Taylor shrugged. “And that’s it.”
“Well,” Steve said. “That’s about what I expected. But I had to try. At least we got the guy’s address. We can peg him if we want.”
“Right,” Taylor said. “You asked me to tail him yesterday and I did. I got no one on him today. But a guy of his type, he’s probably still sleeping now. If you want me to slap a man on the house in Jersey, I can. But it’s gonna cost you money, and you’re probably just gonna get more of the same. But of course that’s up to you. So how do you want to play it?”
Steve thought a moment. “Tell me, how much is yesterday’s surveillance gonna run me?”
Taylor smiled. “Is two hundred bucks the figure you were looking for?”
Steve grinned. “Damned if it isn’t. All right, Mark. You called the turn. We’ve given our men a run for his money. I don’t see there’s much else we can do. Wrap it up and send me the bill.” Steve shook his head. “Unless he turns up dead in some alley, clutching a particularly strangely worded handwritten will, I would say we can close the books on our homeless millionaire.”
6.
IT WAS NEARLY TWO WEEKS LATER. Steve Winslow was seated at his desk reading the morning paper. Since the homeless millionaire incident, Steve had varied his reading routine. Now he scanned the obituaries before turning to the drama section. So far, the name Jack Walsh had not appeared. Steve didn’t really expect that it would. On the other hand, he wasn’t that sure that it wouldn’t.
He’d already done the obituaries and the drama and moved on to the sports, when Tracy Garvin came in closing the door behind her.
“Someone here to see you,” she said.
“Oh? A man or a woman?”
Tracy hesitated.
Steve grinned. “Don’t tell me our visitor is of indeterminate sex.”
“No. He’s male.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Well, you said a man or a woman. I was afraid the answer to that would be misleading.”
“Oh really? This is almost fun. Don’t spoil it by explaining. Just show the visitor in.”
Tracy nodded, went out and came back moments later ushering in a young man.
At first glance the mystery was solved. Steve had to suppress a grin. Tracy was absolutely right. “There’s a gentleman here to see you,” would have been slightly misleading.
The visitor was a teenager-of that much Steve was certain. Beyond that he couldn’t really tell. Steve was far enough removed from his own teens not to be able to judge the age that accurately. He put his visitor’s age somewhere between twelve and twenty.
Of course, the young man’s appearance didn’t help him any. His head had been shaved into a bristly mohawk that had been dyed a shocking green, and he had a gold earring in one ear. The effect, Steve supposed, was to make him look tough, or bad, or cool, whatever it was teenagers aspired to these days. In Steve’s mind it merely made him look young.
Tracy Garvin couldn’t help giving Steve an I-told-you-so look as she said, “Mr. Winslow, Jeremy Dawson.”
Steve Winslow stood up. “How do you do, Mr. Dawson?”
Jeremy Dawson looked at him. Then at Tracy Garvin. Then back at Steve. He snuffled his nose and wrinkled up his brow. He squinted at Steve. “You the lawyer?”
“That’s right. I’m Steve Winslow. Why?”
Jeremy didn’t look convinced. He smiled, but the smile was somewhat forced. “I dunno.” He shook his head. Shrugged. “You just don’t look like a lawyer.”
Steve shot Tracy a look. “Well,” Steve said, “appearances can be misleading.”
If Jeremy caught the irony, he didn’t show it. He nodded. “Yeah. That’s true. So you’re the lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“The one Uncle Jack came to see.”
“Uncle Jack?”
“Yeah. Jack Walsh.”
Steve took a breath. “Oh dear.”
Jeremy looked at him. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, “but we may have a little trouble here. Sit down, Mr. Dawson, I’ll try to explain it to you.”
Jeremy looked at Steve for a minute. He appeared to be unwilling to sit because he’d been asked to do so, as if part of his attitude was to defy any suggestion on principle. After a moment, however, he turned and seated himself in the chair.
Steve sat at his desk. Tracy, looking terribly amused, pulled up a chair and flipped open her shorthand notebook.
“All right,” Steve said. “Look. If you want to come in here and ask me questions about a client, I can’t answer them. The relationship between an attorney and client is privileged. I can’t violate that confidence. So before you say anything, you should know I have no intention of answering any questions-”
Jeremy held up his hands. “Hey, man. No problem. You can skip the sermon. I heard it already from Uncle Carl. That’s Carl Jenson. The guy who was in here a couple of weeks ago trying to pump you for information. He didn’t get it. I know all about it. I overheard him talking to Fred and Jason. So you can skip the spiel. I’m not here for information. I’m here ’cause I need help.”
Steve frowned. “That might present a problem.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know till I hear the facts. It’s conceivable there could be a conflict of interest here. I might not be free to act in your behalf.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t want you to act in my behalf.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t want you to help me. I want you to help Uncle Jack.”
Steve frowned again. “Perhaps you’d better explain.”
“Yeah, right. Well, Uncle Jack’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“They locked him up.”
“Locked him up?”
“Yeah.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“In Bellevue. They locked him up in Bellevue.”
“You mean they had him committed?”
“That’s right.”
“Who?”
“Jason and Fred.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last night.”
“You wanna tell me about it?”
Jeremy shrugged. “Not much to tell. They’d been planning it for months. I’d overhear them sometimes. They had it all set. Had this doctor at Bellevue lined up to commit him. Doctor, hell. Damn headshrinker. These guys got some nerve callin’ themselves doctors, you know? But Jason and Fred found this guy, sold him a story. Probably promised him a wad of cash too. Had him draw up the papers.”
“The papers?”
“Yeah. They were all set to commit Uncle Jack. The only problem was, they couldn’t find him. Two weeks ago, when uncle Carl was up here-that’s the first time they’d seen him in months.” Jeremy shrugged. “Of course, Uncle Carl’s such a douchebag lamebrain. He couldn’t stick with him. Uncle Jack just ditched him. That’s why Carl was in here giving you such a hard time. ’Cause he knew he’d blown it and he felt like a total asshole.” Jeremy grinned and shook his head. “I tell you, Jason and Fred really gave it to him good. For losing him, I mean.”
“Why’d he tell ‘em?”
“What?”
“If he knew they’d be mad, why’d he tell ‘em he saw the guy at all?”
“He had to. He saw Uncle Jack in the street. He called Fred right away, told him he’d spotted Uncle Jack and to rush right down with the commitment papers. By the time Fred got there, Uncle Jack had given Carl the slip. That’s why Carl was so hot to get the information out of you. He knew he’d fucked up royally and was in the dog house, and he wanted to do something to get out from under.”
“And yesterday?”
“Same thing. Only this time it was Fred spotted Uncle Jack. He called Jason, they rushed the papers over, and this time they served him.”
“Who did?”
“Two hospital orderlies. Found him in a subway station. Put a straightjacket on him and carted him away.”
“And he’s in Bellevue now?”
“That’s right.”
“So whaddya want me to do?”
“Get him out.”
“Why?”
Jeremy scrunched up his face. “Hey, man. What kind of question is that?”
“I want to know how you come into all this. Why do you want your uncle out?”
“He isn’t crazy.”