The Naked Typist

16

Tracy Garvin was at her desk when Steve Winslow pushed open the door.

“She call yet?” Steve said.

“No. What’s up?”

“What about Mark? Did he call?”

“I thought you were just with him.”

“I was. I mean while I came down in the elevator.”

Tracy looked at him. “No, he didn’t call. What’s going on?”

Steve ran his hand over his head, exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’m a little worked up. We’re waiting on the medical report.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Mark’s man called in the with the medical report, but we were tied up and couldn’t take it. The guy hasn’t called back yet, and Mark can’t reach him.”

“Then what are you doing down here?”

“I wanted to see if the girl called.”

“You could have called me.”

Steve waved his hand. “I know, I know. I just had to get out of there. Mark was driving me nuts.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“I more or less sent his detectives underground.”

“What?”

“Marcie Keller and Dan Fuller. Mark and I had a talk with them. Afterward they took off. If Marcie Keller has her way, I doubt if we’ll be seeing them again for a while.”

Tracy took off her glasses, folded them up. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me you told them not to talk?”

“No. We told them exactly what had happened, told them everything we knew and advised them if it became relevant it was their duty to go to the cops.”

“Then why is Mark upset?”

“Because Marcie Keller’s interpretation of what’s relevant is apt to be rather narrow.”

“So, you basically threw on a coat of legal whitewash and told the detectives to disappear.”

“I’m sure that’s how the police would interpret it.”

“No wonder Mark’s upset.”

The phone rang. Tracy scooped it up, said, “Steve Winslow’s office.” She looked up at Steve. “It’s Mark.”

Steve was too worked up to bother going into his office to take the call. He walked over to the desk and took the phone from Tracy. “Yeah, Mark.”

“The guy called back with the medical report.”

“And?”

“It’s the worst. They put the time of death last night between eleven and twelve.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. We’re in it now, so what the hell do we do?”

“Notify your detectives immediately.”

“I don’t know where they are.”

“That, of course, makes it harder.”

“Damn it, Steve, it’s not funny. What do I do?”

“I told you. Notify your detectives. Make every effort to reach ’em. That’s all you can do right now.”

“Steve, I don’t like it.”

“I hate it like hell, but there you are. They charge the girl yet?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Okay, keep digging.”

Steve hung up the phone.

“So?” Tracy said.

“They put the time of death between eleven and twelve last night.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So what’re you gonna do?”

“You heard what I told Mark.”

“Yeah. So what about you? What’s your responsibility in this?”

“Absolutely none. I have professional privilege. I’m protecting the confidence of a client.”

“Is she a client?”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Damn it. You know, you always ask the key questions. She was a client. And I have every expectation she’s gonna be calling me any minute. But the fact of the matter is, no, my job for her was finished and all this other shit I did on my own. Damn, why hasn’t she called yet?”

“Why wait?”

“What?”

“Why wait for the phone call? Why don’t you just go down there and see her?”

“As her attorney?”

“Yes.”

Steve sighed again. “That’s the whole thing, Tracy. I don’t know what her story is. It sure wasn’t what she told us-at least, not entirely. So what have we got? We’ve got some woman prancing around in the nude, extorting money from businessmen, having rendezvous with young playboys who wind up dead. I don’t know what’s going on, but until I hear her story I don’t wanna commit myself to being her lawyer. If it turns out she killed David Castleton, I don’t wanna have anything to do with her.”

“There may have been extenuating circumstances.”

“Maybe so. But you know, I don’t give a shit. Self-defense, maybe, but I still don’t like it. The guy’s unarmed and she plugs him with a thirty-two? She’d have to have a damn good story to get me to argue self-defense on that.”

Steve shrugged. “If she calls me up, it’s a different story. I’ll go down, listen to what she has to say. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to look elsewhere.”

“What if she doesn’t call?”

“I don’t know. We’re getting more information all the time. Sooner or later I’ll figure out what the hell I’m going to do. But right now I don’t know.”

The phone rang. Tracy picked it up, said, “Steve Winslow’s office,” listened a moment, said, “Hold on.” She covered the mouthpiece and looked up at Steve. “It’s her.”