“Shhh.”
Heads turned as John Dutton walked to the stand. This was going to be delicious. The lover. The married man. The party to the late-night assignations testified to by Mrs. Rosenthal. And the thing was, he looked the part, too. Lean, tall, tanned, blond, and with that pretty-boy profile, John Dutton looked as if he might have just stepped off the screen of one of those beach-party movies. His entrance drew excited whispers from the crowd. This was going to be great.
“Your name?” Dirkson said.
“John Dutton “
“Occupation?”
“Stockbroker.”
“Mr. Dutton, are you acquainted with the defendant, Sheila Benton?”
“I am.”
“You are what might colloquially be called her boyfriend?”
John Dutton gave Dirkson what could only be considered a condescending smile. “I’m in love with her, if that’s what you mean.”
“It will do. Mr. Dutton, are you married?”
“Yes, I am. I am in the process of getting a divorce. When it is completed, I intend to marry Sheila.”
Dirkson smiled and nodded. “Thank you very much. Let me ask you this-did you know the decedent, Robert Greely?”
John Dutton appeared to wilt on the witness stand. Sheila let out a small gasp and grabbed Steve’s arm. A murmur ran through the courtroom.
Dirkson raised his voice. “Did you hear the question, Mr. Dutton? I’ll repeat it. Did you know the decedent, Robert Greely?”
Dutton wet his lips. “I had met him, yes.”
There was a reaction from everyone in the courtroom except Dirkson, who obviously had expected the answer.
“Under what circumstances, Mr. Dutton?”
“At a card game.”
“Did you meet him on more than one occasion?”
“Yes, I did.”
“When was the first time you met him?”
“I can’t remember.”
“About six months ago?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“And you have seen him several times since then?”
“I don’t know what you mean by several.”
“You tell me. How many times have you seen him?”
Dutton wet his lips again. “I got invited to a card game. It was a weekly card game. I began playing in it. Greely was a regular in the game. So I saw him on those occasions.”
“A weekly game?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re saying you saw the decedent once a week?”
“On those weeks we were both in the game. I didn’t go every week. He didn’t go every week. When I went, he was often there.”
“Did you ever see him outside of the game?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Never. Well, I might have walked out at the same time when the game broke up, but other than that, no.”
“But you did see him at the games?”
“Yes.”
“And the first time was approximately six months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Dutton, an examination of your bank account reveals that during the last six months you have withdrawn over seven thousand dollars in cash over and above your usual expenditures. Is that true?”
The air in the courtroom suddenly became electric with anticipation. Harry Dirkson did nothing to spoil the effect. He just stood there, staring evenly at the witness, waiting for the answer.
John Dutton squirmed on the stand. “I… I would have to consult my records.”
“I have subpoenaed the records from your bank. I have them right here, if you’d wish to examine them.”
Dutton rubbed his forehead. “No. That won’t be necessary. I withdrew the money.”
“And what did you do with that money, Mr. Dutton?”
Sheila grabbed Steve’s arm. “Stop him!” she said.
There was no time for Steve to weigh the pros and cons of objecting at this point. He rose to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. No proper foundation has been laid.”
Judge Crandell looked from the defense table back to the witness. Crandell was only human. The look on Dutton’s face decided the point.
“Objection overruled. Witness will answer the question.”
John Dutton looked around the courtroom. He looked trapped. Desperate. Almost as if he were going to cry.
He looked back at Dirkson. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”
The court was in an uproar. Judge Crandell banged the gavel furiously, but nothing was going to stop the stampede of reporters who were charging for the exits.
48
John Dutton came out of the elevator in his luxury East Side apartment building, walked down the hallway and put the key in the door to his apartment.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He spun around. Steve Winslow was standing there. He was obviously in no mood to be trifled with.
“All right, Dutton,” he said. “What’s the story?”
“My lawyer said I shouldn’t talk to you.”
“I don’t give a shit what your lawyer told you,” Steve snapped. “Your girlfriend is going up the river on a murder rap unless you come clean. Now, I don’t know what your lawyer told you, and I don’t know what your legal rights are, but either you start talking or I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
Dutton looked at him, gave in. “All right, come in.”
He unlocked the door and let Steve into the apartment.
“I’m glad you said that,” Steve said, following Dutton in. “I was bluffing. I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag. Now let’s have it. It was coke, wasn’t it?”
Dutton looked at him. “How’d you know?”
“Seven grand over six months is too cheap for blackmail. Besides, Greely didn’t bleed people. He was a one-bite man. So it had to be coke.”
“Well, you’re right.”
“Great. I suppose Sheila knew all about this?”
“Of course. I bought it for her.”
“What about Greely?”
Dutton walked over to the couch, sat down and rubbed his head. “Just a damn coincidence. I hadn’t seen him in about three weeks, since the last game I went to. I had no idea. You can imagine the shock when I recognized his picture in the paper. Robert Greely. Jesus. But I kept quiet about it. I didn’t think anyone would ever find out.”
“You thought wrong. What about Sheila? Did she know you knew Greely?”
“Not then. I told her when I saw her yesterday.”
“And you told her not to tell me, right?”
“My lawyer didn’t want me to tell even her. We had no idea it would ever come out.”
Dutton rubbed his head some more and looked down at the floor.
Steve stood looking at him contemptuously. “Great,” he said. “Can I use your phone?”
“Sure. Why?”
Steve walked over, picked up the phone and punched in a number. “Hello Mark, Steve. We missed a bet on John Dutton. Just because he flew to Reno doesn’t mean he couldn’t have turned around and flown back. Check all flights from Reno that would have gotten him here in time for the murder and still let him keep that appointment with his wife’s attorney that seemed like such a sweet alibi. Then check all the flights back to Reno after the murder that would have gotten him there in time to catch the flight I met him on. It’s time we stopped taking things for granted.”
Steve hung up the phone. He had been watching John Dutton during the call. Dutton had looked at him, but had not betrayed any particular emotion. “Thanks,” Steve said. He started out.
“It’s a nice idea,” Dutton called after him. “But you’re going to draw a blank.”
Steve turned back in the doorway. “That I can live with. What I can’t take is any more surprises.”
49
Sheila Benton looked at Steve Winslow through the wire screen in the visiting room at the lockup. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” she said.
Steve smiled ironically. “It would help if every now and then you would give me some little hint as to what was coming next. I might be able to plan a defense.”
“Why are you so upset? I’m the one who’s going to be convicted.”
“Oh, you’re finally starting to realize that?”