the license number?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you found the car was registered to John Dutton?”
    “Yes.”
    “And then you checked with the marriage bureau and found out that John Dutton was married?”
    Mrs. Rosenthal glared at him.
    “Did you?”
    “Yes, I did,” she said angrily.
    “All because you wanted to know who this man was in case you ran into him in the hallway sometime?”
    “Well, what’s wrong with that?” Mrs. Rosenthal said testily. “Good gracious, I would think if you had someone in your building all the time you’d want to know who he was.”
    “I’m sure I would,” Steve said. He stole a look at the jury, just as Dirkson had done. “I don’t know if I’d go to such lengths to find out, but I’m sure I’d like to know.”
    Steve stood, smiling at the witness. Mrs. Rosenthal sat, glaring back.
    “Now then,” Steve said. “You say you’ve seen John Dutton enter the defendant’s apartment on many occasions. Tell me, did you ever see the decedent, Robert Greely, entering the defendant’s apartment?”
    “No I did not.”
    “Or leaving her apartment?”
    “No.”
    “Not even on the day of the murder?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You have never seen the decedent, Robert Greely, at all?”
    That’s right.
    “And you have never seen him entering or leaving Sheila Benton’s apartment?”
    “That’s right.
    “But he must have done so, since he was found murdered there, mustn’t he?”
    “I suppose so.”
    “Well then, can you tell me why it is that you have never seen the decedent, Robert Greely, entering or leaving Sheila Benton’s apartment?”
    “Because I mind my own business,” Mrs. Rosenthal snapped.
    There was a roar of laughter. It wasn’t as big as the one Dirkson had gotten, but it was the best Steve could have hoped for under the circumstances. He grinned broadly.
    “No further questions.”

46.
    “D ID YOUR MOTHER EVER TALK about your father?”
    “What?”
    Steve Winslow and Sheila Benton were sitting face-to-face in the attorney-client conference room off the court. Court had recessed for lunch right after Steve’s cross-examination of Mrs. Rosenthal. Steve was choosing to skip his lunch and was making Sheila skip hers.
    The reason, of course, was that he was obsessed with his new theory—the theory that Greely was really Sheila’s father. Not that, if Greely were, Steve really suspected Sheila might have killed him. On reflection, he had realized that that idea had just been a flash of paranoia. Even if Greely were Sheila’s father, and even if he had been in a position to upset the trust, that would have posed no threat to Sheila, and she would have had no reason to want him out of the way.
    But Uncle Max would have. That was the theory Steve was working on now. Sheila’s living father could have been a real threat to Uncle Max. He could have upset the trust and contested the will and raised bloody hell with Uncle Max’s little empire. And suppose Uncle Max had sent those