Parnell Hall - The Underground Man

Tracy Garvin pushed the long blonde hair out of her face and said, “There are two men in the outer office.”

Steve Winslow looked up from his desk. “Two?”

“Yes.”

“Together?”

“No.”

“I have two potential clients?”

“That’s right.”

Steve grinned. “A new world record. Who are they?”

“One is a Mr. Walsh. The other is a Mr. Thorngood.”

“What do they want to see me about?”

“They wouldn’t say.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Neither of them?”

“No.”

“Better and better. Describe them. What are they like?”

Tracy frowned. “Well, they’re quite different. Thorngood’s about fifty. Walsh is older, say about seventy-five. But that’s the least of it. Mr. Walsh is … how shall I say it … well, he looks like a street person.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. His clothes are dirty. His hair’s uncombed. And he’s unshaved. Not that he has a beard-he’s just unshaved, if you know what I mean.”

Steve nodded. “Aha,” he said. “And he won’t tell you what he wants?”

“No. And the impression he gives is not that he has anything to hide, but that it’s none of my damn business. He’ll discuss it with the lawyer. He’s a cantankerous old cuss. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he wants to see you, and he’s prepared to sit there until doomsday until he does.”

“I see,” Steve said. “And Mr. Thorngood?”

“Just the opposite in every way. Impeccably dressed. Tailor-made three-piece suit. Looks like he just stepped out of a barber chair, and probably did.”

“And he won’t tell you his business either?”

“No, but in his case it’s not just stubbornness. He says it’s a delicate matter, and he’ll discuss it only with the attorney. He’s nervous and impatient, which seems out of character for him. He strikes me as someone who’s used to getting his own way.”

Steve frowned, considered a moment. “All right,” he said. “Show Mr. Thorngood in.”

Tracy hesitated a moment. “Mr. Walsh was here first.”

“That’s all right,” Steve said. “You said he’s prepared to wait. Show Mr. Thorngood in.”

Tracy took off her glasses and folded them up.

Steve recognized the gesture. It was a habit she had when she was annoyed about something.

Steve held up his hand. “Tracy. Mr. Thorngood is a businessman. His time is valuable. Let’s not waste any of it for him. You wanna argue this with me, argue it later. Meanwhile, show the gentleman in.”

Tracy gave him a look, opened the door, and flounced out. She returned a minute later, ushering in Mr. Thorngood.

He was, Steve felt, exactly as she’d described. An aggressive executive type, confident and sure of himself. When he saw Steve, however, a look of doubt crossed his face. Steve wasn’t surprised. Though in his mid-thirties, Steve looked younger. He was dressed as usual in corduroy jacket, jeans and T-shirt. This attire, combined with his shoulder-length hair, wasn’t exactly a businessman’s image of a lawyer.

Steve rose, extended his hand. “Mr. Thorngood.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Thorngood shook it. “Mr. Winslow.”

“Please be seated,” Steve said. “Tracy, stay and take notes.”

Thorngood shot a look at Tracy Garvin. In sweater and blue jeans, she wasn’t his image of a legal secretary either. More like a college student.

Thorngood frowned. “My business is strictly confidential.”

Steve smiled. “Of course.” He sat and gestured to Tracy to do the same.

Thorngood frowned again. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I prefer to speak to you alone.”

“I understand perfectly,” Steve said. “Miss Garvin is my secretary. Anything you tell me, she’s gonna know. So if you don’t want her to know it, don’t tell me.”

Thorngood hesitated a moment, then seated himself in the clients’ chair.

Tracy pulled up a chair, sat down, and opened her notebook.

“All right,” Steve said. “What’s this all about?”

Thorngood rubbed his hand across his brow. “My son was arrested last night.”

“For what?”

“Murder.”

“Murder!” Steve said. “But with a man of your prominence-I mean, there was nothing in the paper.”

“So far my lawyers have kept it out of the papers. They can’t for long. By tonight it will be public knowledge.”

“Lawyers?”

“Yes. Cunningham, Randolph, and Bloom.”

“If you have your own lawyers-”

“I know, I know,” Thorngood said. “They’re a conservative firm. Handle mostly corporation work. They themselves suggested outside counsel.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the one. The one they told me about. You defended in the Harding case.”

“I was co-counsel.”

“Right. With Fitzpatrick, Blackburn, and Weed, a conservative law firm, slightly out of its depth.”

“Establishing the precedent,” Steve said. “I see. That doesn’t necessarily mean it would work again. What’s the case?”

Thorngood took a breath. “My son is accused of killing his girlfriend.”

“Did he?”

Thorngood frowned. “That’s not the point.”

“Maybe not, but it’s relevant.”

Thorngood frowned again. “I prefer to tell it my way.”

“Go ahead.”

“The girl is Kathy Wade. David had been seeing her for a couple of months. David is my son. My only son. And he’d been seeing this girl. This Kathy Wade. Or so I’m told. David is not particularly communicative about his affairs. So I didn’t know about this Kathy Wade. I mean, the first I heard about her she was dead.”

“Go on.”

Thorngood took a breath. “This is hard. I’m piecing this together from what I learned after the fact. What David told me. And the police. But he’d been seeing her off and on for a couple of months. But nothing serious. And there wouldn’t be. Not the type of girl I’d have approved of, really. Part-time actress, full-time waitress. Nothing serious. Just a casual fling.”

Steve took a breath. “Go on.”

“Well, it was last night. They’d been on a date. David had her up to his apartment. He has his own Manhattan apartment. Upper East Side.”

“Yes?”

“Well, they’d been drinking. Among other things. Police found marijuana in her purse.”

“Yeah. So?”

Thorngood gulped. “This is very hard.”

“I understand.”

“Her neck was broken.”

“How?”

“How? What do you mean, how? Twisted. Broken.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“And …”

“Yes?”

“She was naked and her clothes were torn.”

“I see.”

Thorngood looked up sharply. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. Just the sort of thing people say. So, what’s David’s story?”

“You’ll have to get that from David.”

“You talked to him. What did he tell you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he kill her?”

Thorngood frowned. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh?”

“That’s not the issue here. That’s for a jury to decide.”

“Of course. But a lawyer has to have the facts. What are the facts? Did he kill her?”

Thorngood rubbed his head. “These are the facts. David didn’t say he killed her. He was with her when she died.”

Thorngood pulled a checkbook out of his jacket pocket. “I’m prepared to offer a retainer of a hundred thousand dollars.”

Steve held up his hand. “Hang on to that for a minute. We’re still talking here.”

“I’ve told you all I know. The rest you’ll have to get from David.”

“That remains to be seen. Tell me, what defense does your son have?”