Parnell Hall: The Naked Typist

Steve frowned. “Explain who you are?”

“Yes. I mean the fact that I’m Milton Castleton’s grandson.”

“Wait a minute,” Steve said. “Are you saying Kelly Blaine doesn’t know you?”

“Well …”

“Well what? Have you ever met the woman?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“Well, as I said, I work for Castleton Industries. She didn’t. She worked for grandfather. So, ordinarily I wouldn’t have seen her. But, uh, my father occasionally sends me on errands over there.”

“Oh? So you met her then?”

“No. I never met her, but-”

Steve’s eyes hardened. “Are you trying to tell me you watched her through the window in your grandfather’s office?”

David Castleton reacted as if his tie had just attempted to strangle him. He hooked his fingers inside the collar, tugged it down. “I resent that,” he said. “I resent the implication. I saw Miss Blaine, I thought she was a nice young woman. I’d like to talk to her. That’s all. She doesn’t have to talk to me, but she might. I know you won’t give me her phone number. That’s fine. I’ll give you mine.”

He took a card out of his jacket pocket and set it on Steve’s desk. “That’s why I say if you could speak to her for me. Tell her who I am, that I have the best intentions, and that I’d just like to talk to her. And give her my phone number. If she wants to call me, she can.”

David Castleton got up. “That’s all. That’s all I wanted to say, really. You can’t make her call me. But you could put my case in the best light possible. Point out that calling me wouldn’t obligate her to anything. If she’d at least listen to me and hear what I have to say-well, I’d appreciate it.”

David Castleton nodded to Steve Winslow, nodded somewhat perfunctorily to Tracy Garvin and walked out the door.

Tracy Garvin turned to look at Steve Winslow.

“Well, what about that?” Steve said.

Tracy frowned. “Just a minute. Let me make sure he’s gone.”

“I heard the door open and close.”

“Even so.”

Tracy got up, opened the door, looked out. She closed the door and shook her head. “Okay. I just wanted to be sure. He could have opened the outer door, closed it and come back.”

“Why would he do that?”

Tracy shrugged. “Why was he here at all?”

“He told us.”

“Yes. What do you make of all that?”

“The young man appears rather smitten with our client.”

“Whom he has never met.”

“But has seen.”

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“No, it isn’t,” Steve said. “Good lord, are we never going to be done with the Kelly Blaine case?”

“What’s your obligation at this point?”

“Absolutely none. The man’s given me a message to pass on to my client. I’m under no obligation to do it.”

“So? You gonna?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Why?”

“It’s not my decision to make. The guy wants to see her. Whether she sees him or not is up to her. Let’s just pass on the information and be done with it.”

“I’m not sure you should do that.”

“Why not?”

Tracy frowned. “I don’t know. I just don’t like this David Castleton.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

“Based on what?”

“I don’t know.”

Steve smiled. “I do. It’s ’cause you figure he’s interested in her typing. Well, you could be right. But it’s a decision our client will have to make for herself.”

“Okay. You want me to call her?”

“I think I’d better be the one to talk to her. See if you can get her on the phone.”

Tracy went over to the cabinet, pulled Kelly Blaine’s file, looked up the number and called.

She let it ring ten times and hung up. “No answer.”

“That figures,” Steve said. “She either got another job, or she’s out looking for one.”

“More likely out shopping,” Tracy said. “She just got a thirty-three-thousand-dollar settlement. Landing a new job real quick wouldn’t be a high priority.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “And some jobs might require a more extensive wardrobe than her last one.” Tracy shot him a look. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he said. “Okay. Too bad she doesn’t have an answering machine. We’ll have to try her again later. In the meantime, you got her address there?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s drop her a note asking her to call the office.”

“Fine,” Tracy said, heading for the door.

“Where you going?”

“To get my steno pad.”

“Hey, I don’t have to dictate this. It’s just, Kelly Blaine, please call my office.”

“Okay,” Tracy said.

She went out to her desk and typed the letter and the envelope, stamped and sealed it. She came back to find Steve sitting at his desk, reading the paper.

“I’m going to run this down to the post office,” she said.

“It’s not that urgent. You could drop it in the mail slot in the hall.”

“Yeah, but then it won’t get picked up till tomorrow.”

“It’s not that important,” Steve said. Then, at the look in Tracy’s eyes, “Oh, go ahead if you want to. Christ, you’re determined to make a mystery out of this, aren’t you?”

“Well, it is bizarre.”

“It was bizarre. It’s a closed case. Except for David Castleton. Which is really none of our business. I know you’d like to make something out of his interest for her. But I think basically what we have here is a horny young man who’s got the hots for our client.”

Tracy started to say something, but Steve held up his hands. “But, hey, don’t let me rain on your parade. By all means, go and mail it.”

Tracy Garvin was in a foul mood as she walked to the post office. Men. Why did Steve Winslow have to dismiss David Castleton as just a horny young man? Maybe he was, but even so. Wasn’t the fact that the grandson of the man Steve had successfully sued was interested in the client who had sued him interesting? Shouldn’t it be a top priority? As if there were any other priorities. Not that there was anything else going on in the office at the moment.

Besides, as far as Tracy was concerned, there was something about David Castleton that just didn’t quite ring true. All right, maybe it was just sex. Maybe the guy did have the hots for her. Maybe he was looking for a one-night stand and was trying to give the impression he had more honorable intentions, and that’s why he seemed slightly off.

Still maybe not.

Yeah, Tracy had to admit, maybe she did have a lot of romantic notions. Maybe she was influenced a lot by the murder mysteries she read. But hell, what was wrong with that? As far as she was concerned, the Kelly Blaine case was interesting, and she couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

When Tracy got back to the office, Steve was in his inner office with the door closed. Fine. No need to report in. There was, as usual, no work to be done. She’d try Kelly Blaine again, then go back to her book. Tracy picked up the phone, punched in the number.

Once again, there was no answer.

Five rings. Six rings. Give it ten again, and then hang up.

On the seventh ring the phone was picked up.

It was a woman.

Speaking Spanish.

Steve Winslow looked up from his desk when Tracy Garvin came in the door.

“Yeah, Tracy?” he said.

“I got an answer at Kelly Blaine’s.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. An Hispanic woman. She spoke no English, and I speak no Spanish, but we still managed to communicate. One thing for sure-the name Kelly Blaine means nothing to her.”

“Oh yeah?”