The Naked Typist

25

Harold Fitzpatrick ran a hand through his curly white hair, cocked his head at Steve Winslow and said, “I understand you have a case.”

Steve Winslow looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Fitzpatrick said.

“You,” Steve said. He jerked his thumb at the newspaper lying on Fitzpatrick’s desk. “It’s on the front page of the Daily News, but you understand I have a case.”

Fitzpatrick smiled. “You don’t like my choice of words? All right, I know you have a case. This girl-the naked one-tell me, how is she?”

“Not too well. She’s in jail.”

“I know that. I mean, what is she like?”

“She has large breasts.”

Fitzpatrick shook his head. “Dear, dear.”

“And she’s spunky.”

“Spunky?” Fitzpatrick grimaced. “Even worse. Juries don’t like spunky.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I can strap her down and dress her like a Sunday-school teacher, but it’s not gonna fool anyone.”

Fitzpatrick jerked his thumb at the newspaper. “Not with this kind of publicity. So how you gonna play it?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I see.”

Steve Winslow glanced around Fitzpatrick’s sumptuously furnished office. “So how’s things with the firm?”

“Could be worse, “ Fitzpatrick said. “Could be a lot worse. In point of fact, we’re actually doing very well.”

“I’m not surprised,” Steve said. “A firm like this, I would imagine things were pretty steady.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you have an established clientele. You don’t take on new clients all the time.”

Fitzpatrick nodded. “That’s largely true. A good percentage of our clients have been with the firm twenty, thirty years. That’s the way it is with firms of our type. Of course, we do pick up a new client now and then.”

“Did appearing in court with me hurt you any?”

Fitzpatrick shook his head. “Not at all. It might have if we’d lost, but we won. We actually picked up clients from it.”

“Oh?”

Fitzpatrick chuckled. “Yeah. I was a celebrity for a while. People would come up to me at cocktail parties, say, ‘You defended in the Harding case, didn’t you?’ People actually came over to our firm, which is strange when you think of it. Because our type of client isn’t looking for a criminal lawyer. Quite the contrary. I guess it was a status thing. Snob appeal. Like saying F. Lee Bailey’s my lawyer, you know?” Fitzpatrick shook his head. “No, that case didn’t hurt me at all.”

Fitzpatrick grinned. His eyes were shining. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just making conversation.”

Fitzpatrick nodded judiciously. “Right, right. You got a murder case you’re defending, so you just pop over here to make a little conversation.”

“Well, I was wondering about your courtroom experience.”

“What about it?”

“When the case was over, you expressed the opinion that you doubted if we’d be working together again soon.”

“As I recall, I did say something like that.”

“I was wondering if you were still of that opinion.”

Fitzpatrick pursed his lips. “Are you asking me to work on this case?”

“No.”

Fitzpatrick frowned. “No?”

“No,” Steve said. “It would be highly detrimental to my client to ask for help from such a prestigious firm and be turned down. And I do hate lying to the press.”

“That’s a failing in a lawyer,” Fitzpatrick deadpanned.

“Anyway, I prefer to talk hypothetically. I’m wondering if that were the case, what your reaction would be.”

Fitzpatrick leaned back in his chair, ran his hand through his curly white hair. “You know,” he said, “I have to admit, I liked it. The Harding case, I mean. Being in court. The whole thing. Not the sort of thing I want to do every day, but it sure was a kick.

“Oh course, that was a lot different. I was the original lawyer on the case, and then you came in. This case, it’s the other way around. Not that I mind playing second fiddle, but I’d still like to play something.”

“What do you mean?”

Fitzpatrick smiled. “I know why you’re here. I knew the minute you walked in the door. Hell, I knew before you came.” He shook his head. “Look, if you really needed help, it would be one thing. But I know you. I’ve seen you in court. You need my help like you need a hole in the head.

“Look, I’m not the greatest trial lawyer in the world. Hell, I’m not even a trial lawyer. In point of fact, I haven’t been back in court since our last case.

“And now you’re in here, asking me without actually asking me if I’d like to work with you again.

“If I could do something, yeah. But to be a prop. An ornament. That’s all I’d be, wouldn’t I? I mean, that’s the situation here. The girl’s got a credibility problem. You need some conservative old fart like me to sit next to her and lend an air of respectability.

“I mean, that’s all you really want me for, isn’t it?”

Steve grinned at Fitzpatrick. “Not at all.”