The Innocent Woman

9

Amy Dearborn could hardly contain herself.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” she said.

Tracy Garvin patted her arm. “I know.”

“And so quickly. My god, the jurors weren’t gone twenty minutes.”

“I’m surprised they took that long.”

“I don’t know how I can ever repay him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I heard what he said, but-”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

Amy and Tracy were standing on the steps outside the courthouse. The verdict had been announced minutes before, disposing of the entire case in one day, a consummation not only devoutly to be wished, but beyond Judge Dalrymple’s wildest dreams. Steve Winslow had turned Amy Dearborn over to Tracy Garvin and asked her to wait, saying there were a few details he wanted to take care of.

Amy Dearborn looked at her watch. “It’s getting late,” she said. “I do want to thank him, but maybe I should come by the office.”

Tracy Garvin frowned. “He said to wait.”

“I know that. It’s just…I don’t know. It’s hard to hold still. I want to keep moving.”

“I’m sure he won’t be long,” Tracy said with a slight edge in her voice. After all Steve had done, it was a little much, this woman not being willing to wait. She was about to say something to that effect when Steve came out the door.

Amy Dearborn’s eyes lit up. “Mr. Winslow, I just can’t thank you enough. I’ve been going crazy out here waiting to tell you. Where did you go?”

“I told you, I had some business to take care of.” Steve reached into his pants pocket and, with a bit of a flourish, pulled out some money. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Amy Dearborn blinked. “What?”

“It’s not much, I’m afraid, but forty dollars is forty dollars.”

“Forty dollars?”

“Yes. Two twenty dollar bills. With quite a history. If you don’t need to spend them, you might want to frame them.”

“You got them to release the court exhibit?” Tracy said.

“Of course I did. This money was removed from her person. If she didn’t steal it, it’s rightfully hers.” Steve held it out to Amy. “Here you go.”

Amy put up her hand. “Please. You should keep it.. After all you’ve done.”

Steve smiled. “Thanks all the same, but I’d rather not. If it got out I was charging forty bucks for a day in court, it would be hard to explain. I’d rather leave things just as they are.”

“But you have to be paid.”

Steve shook his head, “Not for this. You gave me a dollar. Provisional retainer just to make it legal. Well, that’s all the money I expected to see from this case.” Steve held up one finger. “On the other hand, F. L. Jewelry fired you without cause, had you arrested and charged you with theft. That charge was without foundation, has been proven so in a court of law. I would expect a jeweler to have both assets and insurance.”

Amy looked at him. “Do you mean…?”

“I think you’re entitled to some compensation for what you went through. If you agree, I’d be happy to file suit in your behalf. In which case, I would feel justified in taking a fee.” Steve held up his hand. “But that’s beside the point, and I wouldn’t want you to file suit just for that reason. But the way I see it, yes, we’re happy you got off. You did nothing wrong, so you should have got off.

“On the other hand, Fletcher and Lowery did something wrong, so why should they get off? Macklin too.”

Amy frowned. “Mr. Macklin? Why him?”

“Why not. He’s the one who came up with the stupid plan in the first place. Planting the twenty dollar bills, and then letting everyone get a hold of them. Some plan.

“But the point is, in a case like this you file suit against everyone. Because Fletcher and Lowery will try to shift the blame to him anyway, and he’ll try to dump it back on them. You don’t worry about that. You name everyone, and let the jury award damages and apportion blame.”

“Just what does that mean?”

“Well, say the jury finds in your favor and awards you a hundred thousand dollars. Then they might decide the fault was ninety percent F. L. Jewelry and ten percent Macklin’s. Then the jewelry company’d give you ninety thousand, he’d give you ten.”

Amy’s eyes were wide. “A hundred thousand dollars?”

Steve smiled. “That’s just a for instance. And I would take a third, as my fee. That’s the way these things work. On a contingency basis. I only get paid if there’s a settlement, and then I get a third.”

Amy frowned. “I see.”

“So would you like me to go ahead and file suit?”

Amy exhaled. Shook her head. “Let me call you tomorrow about that. Everything’s happened so fast. I haven’t really had time to think. I’m very grateful, but I just don’t know.” She looked at her watch. “Listen, it’s late, I’ve got to go. I just want to thank you again. For everything. You don’t know what it means. Anyway, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” Steve said.

Amy put up her hand. “No, no. That’s fine. Thanks. You’ve done so much already. I’ll be just fine.”

With that she turned and hurried away down Centre Street.

“Well,” Steve said, “what do you make of that?”

“What do you make of it?”

“Well, as a wild guess, I’d say she were going to meet her boyfriend.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“Oh? Well, where do you think she’d going?”

“I don’t know. But do you have to put a sexist connotation on it?”

“I wasn’t aware I was,” Steve said. “Would you prefer some generalization like, Women, who can understand ’em?”

“What a prince,” Tracy said. “That’s much better. If I’d known you were so sensitive, I’d have asked you out to dinner.”

“I happen to have an engagement,” Steve said. “But can I drop you somewhere?”

Tracy looked at him a minute. “No,” she said. “I think I’ll walk off to the subway, so you can speculate on where I’m going.”

Steve watched her go.

He shrugged.

Under his breath he muttered, “Women, who can understand ’em?”

10.

STEVE WINSLOW’S ANSWERING MACHINE was blinking. He saw it the minute he came in the door. Which was not surprising. In his small, Greenwich village studio apartment, he saw everything the minute he walked in the door. There were three blinks, meaning three messages. Steve sighed. He hated messages.

Steve clicked the machine on, flopped down on the couch.

Beep.

“Steve, Tracy. Amy Dearborn called. Wants to see you at once. She was very upset, but she wouldn’t tell me why. Call me at home.”

Beep.

“Mr. Winslow, it’s Amy Dearborn. You gotta help me. Please. Meet me at F. L Jewelry. No, that won’t do. Call me at 555-0372. Oh, I can’t stay here. Shit. Oh, I don’t know. Oh, damn it to hell.”

Steve Winslow leaned back on the couch. He rubbed his head.

Beep.

“Steve, Tracy. I’m at the office. Call me right away.”

Steve switched off the machine, snatched up the phone, punched in the number.

Two rings, then Tracy’s voice, “You have reached the office of attorney Steve Winslow. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Steve cursed, slammed down the phone. He jerked it up again, went to dial the number Amy Dearborn had left. Realized he didn’t know it.

Steve lunged, hit the answering machine again. He waited impatiently through Tracy’s first message. Then Amy’s message. Then the number.

Steve suddenly realized he didn’t have a pencil. He switched the machine off, kept saying the number over and over again, then punched it in.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Five rings.

No answer.

Shit.

Had he gotten it right?

Steve stood for a minute, staring at the phone and the answering machine. Then turned and ran out the door.