The Wrong Gun

44

The phone began ringing while Steve Winslow was still unlocking his apartment door. He cursed his deadbolt, a necessity in a New York City apartment, even in that relatively respectable section of Greenwich Village. Steve threw open the door, fumbled for the light switch on the wall, missed it, spotted the phone across the room in the faint street light coming through the window, and, spurred on by another insistent ring, decided to go for it. Predictably, he barked his shin on the coffee table, cursed loudly, lunged across the room, grabbed the phone and picked it up.

“Finally,” Taylor said. “I’ve been callin’ you for hours.”

“I took Tracy out to dinner. What’s up?”

“We blew it.”

“What?”

“The whole assignment. We fucked it up somehow.”

“How is that possible? Carrie Timberlaine set it up.”

“Yeah, that part was fine. I took Veronica out there, Carrie let us in. She didn’t have the keys to the gun cases, but that guy Martin did, and he let us in and Veronica did her stuff.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Someone tipped the cops. Lieutenant Sanders showed up, mad as hell, wanting to know what the hell was going on.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Am I stupid? Carrie Timberlaine stepped in, told him she was having her father’s gun collection appraised, and what the hell business was it of his?”

“That go over big?”

“What do you think? At that time of night? The long and the short of it is he kept us tied up there until Vaulding could rush over a subpoena.”

“He subpoenaed you?”

“No, her. Veronica, I mean. She’s to appear in court tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t sound happy, Mark.”

“Happy, hell. The one person in the world I didn’t want involved in this case. The one person in the world I didn’t want the cops to find. And what’s the upshot? Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock she’s witness for the prosecution.”

“There’s a saving grace.”

“What’s that?”

“Vaulding won’t know what to ask her.”

“He’ll ask her everything. Jesus Christ, Steve. You think he’s not going to ask her about guns?”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll ask her about your gun.”

“I was there. He may ask her why.”

“You’re getting worked up over nothing, Mark.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been going slightly nuts. I’ve been trying to reach you for the last two hours.”

“I told you. I took Tracy out to dinner. I just dropped her off.”

“Good for you. I haven’t had dinner yet, and I don’t think I could eat a thing.”

“Where are you?”

“Back in the office. When I couldn’t reach you, I told the switchboard to keep trying and drove back to town. Good thing I did.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause there’s a lot coming in. As you might expect, considering the bombshell Vaulding dropped today. That was just this morning. Now that he’s grabbed your expert off, you wouldn’t believe what they’re saying.”

“Who?”

“The cops. The press. There’s a lot of speculation going on, but the bottom line is plea-bargain.”

“Is that on the level?”

“Absolutely. Wanna hear how they figure?”

“Not really, but I guess I better.”

“O.K. Here’s the latest line. After Manning’s bombshell today you got an adjournment to see if you wanna cross-examine. Tomorrow morning he’s first up on the stand. The best the cops and the press can figure, the bit with Veronica was a last-ditch effort to come up with something you can use to cross-examine-your expert against theirs, see? That’s why you sent her out there to look at the guns.”

“So, the way everyone sees it, Manning’s the barometer. You either take him on or else.”

“Or else what?”

“If you can’t shake Manning’s testimony, particularly if you decline to cross-examine, it’s all over. It means the case is hopeless and the next order of business is, you ask for a recess to confer with Vaulding over a possible plea-bargain.”

“Sounds like they’ve written the whole scenario.”

“They sure have. The next thing that happens is, Vaulding turns you down flat because he’s holding every ace in the deck. He’s got your expert, he’s got your client and he’s got you. Vaulding laughs in your face, goes back into court and puts Veronica Dreisson on the stand. At which point I’m diving for the nearest hurricane cellar.”

Steve Winslow took a breath, then exhaled noisily. “Well,” he said, “thanks for calling.”