“It may not work for her,” Steve said. “Dirkson’s already sold on the idea that was her second visit.”
“How come?”
“A small petty cash drawer problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was shut.”
“What?”
“Amy goes up there, calls the cops. They come, she tells Stams she went up there and found the office robbed and Fletcher dead. One small problem-she never looks at the desk, and somewhere between the time we were there and she came back, someone got into the office and shut the fucking drawer.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. Which brands her whole story false. In the worst possible way. There’s no chance that she is mistaken. She’s lying. Plain and simple.
“And it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. The only reason she would tell such a stupid, obvious lie is because she thinks it’s the truth. Which means when she saw the drawer it was open. Which means she was there at another time.”
“Good lord,” Tracy said. “When did you find this out?”
“When I talked to her in jail.”
“How come you didn’t tell me?”
“I was pissed at you. About Branstein.”
“Even so.”
“It never entered my mind,” Steve said. “When it occurred to me just now, I was surprised to realize you didn’t know.”
“Uh huh,” Tracy said. “So what’s the verdict? Did I make up some for the Branstein mess?”
Steve exhaled. “Look. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hard on you. Yeah, this was a good move. Under the circumstances, probably the best you could do. The Branstein mess is a mess, and don’t think it’s over. It’s just beginning. Why do you think Dirkson wanted us out of there? So he could go to work on Branstein. The guy may not be much of a witness now, but what do you want to bet by the time he gets on the stand it turns out he can positively identify Amy Dearborn as the woman and me as the guy?”
“Which was the whole point of my calling on him,” Tracy said. “The guy saw a woman go in. He didn’t see her very well, and from his description it could have been Amy or it could have been me. He sat there looking me right in the face and didn’t bat an eye. We’re not sure if it was me, but still. But we know it was you. He didn’t recognize you either.”
“Yeah, because of the way I was dressed. Of course, he remembers the way I was dressed, and he just described it to Dirkson. Because it’s different from the way I’m usually dressed, it makes an impression. Dirkson’s got it already, and you can bet he’s working that angle now. He knows it was me. He knows it was you. He knows what we’ve done. The only real concern, is whether he can prove it. Right now, the chance of that is relatively slim.” Steve frowned. “Which is what bothers me.”
“Why does that bother you?”
“Because Dirkson’s smug. He’s the cat that ate the canary. He can’t prove I was the guy, but he acts like he could. So either he can and I just don’t know it yet, or it’s something else entirely. Is there a pay phone here?”
Tracy looked around. “Yeah. There’s one by the door.”
“Do me a favor. Call Mark, see what’s up.”
Tracy went and made the call. Steve sat, sipped his coffee, tried to think.
She was back in a minute.
“Nothing doing?” Steve said.
“Machine’s on. Mark went home. Message says if it’s an emergency call him at home, otherwise leave a message after the beep.”
“Shit. Any way to pick up his messages?”
“Not from here. I mean, there would be if I knew it-I know how to pick up mine-but it’s different for each machine. With Mark’s, it’s never come up before, so I don’t know it. I could find out, but I’d have to call him and ask him.”
Steve waved it away. “Let’s not go nuts over this. It will be morning soon enough. What time is it now? Jesus Christ, three o’clock.” Steve stretched. “Okay, let’s try this again. Tracy, I’m putting you in a cab. This time, I strongly advise you go home and get some sleep.”
25
“Search warrant?” Steve said.
Taylor nodded. “Yeah. That’s the word.”
“When did this happen?”
“Sometime last night.”
“And you didn’t get it till now?”
“It was on the machine when I got in. I hung out till one in the morning, Steve. The place was dead. Absolutely nothing happening. I packed it in and went home.”
“I should have had this report.”
“If I’d got it, you’d have got it.”
“I understand. I’m saying you should have got it.”
“How the hell could I?”
“I’m not blaming you, Mark. I’m just saying the report should have come in.”
“Maybe it just happened.”
Steve shook his head. “No way. Dirkson was smug.”
“What?”
“Last night when I talked to him Dirkson was smug. I wondered why. This has to be it.”
“You spoke to Dirkson last night?”
“You didn’t get that either?”
“Hey, give me a break.”
“What about the fact the cops picked up a suspect?”
“What, are you nuts? I was here when you got the call.”
“Not Amy. Tracy.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. “The cops picked up Tracy? What, just for seeing that witness?”
“No, for contaminating a crime scene.”
“What the hell?”
Steve brought Mark Taylor up to date on the meeting with Dirkson.
“Holy shit,” Taylor said. “You mean Tracy went back there to account for her fingerprints?”
“Certainly not,” Steve said. “She went there to give information to Sergeant Stams.”
Taylor winced. “Steve, why do you have to tell me this? It’s bad enough I’m doing this at all. You’re feeding me information I could lose my license for.”
“You keep asking for it.”
“That’s my job. Collecting information. But why’s it got to be so bad?”
“There’s a saving grace, Mark.”
“What’s that?”
“When Dirkson comes after us, he’ll nail me and Tracy first. At best, you’d be an afterthought.”
“You’ve made my day.”
“Face it, Mark. When you heard it was Tracy, you bought in. Now, I’ll protect you all I can. But take it for granted it’s a bad situation all around.”
“No kidding.”
“So what you got on the warrant?”
“Just that, and the fact it was served.”
“You don’t know what they got?”
“I don’t even know if they got anything.”
“Oh, they got something all right. Son of a bitch.”
“Dirkson?”
“Yeah. The bastard was playing with me.”
“Any idea what it is?”
Steve shook his head. “Not a clue. But the thing is, I sent Amy home. She wasn’t supposed to go home, just go to her neighborhood and take a cab back. Before she quote “found the body” unquote.”
“So?”
“So, what if she didn’t? What if, before she grabbed the cab, she ran up and ditched something she found at the murder scene.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. How about the murder weapon?”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, Mark, I’m playing what-if.”
“Jesus Christ,” Taylor said. “But you saw her. Talked to her. Wouldn’t you have known if she was carrying a gun?”
“I didn’t strip-search her, Mark. I didn’t even look in her purse.”
“But you don’t really think that’s it?” Taylor persisted.
“I’m guessing, Mark,” Steve said. He added pointedly, “Because I can’t seem to get any concrete information to go on.”
Taylor put up his hands. “Hey, I’ve been on the phone with my source, he’s doing the best he can. He’ll get back to me as soon as, but if the cops wanna play it close to the vest, there’s not a hell of a lot I can do.”
Steve sighed, exhaled. “You got any coffee, Mark? I’ve had about three hours sleep.”
“I got a coffee maker in the outer office.”
“It any good?”