“I know. It’s just the whole letter business. I don’t want to be interrogated again.”
“You and me both,” Steve said.
Steve walked back to his office. Tracy Garvin was at the desk. She looked at him when he came in the door. He couldn’t make out her mood behind those large-rimmed glasses. The girl, Steve realized, was something of an enigma. How could one girl be so old in so many ways, and so immature in others, so smart in so many ways, and so slow in others. Just what was her story anyway?
For the moment, Steve realized, he didn’t care. He had too much on his mind to deal with her. He gave her a noncommittal nod and plodded into his inner office.
He sat at his desk to think things over. Though, he realized, there was nothing much to think about. Just let Mark come up with something. Anything. Something that got him off the hook. A lead. A human being he could go to and say, “Damn it, you’re my client, now what the hell is going on?”
And even if they wouldn’t tell him, it wouldn’t matter. Because just knowing who the client was would be enough. Because, Steve realized, it didn’t really matter who the client was. All that mattered was that it wasn’t Marilyn Harding.
It was three hours later when the phone rang.
“Got it, Steve.”
“Yeah, Mark.”
“It wasn’t hard, really, once you told me what you were looking for. I got men out digging around and-”
“Mark. Please. I don’t need a rundown. Who’s the client?”
“Whoa. I’m not making any deductions. That’s your department. All you said was find someone with a connection with Sheila Benton. So that’s what I did.”
“Yes? And?”
“And it’s a definite. Hell, they went to school together, for Christ’s sake.”
“Yes, damn it. But who?”
“Oh. Sorry,” Mark said. “I thought you knew. It’s Marilyn Harding, of course.”
23
Judy Meyers watched the waiter depart with their orders, grimaced, and said, “I’m going to have to diet for two weeks to make up for this.”
“Then why did you order so much?” Steve said.
Judy smiled. “Are you kidding? Because you’re paying for it. I don’t get breaks like this that often.”
“You gettin’ any work?”
Judy shrugged. “A few auditions. I’m making the rounds.”
“Any callbacks?”
“Nothing to speak of. Things are slow. Look. Enough chitchat. This is a payback dinner, and, for your information, the payback’s gonna take more than food.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“You have a dirty mind,” Judy told him. “I mean the piece of paper. I’ve never been mixed up in a mystery before. So let’s have it.”
“Oh,” Steve said.
Judy stared at him. “You are going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Look,” Steve said. “I told you. I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I could be charged with something. If I am, anything I tell you could be construed as an admission of guilt. You could be forced to testify. I could-”
“Oh, bullshit,” Judy said. “I got that paper for you. If there’s anything illegal about it that makes me an accessory. If you think you can make me an accessory to a crime without letting me know what’s going on, that makes you a candidate for the Asshole of the Month award.”
“You got the paper without knowing what it’s all about. At worst, you’re an unwitting accomplice. The more you know, the more trouble you’re in.”
“Spoken like a lawyer. Hey, Steve, look, it’s me. It’s Judy sitting here. If you want to get all cutesy-poo legal on me, well, fine, tell me a hypothetical story of what might have happened. Then we’ll all be protected because we were just saying ‘what if.’ But let me tell you, if you don’t start talking, you are going to wind up with your salad in your lap.”
He told her the whole thing. More than he’d told Mark Taylor or Tracy Garvin. He told it from the beginning, from getting the letters, to finding Bradshaw’s body and tossing the note out the window, to everything that had happened since.
“So,” Judy said. “How true to form. The white knight on the charger. You raced down to the police station and rescued your secretary from the clutches of the law. No wonder the poor girl’s so starry eyed.”
“Come on,” Steve said irritably.
“Well, what girl could resist such a courtship?”
“She happens to have given two weeks’ notice.”
“Oh? Was that before or after the daring rescue?”
The food had long since arrived and was sitting untouched in front of them. Steve picked up a knife and fork and cut into his steak. After a moment or two, Judy followed suit.
They ate in silence.
“So,” Judy said. “What do you do now?”
Steve shook his head. “That’s the problem. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not her lawyer. Fitzpatrick is. The grand jury’s indicted her for murder. He’s got her out on bail. Dirkson’s pushing for a speedy court date, and Fitzpatrick is stalling like crazy. It’s the same old shit. Business as usual. But it’s not my business.”
“If she’s out on bail, why can’t you talk to her?”
“You don’t understand. I’m not her lawyer. But everyone from Dirkson to Fitzpatrick thinks I am, or at least used to be. And if Dirkson can prove it, he’s going to have me disbarred. The minute I go sniffing around her Dirkson’s gonna go bananas.”
“Fuck him.”
Steve stared at her. “What?”
“Fuck him. Let him go bananas.”
Steve sighed. “Judy, I’m afraid your usual incisive wit is somewhat lost on me. What the hell are you saying?”
Judy took a sip of her drink. “This thing has really got you tied up in knots, hasn’t it?”
Steve shook his head. “Yeah.”
“Talk to me.”
“What?”
“Tell me about it.”
“I told you about it.”
“No, not the damn case. I know all about the damn case. Tell me about you. Your first trial was over. Sheila Benton got acquitted.”
“The charges were dismissed.”
“Whatever.”
Steve shook his head. “No. Big difference. If she’d been acquitted in court, I’d have got credit for it. I’d have had a law practice.”
“Exactly. But she didn’t, and the cops grabbed all the credit, and then what?”
“And then nothing. I didn’t have a law practice. But I still had Sheila Benton for a client. And she came into a lot of money. Not just her own trust fund, she inherited from her uncle too. And that was a straight inheritance, not bound up in trust. She’s worth millions.”
Steve shrugged. “And she put me in charge of it. Complete power of attorney. At a substantial annual retainer. I rented an office, set up a practice, began to handle her affairs. Not very taxing work. But after years of driving a cab, not bad.
“But it got boring. Sheila went off to Europe. What little work there was dried up. The job trickled down to about one letter or phone call per day. I hired a secretary to handle that. I stopped coming by the office. I figured I deserved the leisure time. Maybe I’d learn to play golf.”
Steve rubbed his head. “What I really wanted, of course, was another case. Something I could sink my teeth into. Hell, just something to do. But I wasn’t going to get it because nobody knew about me, and those that did, from my first case, had to figure I was some sort of incredible asshole.
“And then, out of the blue, I get it. But it’s not a case. It’s some outrageous, improbable, storybook fantasy that makes no sense whatsoever. I have no idea what’s going on, and my only immediate prospect is being disbarred.”
“Which is great,” Judy said.
Steve stared at her. “Huh?”
“Hey, it’s just what the doctor ordered. Here you are, the embattled hero, fighting insurmountable odds. It’s a thoroughly glamorous position to be in.”
“Judy, this is not a play.”
“No, but it’s theatrical, and that’s where you shine. So stop crabbing, fuck Dirkson, and start fighting.”