Dirkson frowned. He picked up a paper on his desk. “Would that be Mr. Oliver Branstein, the proprietor of the music store at that address?”
“Oh, then he did contact you,” Tracy said. “He said he was going to, but you can never tell with these witnesses. They start out with the best of intentions, and then they start thinking what a hassle it will be, dealing with the police.”
Stams narrowed his eyes, cocked his head. “Wait a minute. You’re telling me you went to the crime scene at one in the morning to tell me about this guy, Branstein?”
Harry Dirkson put up his hand. “Ah, Sergeant. I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind. Miss Garvin, was that the only reason you were looking for Sergeant Stams?”
“Yes, it was.”
“That was the information you wished him to have?”
“Yes, it was.”
“That is why you went to the crime scene at one o’clock in the morning?”
“That’s right.”
“And when you were informed Sergeant Stams wasn’t there…?”
Tracy smiled. “I wanted to see for myself. So very often, they tell you the officer you want isn’t available just so they won’t be disturbed.”
Dirkson frowned.
“Will that be all?” Steve said. “It is a little late, and I for one would like to get some sleep.”
“That’s not quite all,” Dirkson said. “This witness Branstein-the one you were so eager to tell us about-just why did you call on him this evening?”
“Don’t be silly,” Tracy said. She jerked her thumb at Steve Winslow. “He’s Amy Dearborn’s attorney. As you well know. We are therefore investigating all aspects of the crime.”
“That’s not what I asked you,” Dirkson said. “What made this particular witness important. More to the point, what made you think this man might even be a witness.”
“Well,” Tracy said, “without betraying any professional confidences, I think I can assure you that since Amy Dearborn’s arrest we have been doing everything possible to investigate the crime. Since there was a music store on the ground floor of the building, one of the first things we looked into was whether the store was open earlier that evening, and if so, who was working there at the time. The answer was Mr. Branstein. We interviewed him, it turned out he had seen something, and I thought Sergeant Stams should know.”
“At one in the morning?” Stams said sarcastically.
“Hey, cut us a break,” Steve said. “If she’d gone home and gone to sleep, you’d be griping at us for withholding evidence.”
“Let’s not go off on a tangent,” Dirkson said. “Right now, I’m concerned with the witness, Branstein. As I understand, Miss Garvin, while the two of you interviewed him, you actually called on him first.”
“Right,” Tracy said. “Mr. Winslow was conferring with his client, it was late, and I didn’t know when he’d be back. I didn’t want to let the witness get away.”
“How did you know he was a witness before you talked to him?”
“Do you prefer the words potential witness? No one’s taking this down, are they? Do I have say alleged before every statement for fear of being misquoted?”
“There’s no reason to take that tone,” Dirkson said.
“Oh, come on, Dirkson,” Steve said. “Have you ever been arrested?”
“No, I have not,” Dirkson said. “Nor do I intend to be. I’m a law abiding citizen.”
“May I quote you on that come next election?” Steve said. He held up his hand, pretended to read newspaper headline. “D.A. scoffs at doctrine of innocent until proven guilty-statements imply stigma of guilt attaches from moment of arrest.”
Dirkson exhaled. “As you said, it’s late and we’d all like to get home. The witness Branstein-when you interviewed him, I understand he described two people. Is that right?”
“Yes, it is,” Tracy said. “That’s the information I thought Sergeant Stams should have.”
“Uh huh,” Dirkson said. “Tell me, did you recognize either of those two people?”
“It’s so hard to recognize someone from a description.”
“I’m sure it is. He described a woman and a man, did he not?”
“That’s right.”
“The woman came first?”
“Yes, she did.”
“And then the man?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you recall the description of the man?”
Tracy frowned. “It was more of an impression than a description. I think he said he looked like a hippie and his first thought was he was a customer for the shop. I’m afraid he didn’t see him that well.”
“Uh huh,” Dirkson said. He picked up the phone from his desk, said, “Is he here yet?” He listened a moment and said, “Bring him in.”
Minutes later the door opened and a cop ushered in Oliver Branstein.
“Are these the two you told me about?” Dirkson said.
Branstein looked back and forth from Tracy Garvin to Steve Winslow. “Yeah, that’s them.”
“They’re the ones who came and interviewed you tonight?”
“That’s right.”
“Asked you if you’d seen anyone going into the jewelers upstairs while you were working in your music store?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’s no doubt in your mind that these are the ones?”
“None at all. That’s her, all right. In fact, she looks exactly the same. He’s dressed differently, but I still recognize him.”
“Dressed differently how?”
“Well, he’s sloppy and his hair’s uncombed. He looks like he just got out of bed. I suppose I look that way myself, because I just got out of bed. I don’t see what was so important you had to drag me down here this time of the morning. I mean, I already told you everything I know.”
“I’m very sorry about that,” Dirkson said. “But if you’d just bear with me a few minutes longer. You say Mr. Winslow was dressed differently when he called on you-could you tell me exactly how?”
“Well, he was wearing a jacket and tie and his hair was combed.” Branstein shrugged. “In fact, I had no idea his hair was long. He does look different now, but it was definitely him.” Branstein cocked his head and looked at Steve Winslow accusingly. “You didn’t tell me there’d been a murder.”
Dirkson held up his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Branstein, I think that will be all for the time being. Officer, if you’d take Mr. Branstein out. I’m sorry, Mr. Branstein, but you’re just going to have to hang in here a little longer.”
The cop led Branstein out. When the door closed behind them, Dirkson said, “Well, well, what an interesting situation.”
“It may be interesting to you,” Steve said, “but frankly I’ve heard it all before.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve bored you,” Dirkson said. “Perhaps we can liven things up later on. For the time being, do you have any comment on Branstein’s statement?”
“I think you might thank us for bringing it to your attention.”
“I was referring to the content of his statement.”
“I’m afraid the man’s not that observant. Too bad. Might have been helpful.”
“I don’t know. It still might,” Dirkson said. He yawned, stretched. “Well, I see no reason to hold Miss Garvin at the present time. That’s not to say I wouldn’t charge her later if it turns out she’s broken some law. But as you say, it’s late, we’re all tired, and I for one have work to do. So why don’t the two of you just run along.”
“You mean you’re letting them go?” Stams said.
“Oh, yes,” Dirkson said. “They’re free to go.”
But his smile was still smug.
24
“Still mad at me?” Tracy said, as they came out the front door.
Steve Winslow glanced over his shoulder, spotted cops hanging out by the entrance. “Let’s get away from here before we talk.”
They found an all night diner on Chambers Street, ordered coffee and took a booth in the back.
“So,” Steve said, “you went back there to leave your fingerprints?”
“Why not?” Tracy said. “You sent Amy back. I figured if it could work for her, it could work for me.”