The Underground Man

10

It was all Steve Winslow, Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin could do to contain Jack Walsh during the taxi ride back to the office. It was no small feat getting him out of court, either. Fortunately, Judge Washburn had retired after announcing his decision and did not witness Jack Walsh’s post-trial performance, or he might have ordered him committed all over again. Jack Walsh had jumped in the air, cackled gleefully, run over to give Steve Winslow a hearty handshake, and then raced back to goad and torment his relatives. “Fools! Idiots! Bloodsuckers!” he trumpeted, dancing up and down in front of them. Mark Taylor and Steve Winslow literally had to drag him away.

He was still bouncing off the walls when he reached Steve Winslow’s office. Mark Taylor sat him firmly in the clients’ chair, rolled his eyes at Steve Winslow, and then went out, closing the door behind him.

Walsh bounced right up again. “We did it,” he cackled. “Did you see them? Did you see the look on their faces? No-account deadbeats. We nailed ‘em good.”

“Yes, we did,” Steve said. “Now, if you’d just sit down a minute-”

“Don’t want to sit down. Been sittin’ too much. Lyin’ down too. Don’t want to do what nobody tells me. Don’t have to, do I? That’s what bein’ free means. That’s what it’s all about.”

“Yes, Mr. Walsh, but-”

“Ah, the look on their faces. Jason and Fred. And that numbnuts, Carl. Sitting there in their suits and ties as if they amounted to anything. And me in my rags and dirty face. I put it to ‘em, didn’t I? I nailed ‘em good.”

“Yes, you did, Mr. Walsh. Now-”

“Not a penny. Not one penny, that’s what they’ll get. They’ll see. They’ll have to come to me now. I’m holdin’ the whip.”

“Yes, you are, Mr. Walsh. Now if you’ll just sit down-”

“Told you. Don’t wanna sit down. In fact, I don’t wanna be here at all. Got things to do.”

“I’m sure you do, Mr. Walsh. But first we have a few matters to settle.”

“Right, right. I owe you money. You did work and you gotta be paid. Hell of a good job, too. Let’s see. A day in court, plus the preparation, filin’ the papers. What’s that all worth? Five grand? No problem. I’ll send you a check.” His eyes gleamed. “Chase Manhattan Bank. Got a bankbook back at the Holiday Inn. Stupid bastards thought I’d carry cash, never thought to check the banks.” Shook his head. “Assholes.”

“It’s not just the money, Mr. Walsh.”

“Not the money? Of course it’s the money. You did the work and you gotta be paid.”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing. It was damn fine work. How’d you get on to me anyway?”

“What?”

“How’d you find me? How’d you know I was there?”

“Oh.”

“I was shocked as hell. The doctors wouldn’t let me talk to nobody, I figured nobody knew I was there.”

“The family knew.”

“Right, they put me there. But aside from them-” Walsh broke off. His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Are you sayin’ it was one of them?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, it sure wasn’t Jason, Fred or Carl. One of the women then. Don’t tell me. Aunt Claire?”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“All right. Who?”

“Jeremy.”

Walsh’s eyes widened and his face screwed up in disbelief. “Jeremy? The punk rocker?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re kidding. He told you? Jeremy? That dippy little kid with green hair?”

Steve nodded. “That’s right. He came in here and-”

“Son of a bitch!” Walsh cackled. “Son of a bitch! Would you believe that? I got a relative after all. Jeremy. Hot damn. How the hell’d he even know?”

“He’d overheard Carl saying you’d come here. Then when they locked you up he skipped school and came here to ask me to get you out.”

Walsh threw back his head and laughed. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Well, that changes things, don’t it? Thanks for tellin’ me. Jeremy. Son of a bitch.”

Walsh stopped laughing and held up his hand. “Well, thanks again. I really must be going.”

Steve moved fast to get himself between Walsh and the door. “Just one moment, Mr. Walsh.”

“One moment? I don’t have one moment. I been penned up for days and I want out of here. I told you I’ll pay you, now let me go.”

“There are other matters, Mr. Walsh.”

“Other matters? What other matters?”

“You consulted me about a will.”

“Yeah, I asked some questions. So what?”

“But you didn’t tell me why you wanted to know. When I answered those questions, I had no idea what you were getting at.”

“Of course you didn’t. No reason why you should.”

“Well there’s reason now, Mr. Walsh. If I’m acting as your attorney, I have to act in your best interests.”

“And that you did, my boy, and a fine job too.”

Steve Winslow took a breath. “Mr. Walsh. When I answered your questions about a will, I was discussing abstract law. But apparently you weren’t. There are several million dollars involved.”

“That’s right,” Walsh said. “And it’s all mine.”

“Yes, it is, Mr. Walsh, and you may dispose of it any way you like. The point is-”

“The point is, the point is,” Walsh mimicked. “The point is, who cares? You already made the point. I can dispose of it any way I like. It’s my money and I can do what I like. That’s the point. The rest of the points don’t matter.”

“Mr. Walsh-”

“Oh boy, that feels good.” Walsh stretched his arms. “Listen, I gotta get out of here.”

“One moment, Mr. Walsh. We have a problem here.”

“Problem? What problem? Everything’s fine.”

“Mr. Walsh, the questions you asked me about a will lead me to believe you may be contemplating something that is dangerous on the one hand, and illegal on the other.”

“Oh yeah? Well, don’t concern yourself.”

“I have to, Mr. Walsh.”

“No, you don’t. So I asked some questions. So I was just jokin’ around. It don’t mean nothin’.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Walsh shrugged. “You can believe what you like. You ask me, you worry too much. Anyway, I gotta get out of here. So tell me, is five thousand all right for a fee?”

“It’s fine, but-”

“Good. You’ll get it. If you don’t, you can sue me. A good lawyer like you, you ought to win.”

“Mr. Walsh-”

“Hey, I’d love to stay and talk, but right now I got problems. I had to tell ‘em about the Holiday Inn. Which means Jason and Fred will be there waiting for me. Which means I gotta get out, get away from ‘em, move all my stuff, find another place to live. One they don’t know about. Big pain in the ass.”

“Mr. Walsh-”

“Hey, you gonna let me leave or not? I gotta get a what? — a writ of habeas corpus to get out of here? I’m telling you. Don’t worry. You did a hell of a job. I’ll recommend you to all my friends. Now I gotta get out of here before those bastards get on my trail.”

Jack Walsh grinned at Steve Winslow, then at Tracy Garvin. Then he jerked the door open and was gone.

Steve Winslow dived for the phone, punched in a number. “Give me Taylor.”

Seconds later, Mark Taylor’s voice came on the line. “Taylor here.”

“Mark, Steve. He just left.”

“No sweat. My men picked him up.”

“Don’t lose him.”

“Is it that important?”

“It sure is.”

“Why the hell you wanna follow your own client?”

“Frankly, I’m afraid of what he might do.”

“That’s not your problem, is it?”

“Maybe not, but I feel responsible. I got him released. Also, check out the Holiday Inn. I wanna confirm his story.”

“The judge already checked it.”

“Yeah, but you check it too. It’s not enough to know he’s got a room there. I wanna know what he uses it for.”

“Gotcha.”

“O.K. Dig out the dirt.”

Steve hung up to find Tracy Garvin looking at him. “Mark Taylor asked you why you’re doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s my question too.”

Steve sighed. “Like I said. I feel responsible.”

“You can handle someone’s legal problems. You can’t run their life.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“Like I said, I made an error in judgment. I gave him legal advice I shouldn’t have. Now I feel I gotta make up for it.”

“I know that, but-”

“Plus I got him out of Bellevue. Now I know I had a legal right to do that, but still. I mean, what if that asshole doctor’s right? What if he is crazy?”

“What if he is?”

“And what if he is dangerous? What if he hurts someone? Or himself?” Steve shook his head. “It’s every attorney’s nightmare. You do a good job, you win a case, you put a murderer back on the street, and he kills again.”

“I see that, but-”

“O.K., so he’s not a murderer, but still. From everything I gather, the man intends to commit a crime. That crime being fraud. He all but told me so. And I gave him advice on how to do it. If that man mocks up a will, I’ll have put myself in the position of having defrauded someone out of several million dollars.”

“I understand all that. But what good is following him gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if he pulls something, I can stop him. Maybe not.” Steve shrugged. “At any rate, it’s something to do. I feel I have to do something.”

“All right. So what do we do now?”

“Nothing we can do. Just wait and see what Mark finds out.”

Taylor called back two hours later. “You’re not gonna like this, Steve.”

“No surprise there. So far, there’s nothing about this case I like. What gives?”

“My man just called in. One of the guys tailing Walsh.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he?”

“Down in the subway station.”

“What!?”

“I told you you weren’t going to like this.”

“What’s he doing down there?”

“Celebrating, it looks like.”

“What?”

“Yeah. My man says Walsh left your office, walked out to Broadway and started panhandling.”

“What!?”

“That’s right. He started begging quarters. When he got up enough money, he bought a bottle of cheap wine, walked up to Columbus Circle, and now he’s down in the subway drinking with the bums down there.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, and that ain’t all.”

“Oh yeah? What else?”

“We checked with the Holiday Inn. Apparently all Judge Washburn asked ‘em was whether Jack Walsh had a room there. Which he does. Rented for the whole year, just like he said. Only thing is, he doesn’t use it.”

“What?”

“That’s right. His stuff’s up there, and his key’s at the desk, just like he said. But from what we get from the desk clerks, the guy shows up once or twice a month just to get something out of his room, but that’s about it. He doesn’t sleep there.”

“No shit.”

“None. Far as we know, he actually does live on the subway.

“Steve exhaled into the phone. “Oh shit.”

“You said it.”

“So he really is nuts.”

“Nutty as a fruitcake,” Taylor said.