The Naked Typist

3

The man who opened the door was plump, bald, wore horn-rimmed glasses and a three-piece suit. “Yes?” he said.

“Phil Danby?” Steve asked.

“Yes. And who are you?”

Steve gave him a look. “I spoke to you on the phone. The doorman downstairs just called you to ask if he could send me up. Who the hell do you think I am?”

“You’re Steve Winslow?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like a lawyer.”

“You don’t look like a rapist, either.”

Danby frowned. “If that’s the tack you’re going to take-”

“No, it isn’t,” Steve said. “I don’t feel like sparring in the hallway. Where’s your boss?”

“Mr. Castleton is in his office.”

“Let’s see him.”

Phil Danby stood glaring at Steve for a moment. His problem was clear. Since Castleton had agreed to see Winslow, it was his job to bring Steve in. But with Steve ordering him to do so, he didn’t want to do it.

Danby took a breath. He stepped aside, let Steve in and closed the door. Without a word, he turned and walked down the hallway. Steve followed.

Danby stopped before a closed doorway, knocked twice, pushed it open. Steve followed him in.

It was a large office. At first glance it appeared to be a stage set, a period piece set somewhere in the thirties or forties. It was wood-paneled, with Persian rugs on the floor. There was a large marble fireplace. Solid oak furniture. It occurred to Steve that Bogart could have walked into such an office and found a body lying on the floor.

Or gotten sapped. In spite of himself, Steve glanced over his shoulder. But there were no unseen henchmen behind the door. Danby was it. Steve turned back to the room.

Dominating the office was a massive oak desk. Seated behind it in a high-backed desk chair was a frail wisp of a man. He was completely bald. His face was incredibly thin. His cheeks and eyes were sunken. His skin was stretched tight and was almost translucent, giving him the appearance of a skeleton.

That was Steve Winslow’s first thought. That the man was dead. That Milton Castleton had been dead for years, that his body had been propped up at this desk here and that Phil Danby, the loyal and trusted associate, was nothing more than a fat Tony Perkins, psychotically maintaining the fiction that his boss was still alive.

Then the eyes in the skeleton moved. The lips moved, and a reedy voice said, “Come in.”

Steve walked up to the desk.

The lips moved again. “Sit down.”

Steve sat. As he did, he noticed Phil Danby had moved in and was standing to the left of the desk.

Castleton’s eyes flicked to Danby, then back to Steve. “Talk.”

“I’m Steve Winslow. I’m representing Kelly Blaine.”

Castleton looked Steve up and down. “Are you with Legal Aid?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have a private practice.”

Castleton frowned. “That’s bad.”

“Why?”

“If you have a private practice, you must be good. You look like a jerk. If you can dress like that and still get clients, you must be pretty sharp. Which means you’re going to give me a hard time.” Castleton smiled. “I don’t like sharp lawyers who give me a hard time.”

“My client’s the one who had the hard time.”

“So you say.” Castleton sighed. “All right. Let’s have it.”

“Miss Blaine worked for you.”

There was a pause. Castleton said nothing.

“Do you concede Kelly Blaine worked for you?”

Milton Castleton smiled. “Concede?” he said. He shook his head. “I was right. You lawyers. Always want to sound like you’re winning. Concede. I don’t concede anything. Kelly Blaine worked for me. If that’s a concession, I’ll eat it.”

“Miss Blaine left your employment today.”

“So I understand.”

“You weren’t here?”

“No, I was not.”

“The circumstances of her leaving were unfortunate.”

“They always are.”

“Some more than others. In this case, Miss Blaine was frightened into leaving. So much so that she left some of her possessions behind.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Milton Castleton nodded. “I will have to look into the matter. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Steve Winslow stared at Castleton a moment. The emaciated face was bland, composed. There was an innocent serenity about him, like some elderly relative who had been propped up in the drawing room to have tea with the family but who had no idea what was really going on.

Which was disconcerting. Steve Winslow had come prepared to fight. But Milton Castleton’s indifference left him with nothing to push against. Steve knew it was a charade, an act, a business tactic on Castleton’s part. Still, it was hard to deal with.

Steve pulled himself together. Never mind the guy looks half-dead. This is not a kindly old relative. This is a dirty old man.

Steve glanced around. On one side wall there was a huge computer system that seemed anachronistic in that office. On the other side wall there was a rectangular curtain. It was shut. Steve got up, walked over to it, yanked it open.

Behind it was a picture window overlooking the adjoining office. The room was dark, but still Steve could make out the desk and chair lined up directly in front of the curtained window.

Steve was surprised. He realized that in hearing Kelly Blaine’s story he had envisioned a desk with a typewriter. Instead, a CRT screen with a keyboard sat on the desk. Kelly Blaine naturally had worked on a word processor.

Steve Winslow turned back to Castleton. “Let’s cut the charade.” He jerked his thumb at the window. “Kelly Blaine told me the details of her employment. And the details of her leaving it. They are not pleasant. You have her clothes and you have her purse. I want those and I want compensation.”

“Oh?” Castleton said. “Compensation for what? She wasn’t fired, she quit.”

“I’m not talking about severance pay.”

“Oh? Then what are you talking about?”

Steve took a breath. “Let’s cut the shit, Mr. Castleton. Let’s talk about the window in the wall and the fact the woman was working nude.”

Castleton’s eyebrows raised. “Is that your angle? Is that your idea-blackmail? Mr. Winslow, there’s nothing you can say about me that’s not already been said. You wanna make a stink about the manner in which my secretary dressed, you’ll only hurt her, not me. Frankly, I don’t give a damn.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve said. He jerked his thumb at Phil Danby. “What about him?”

“What about him?”

“He’s your employee?”

“I’m sure he prefers the term business associate, but yes, if you want to call him that.”

“As his employer, you’re responsible for his actions.”

“So?”

“In this instance we have a case of sexual harassment, sexual assault, attempted rape. My client was subjected to violence and the threat of bodily harm. She was humiliated and ejected from your premises with no wherewithal whatsoever-in fact, stark naked. Her cause of action against you for emotional and mental stress alone could run in the millions of dollars.”

Castleton frowned. “Phil, what is this man talking about?”

Danby shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Oh really?” Steve said. “Are you denying you threw my client out of this apartment earlier today?”

Castleton held up his hand. “Now, Phil, you don’t have to answer his questions. You are responsible only to me. So for my benefit, rather than his, would you please tell me what happened this afternoon.”

“It’s just as I told you before.”

“Tell me again.”

“Very well. I was in your office going over some documents when the buzzer rang.”

“Buzzer?” Steve said.

“Yes,” Danby said. He shot a look at Castleton. “I suppose I should explain.” He turned to Steve. “There is no phone in the secretary’s office, no intercom, no means of communication. Which is fine, because there’s no need for any communication.

“Unless, of course, something goes wrong. A technical problem with the computer. Or the cassette recorder. Something like that. In that event, the typist needs to contact us. And she is under instructions not to leave the room and wander the apartment. So, in the event that she needs something, she can buzz us to open the door.”

Danby shrugged. “And that’s what happened. The buzzer went off. I figured it was a computer glitch, or something, I needed to fix. There’s no connecting door. Only one door to the secretary’s office. So I went out in the hallway, took my key and unlocked the door.”

“And what happened then?” Castleton asked.

“I opened the door and Miss Blaine was standing there naked. Well, that was a shock. The typists have strict instructions. In the event something was wrong and they needed help they were to be fully dressed before they buzzed. Kelly Blaine had not done that. I was, of course, shocked and embarrassed, and I didn’t know what she was doing.

“But I found out. She came on to me. I’d told her Mr. Castleton was going to be away for the day. And she said since he wasn’t here there was no reason we shouldn’t take a break together.”

“Bullshit,” Steve said.

Castleton held up his hand. “Let’s hear the rest.”

“Well,” Danby said. “That was it. Mr. Castleton has strict rules. And that was one of them. A man in his position, it’s only natural people would try to take advantage of him. Put him in a compromising situation.

“She’d been told this. She knew at the slightest bit of an indiscretion she’d be out. I guess she figured I wouldn’t tell.

“She figured wrong. I told her so. Mr. Castleton would know of this and she was through.

“And she went crazy. Screaming, kicking, crying, hysterical. I tried to calm her down, but there was nothing I could do. The woman had lost it. She pushed by me, actually knocked me down, and ran out of the office. I got up and ran out in the hall just in time to see the front door close. By the time I got to the door, she was gone.

“And that’s it,” he said. “I suppose you being a lawyer, in some way you figure all that’s Mr. Castleton’s fault.”

Steve paid no attention. He stared straight at Castleton. “Is he finished?”

“Are you finished?” Castleton asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“He’s finished.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “Are you going to let me cross-examine?”

“Certainly not.”

“My client’s story is that she never sounded the bell for assistance. Suddenly the door opened, this man appeared in the room, made sexual advances at her, abused her physically and forced her to flee the apartment.”

Castleton nodded. “Naturally she would say something like that.”

“Since you won’t let me cross-examine Mr. Danby, my only alternative is to file suit and get you into court so I can cross-examine Mr. Danby.”

Steve Winslow got up and started for the door.

“Stop.” The word was like a whiplash, even from that reedy voice.

Steve Winslow stopped, turned around, “Yes?”

“Come back.”

Steve walked back to the desk.

Castleton looked up at him. “Your suit has no merit. However, I’m an old man and I have no wish to be dragged into court. I also feel sorry for the girl, misguided though she may be. What will it take to make this thing go away?”

“Immediate possession of her clothes and purse, plus a sizable cash settlement.”

“I’m willing to be reasonable if you are,” Castleton said. “The woman walked off her job and is entitled to nothing. However, I’m willing to consider she was terminated and give her two weeks severance pay. At a hundred bucks an hour, that comes to eight thousand dollars.”

Steve Winslow shook his head. “You’re not even in the ballpark. We’re talking about a million-dollar suit here.”

“A million dollars?” Castleton said. “No, no. I’m not talking about what you’d file for. I’m talking about what you’d settle for.”

“You mean right now? Cash in hand?”

“That’s right.”

“A hundred thousand dollars.”

“Dream on. My offer is eight thousand dollars. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. I’ll leave it.”

Steve turned to go.

“Without consulting your client?”

Steve stopped. “My client won’t take eight thousand dollars.”

“So you say. Why not let her make that decision?”

Steve frowned. He didn’t want to make any concessions to Castleton, but if he walked out now it would be without her clothes and purse. “May I use your phone?”

“Certainly.”

Steve walked to the desk, picked up the phone, punched in the number.

Tracy answered.

“It’s me,” Steve said. “Put Kelly on.” There was a moment, then her voice came on the line. “This is Steve Winslow,” he said. “I’m in Castleton’s office. He’s offered us a settlement. Two weeks salary-eight thousand dollars.”

“And my clothes and purse?”

“Yes.”

“Take it.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Steve said. He hung up the phone and turned to Castleton. “Your offer is rejected. See you in court.”

Steve turned and headed for the door.

“Hold on, hold on,” Castleton said impatiently.

Steve stopped. Turned back.

Castleton glared at him. “Can’t we negotiate without these theatrics?”

“I wasn’t aware we were negotiating,” Steve said.

“Of course we are,” Castleton said. “I have no desire to go to court, and neither have you. Let’s settle the damn thing.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “Write me a check for a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Don’t be silly,” Castleton said, irritably. “I’m willing to pay for the nuisance value, but within reason. Twenty-five thousand for a full release.”

“You’re talking about the civil suit,” Steve said. “There are criminal charges here as well.”

“You can’t negotiate criminal charges. That would be unethical.”

“Not to mention illegal,” Steve said. “I’m not negotiating them. I’m just mentioning them to show you that the situation is somewhat complicated.”

“Not for me,” Castleton said. “If your client has some problem with Phil Danby, that’s between him and her.”

“Yes and no,” Steve said. “Considering the requirements of the employment, requirements initiated by you, I think you might find yourself at the very least an accessory to such charges as rape, assault, what have you.”

“Nonsense,” Castleton said.

Steve shrugged. “Probably. But, as you say, that’s neither here nor there. We’re discussing the civil suit here, not the criminal charge. We’re certainly not negotiating that. That would be compounding a felony and conspiring to conceal a crime. Something you and I would never dream of doing.

“Of course, that’s assuming criminal charges are brought at all. And from a legal standpoint, having reached a settlement with you in the civil suit and having given you a full release from any or all damages arising from the employment, Kelly Blaine would be hard-pressed to come up with any grounds for pressing criminal charges in this matter.”

Steve waved his hands. “But that’s not what we’re discussing. By all means, let’s talk settlement.”

“You have my offer. Twenty-five thousand.”

“And you have mine.”

“Yes. A hundred thousand. If you’re not going to budge from it, there’s nothing to talk about and we’ll see you in court.”

Steve smiled. “Did I say that, Mr. Castleton? We’re all businessmen here. You’ve come up. I’ll come down. Seventy-five thousand and call it a day.”

Castleton shook his head. “Out of the question.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “I think the situation’s clear. We have figures on the table neither one of us can live with. We need to come up with a compromise figure, or go to court.”

“Such as?”

Steve shook his head. “Your move. I just came down to seventy-five, remember?”

“That’s not even close.”

Steve sighed. “We have a problem here. The way I see it, the only issue here is how many more bids it’s gonna take us to get to fifty grand. You don’t wanna say fifty because you’re afraid if you do I’ll say seventy and then we’ll be arguing between those two figures trying to split at sixty. And I don’t want to say fifty because then you’ll say thirty and we’ll be arguing between those two figures trying to split at forty.” Steve threw up his hands. “It’s a no-win situation. The way I see it, we could be here all day. So I’m not naming a figure. I’m suggesting if you named the figure fifty thousand, it might end negotiations.”

“Are you stating such is the case?”

“Not at all. I’m talking tentatively and hypothetically.”

“All right. Talking tentatively and hypothetically then, if I named the figure fifty thousand, would you accept it?”

“If you named it, yes.”

“All right. Fifty thousand dollars, take it or leave it. Do we have a deal?”

“In principle.”

Castleton frowned. “What do you mean, in principle?”

“The cash compromise is satisfactory. But the deal is predicated on my receiving Kelly Blaine’s clothes and purse.”

“And upon you furnishing me with a blanket release.”

“Certainly,” Steve said. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the papers, handed them over.

Castleton glanced at the papers just long enough to verify what they were, then nodded to Danby. “Get it.”

Danby turned and walked out the door with the air of a trained dog doing a trick. Castleton buried his head in the papers. He was still reading when Danby came back, carrying a purse and a shopping bag. He started to give them to Steve Winslow, but Castleton held up his hand. “One moment. I’m not done.”

Castleton finished the last page, set the papers down. “All right, give him the stuff.”

Steve took the shopping bag and the purse, walked over to a small table and set them down to examine them. In the shopping bag he found a skirt, sweater, bra, panties, stockings and shoes. The purse was of fabric rather than leather, a soft, flexible bag pulled closed with a drawstring that doubled as a shoulder strap. Steve spread the top open, reached in and examined the contents. He found the usual junk-tissues, lipstick, pens, paper, what have you. He also found a set of keys, a change purse with thirty-eight dollars and change in it, and a white envelope with Kelly Blaine’s name on it and eight one-hundred-dollar bills inside.

Steve looked up from the purse. “Where’s the wallet?”

“What?” Castleton said.

“There’s no wallet. There’s a change purse with money, but no wallet.”

Castleton looked at Danby. “Phil?”

Danby shrugged. “Then she didn’t have one. I assure you, her purse has not been touched.”

“There’s your answer,” Castleton said.

“I have to check with my client,” Steve said.

He walked over to the desk, picked up the phone, called the office and had Tracy put Kelly Blaine on the wire.

“Did you get it?” she asked breathlessly.

“Mr. Castleton and I have reached an agreement. I have your clothes and purse.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“There’s one problem. I checked the purse. Your keys are in it, and your change purse and your day’s pay. But your wallet isn’t.”

“That’s all right, I left it at home.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “See you soon.”

Steve hung up before she could ask any questions. He turned back to Milton Castleton. “All right, Mr. Castleton. We have a deal.”