The Innocent Woman

15

Mark Taylor flopped his two hundred and twenty pounds into Steve Winslow’s overstuffed clients’ chair, cocked his head at the attorney and said, “This better be important. I happen to have a date.”

“Oh?” Steve said.

“The young lady in question was not pleased. If this terminates the relationship, it will be reflected in your bill.”

“You’re already on time and a half for after hours, Mark.”

Mark Taylor ran his hand through his curly red hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Small consolation,” he said. “I’ve been trying to get a date with this girl for a month.”

“Girl?” Tracy said.

Mark Taylor looked at her. “Huh?”

“Mind if I jump in here?” Steve said. “Tracy is about to take exception to your calling a grown woman a girl. Fascinating as that might be, we do happen to have this murder on our hands.”

“Murder?” Taylor said.

“That’s why you’re here,” Steve said. “So let me give you a rundown of the facts. This evening, at approximately ten P.M., the body of Frank Fletcher was discovered in his office at F. L. Jewelry on West 47th Street by a Miss Amy Dearborn.”

Mark Taylor frowned, held up his hand. “Whoa. Just a minute. Reality check. Did you say this evening?”

“Yes.”

“Did you say the body was discovered at ten P.M.?”

“Yes, I did. You got a problem with that?”

“A small one,” Taylor said.

“And what is that?”

“Unless my watch is stopped, it happens to be nine forty five.”

“Yes, I believe it is.”

Mark Taylor shook his head. “I don’t want anything to do with this.”

“I can’t believe your attitude,” Steve said.

“Oh no?” Taylor said. “You didn’t just tell me about a murder that hasn’t been reported yet?”

“Did I say that?”

“You said it was discovered at ten o’clock.”

“That’s an approximation, Mark.”

“I don’t give a shit what it is. If you know about a murder the cops don’t, you’re in bad. Now you’ve told me, and I’m in bad.”

“No, you’re not, Mark. What I say isn’t binding, it’s hearsay. You don’t know about a murder. And even if you do, it’s your own damn fault.”

“Huh?”

“For getting here so fast. If you’d taken another half hour to get here, you’d be feeling fine. If you got here at ten-fifteen and I told you a murder was discovered at ten o’clock, you wouldn’t give it a second thought.”

Taylor stood up, put up his hand. “Steve,” he said. “You can kid around with the happy horseshit all you want. But this is where I draw the line. You’ve come close to costing me my license before. With your smooth talk and your there, there, everything will be all right. If you know about a murder before the cops do, and you’re not tellin’ them you know, you’re an accessory. You say, ‘Don’t I like your business?’ I like my business. I wanna keep my business. So if you don’t mind, I’m going in the outer office, I’m calling this girl, or woman, or whatever, and if she’s still talking to me I’m taking her out on a date and forgetting this whole thing ever happened. Which, considering what you told me, is a concession in itself.”

“Okay, Mark,” Steve said. “But I should tell you what you’re turning down.”

“I know what I’m turning down. A chance to get an ulcer or have a heart attack. Not to mention lose my license and go to jail. Thanks all the same.”

Mark Taylor started for the door.

“It’s Tracy this time,” Steve said.

Taylor stopped. Turned back. “What?”

“Just thought you should know. Tracy saw the body. She’s the one on the hook.”

Taylor sighed. “Aw, hell.” He rubbed his forehead, walked over and flopped back down in the chair. “All right,” he said. “Let’s have it.”