The Innocent Woman

17

Mark Taylor hung up the phone. “You’re not going to like this.”

“Oh?” Steve said.

“Yeah. The cop assigned to the case is Sergeant Stams.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Couldn’t be worse, could it? On the one hand, the guy’s not that swift. On the other, he’d like nothing better than to nail you.”

“I know. With him it’s personal. Jesus Christ, this is all I need in this situation.”

“In one way it could be good.”

“How’s that?”

“Tracy’s fingerprint. He’s the one cop who might be too dumb to find it.”

“Fine,” Steve said impatiently. “What else did you get?”

“That’s it. That’s all I know.”

“You must have something.”

“Give me a break,” Taylor said. “This is hot off the wire. If I didn’t have a pipeline into headquarters, I wouldn’t have this. The only word so far is Sergeant Stams was sent out to investigate a reported homicide at a jewelers on West 47th Street.”

“No word on who phoned it in?”

“None so far. You gotta understand. My man’s getting this information as it becomes available. He can’t show that much interest.”

“Well, could he show some?” Steve said irritably.

“Take it easy, Steve,” Tracy said. “This is my fault. There’s no need to take it out on Mark.”

“I’m not taking it out on Mark. I just want to know what the hell’s going on.”

“Don’t we all,” Taylor said. “Well, all we know now is your client’s gotten back to the jewelry store, phoned it in, and Sergeant Stams has responded. By rights he’s there now. Your client’s already told her story. And her instructions were to call as soon as the cops got cute, right?”

“Right.”

“She hasn’t called yet, so things must be fine.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He turned to Tracy. “You sure you hooked it up right?”

Tracy gave him a look. “Steve, I do this all the time. Call-forwarding’s on. If she calls the office, it will ring up here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why don’t you run downstairs and check.”

“Check what?”

“The answering machine.”

Tracy looked at him. Shook her head. “Men,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I bet you can’t program your VCR either.”

“I don’t have a VCR,” Steve said. “What’s your point?”

“For a bright man, you’re a moron when it comes to anything mechanical. How could the answering machine be on if I’m using call-forwarding? That’s the whole point. The call doesn’t go to the office, it’s transferred up here.”

“Yeah, but if that wasn’t working, wouldn’t the answering machine pick up?”

“The answering machine isn’t on. You don’t leave it on when you set call-forwarding.”

“Why not?”

Mark Taylor, who’d been looking back and forth, held up his hands. “Kids,” he said. “Let’s not quarrel. The fact is, if she gets her one phone call, I’ll get the news almost as quick as you will.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Steve said. “Still-”

The phone on Mark Taylor’s desk rang. He scooped it up. “Yeah?… What you got?” He listened a moment, said, “Get back to me,” and hung up the phone. “You’re not going to like this.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I gotta call ’em as I see ’em. Word is, Stams made an arrest.”

“Shit. They say who?”

“No, but who else? All I got is a report Stams is on his way downtown with a suspect in tow.”

“Damn it,” Steve said. “I told her the minute things got sticky to clam up and call.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t let her.”

“Let her, hell. If he took her in, he’s gotta Mirandize her.”

“Yeah, but we’re talkin’ Stams.”

“Right. If he didn’t, it’s a hell of a break.” Steve shrugged. “Except with Stams, I wouldn’t put it past him to lie and say he did.”

“Think he could get away with it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said impatiently. “But that’s beside the point. If. Amy followed instructions, the minute Stams looked at her funny she should have started screaming she wanted to call her lawyer. If she’s on her way downtown, things are not going as planned.”

“No kidding,” Taylor said. “So whaddya want to do?”

“Till she lights, there’s nothing I can do. I would like some better reports.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger,” Taylor said. “Can you suggest anything practical that I’m not doing?”

“No. Yes. There’s a man runs a music store on the ground floor. Find out who that is, whether he’s the guy was working there earlier tonight.”

“What’s the name of the store?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Makes it a bit harder,” Taylor said dryly. He snatched up the phone, punched in a number. “Mickey, it’s Mark. Consider yourself on the clock. There’s a music store on West 47th Street.” He cupped the receiver, turned to Steve. “What’s the address?”

“Damned if I know. Tracy?”

“Got it,” Tracy said. She whipped open her notebook, read the address to Mark Taylor, who relayed it over the phone.

“Got that?” Taylor said. “I want to know the name of the shop, the name of the owner, and who was working there tonight.” He turned to Steve. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Find out where the guy is now.”

“Can he know why we’re askin’?”

“The less he knows the better. Just line him up.”

“You got it,” Taylor said. He relayed the instructions and hung up the phone. “Okay,” he said. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Fletcher’s partner. Marvin Lowery. Get a line on him, find out where he was this evening. You don’t have to go back any further than five o’clock, because up till then he was in court.

“Same thing with the detective-that’s Samuel Macklin. Only in his case, after he testified I don’t think he stuck around-he had no reason to. So you have to trace his movements from mid-afternoon. Find out if he went back to his agency, or home, or whatever.”

“Will do,” Taylor said. He picked up the phone and started to dial. Another line on his phone rang. He pushed the button, took the call. “Yeah?” he snapped. Then, “No, no, wait a minute. Who are you calling?… Yeah, hang on.”

Taylor looked up from the phone. “It’s her.”