The Naked Typist

13

Tracy Garvin was in a bad mood when Steve Winslow walked into the office the next morning. “You’re late,” she said accusingly.

Steve frowned. He was not in the best of moods himself. “Yeah, so?” he said.

“Mark Taylor’s called three times already. Wants to see you right away.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

Tracy’s eyes blazed. “He wouldn’t say.”

Steve couldn’t help grinning. No wonder she was pissed. Mark Taylor had some information she wasn’t going to hear till he got there, and he was late.

“Oh,” Steve said. “Is he coming down?”

“No, he’s hanging on the phones again. He wants you to stop up.”

“Anything happening here? Any calls?”

“No. Just Mark. Absolutely nothing is happening here.”

Steve grinned. “Okay, you win. Put the answering machine on and let’s go.”

Mark Taylor was grinning from ear to ear when they walked in. “Hi, Steve. Hi, Tracy. Sorry to hold out on you, but I had to be the one to tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

“We found her?”

“You’re kidding.” *

“Nope. I got you one naked typist, as ordered. Signed, sealed, delivered.”

“Where is she?”

“Apartment on East Eighty-eighth Street.”

“She there now?”

“Yeah.”

“Son of a bitch. How the hell’d you do that?”

Taylor shrugged. “Easy as pie. And lucky as hell, to tell the truth. When Marcie lost them last night, I sent a man to stake out David Castleton’s building. It was a long shot-the way things stood, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell the guy’d get her up to his apartment. But it was too obvious a play to pass up. So I staked a man out in front of the building, and sure enough, ten-thirty they come walking up together large as life and go in.”

“No shit.”

“None. An hour later the girl comes out alone and my man tails her home.”

“And it’s her? I mean, there’s no chance it’s the wrong girl?”

“Well, there’s a chance it’s not your client. We didn’t have a picture to go on, just a description. But it’s the same girl he picked up in the bar, all right.”

“How do you know that?”

Taylor grinned. “Marcie Keller. The girl takes her job seriously. She knew she’d fucked up, and she felt bad. So when I sent her home last night she went out to David Castleton’s apartment. She didn’t know I’d assigned a man to it, though she could have figured it out if she’d thought about it. Anyway, she went out there on her own ’cause she knew she’d fucked up and she wanted to get out of the doghouse. So she went out there and ran into my man.”

“What happened?”

“He told her to relax, he had it covered, go home and forget about it. She wouldn’t hear of it. Said she was the only one who’d seen the girl, and if she showed up, she should be there to make the I.D. Anyway, they wound up staking out the place together, and she was there when Castleton showed up with the girl at ten-thirty.”

“Jesus Christ. She follow her home, too?”

“Sure. She stayed there until the girl came out, and the two of them followed her to her apartment.” He shook his head. “That’s when they had a falling out. Marcie and my guy, I mean. This guy, Dan Fuller, figures he found the girl and got her address, that’s the assignment, they should phone it in and go home. Marcie won’t hear of it. What if she doesn’t live there, she’s calling on a girlfriend and ten minutes after they leave she comes out again? Dan argues with her but it’s no go-Marcie’s blown it once, she’s not gonna blow it again, and the long and short of it is Dan hangs it up and Marcie sits there all night watching the apartment.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.”

“Why didn’t she phone in and ask for instructions?”

“Switchboard’s closed that time of night. Service picks up, and they’ll ring me if it’s an emergency. Marcie doesn’t figure it’s an emergency, just routine. Actually, she couldn’t bear to ring me at midnight to tell me she’d done something she felt she should have done in the first place. Instead she sits there all night long, and I don’t hear of it until I get in this morning.”

“She still there?”

“Naw, she’s home now. She wouldn’t leave till I sent a man to relieve her. Even then, she put up a fight, saying the guy wouldn’t know the girl and she ought to be there to finger her for him.”

“How’d you settle that?”

“I sent Dan. He’d seen the girl, too, and she couldn’t argue with that.”

“You sure she’s still there?”

“Absolutely. Otherwise Dan would have called.”

“You know what apartment she’s in?”

“Yeah. Two-A.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s a brownstone. When the girl went in, a light came on on the second floor front. That’s Two-A.”

“That should knock out the theory of her calling on a friend.”

“Yeah, that’s what Dan said. But Marcie wasn’t taking any chances. Anyway, the name on the bell is K. Wilder. So at least the name Kelly might be right.”

“You check it out?”

“Just with information. Which doesn’t help much. They have a listing at that address, but it’s K. Wilder, too.”

Steve frowned. “Okay. Hold down the fort, Mark. Tracy and I will take a run out there.”

“Sure you don’t need another witness?” Taylor said. “I wouldn’t mind coming along.”

Steve grinned. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. And I’m sure your interest is strictly professional. But she doesn’t know you, and I don’t want to spook her.”

“Killjoy.”

“Come on, Tracy. Let’s go.”

They went out and hailed a cab. Once again, Steve had the cabbie let them off a block from the apartment. But this time it was for real. Steve didn’t like the situation at all, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

They’d been silent in the cab. As soon as it drove off, Tracy said, “How you gonna play it?”

“I don’t know. It depends on what she does. She’s gotta be surprised to see us.”

“That’s for sure.”

“So we take it slow and easy, see how she reacts. If possible, let her start explaining before we even ask her anything.”

“Think she will?”

“She should. She gave us a phony name and address. She’s gotta try to explain that away.”

“Oh yeah? Bet you another dinner the first thing she says is ‘How did you find me?’”

“No takers. Anyway, we sidestep that question and counter by asking her why she didn’t cash the check.”

“Gotcha.”

They turned the corner onto 88th Street.

Steve grabbed Tracy’s arm. “Son of a bitch!”

Halfway down the block there were two police cars with their lights flashing parked in front of a brownstone. While Steve and Tracy watched, a plainclothes cop came out followed by two uniformed cops leading a handcuffed Kelly Blaine.