The Innocent Woman

33

“Nice work,” Mark Taylor said. “You got ’em on the run.”

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “What you did with the doctor was great.”

“Yeah, but what’s it prove?” Steve said. “That’s the fatal bullet and everybody knows it.”

“You think the judge will strike the testimony?” Taylor said.

“Not a prayer.”

“Then why bother?”

“Are you kidding?” Tracy said. “The jury ate it up. Who cares what it proves?”

“You got anything, Mark?” Steve said. “The cross-examination may look good, but I happen to be firing blanks.”

“What I got ain’t good,” Taylor said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Dirkson’s trying to prove a relationship, right? Between her and the stiff? There’s witnesses they went out together. To some of these trendy clubs. They’ll testify they were pretty close.”

“We knew that, Mark. What about drugs?”

“What about ’em?”

“The doctor gave me a kick in the chops, with the test positive for cocaine. I bore down on him like I caught him trying to snatch the royal jewels, but at the same time I’m kicking myself in the head.”

“Why?”

“What you just said. The cops can link Amy Dearborn and Frank Fletcher, prove they were running around these trendy clubs. Now throw in cocaine. Throw in the idea Amy was fired for pilfering petty cash, and the fact money was taken in this case, and you start to paint a picture in the mind of the jurors.”

“Oh, shit,” Taylor said.

“So, you’re right. Your info’s a kick in the head. You got anything else?”

“No. I’m working on Macklin, but he’s a tough nut to crack. I can’t go at him directly, and the guy has few friends. All I’m getting is gossip.”

“Nothing wrong with gossip. What’s the word?”

“Man likes to play the ponies.”

“Oh?”

“Goes to the track whenever he can, and when he can’t, OTB.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what it’s worth. But with a compulsive gambler it’s sort of like drugs. When there’s a case where there’s money missing, it’s worthy of note.”

“It certainly is.”

“Only problem,” Taylor said, “is the info I get is the guy usually wins.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said. “What about Lowery?”

“Even worse,” Taylor said. “Respectable family man. Quiet home life. Only vices appear to be fishing and golf.”

“Hard to smear a man with that,” Steve said. “Okay, keep digging. The man must have some faults.”

“Fine,” Taylor said, without enthusiasm. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. The boyfriend. Larry Cunningham.”

“What about him?”

“Frankly, I wish he’d get hit by a truck. The guy’s so eager to give her an alibi, his story isn’t worth shit. Worse than that, he’ll prejudice the jury against her, because he’s so clearly lying.”

“I’ll buy that,” Taylor said. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

“Check him out. Bad as he is, see if he’s worse. Anything about him the prosecution’s going to hit me with, I want to know about it before they do. Get his story up and down and get it nailed. Check with the guy he had the meeting with. Find out when he got there. Check with the waiters in the restaurant, find out when he left. Give me enough to show this guy what he’s up against before he gets on the stand and says something he can’t prove. Or rather, something Dirkson can disprove. Anyway, run a check on him and find out what makes him tick.

“While you’re at it, check out Oliver Branstein.”

“Who?”

“The guy from the music store.”

“Why?” Taylor said. “We know the story on him. He’s a highly uncredible witness. Dirkson’s gonna try to build him up. We know that for sure, ’cause the guy’s in his hip pocket and won’t give us the time of day. There’s nothing much I can do.”

“I know, Mark. But check the guy out.”

“Why?”

“Let’s not overlook the obvious. The guy runs the music store downstairs. He and Frank Fletcher were neighbors. How well did they know each other? Did they get along?”

Mark Taylor’s eyes widened. “You mean check him out as a suspect?”

“Just check him out, Mark. If he knew Fletcher, I want to know.”