Parnell Hall - The Anonymous Client

“Right,” Steve said. “Where?”

“Hang on a minute. Let me dig it out,” Mark said. He went over to a cabinet, wrestled through some files, and pulled out a folder. “O.K., here we go. The first call was from a drug store on the corner of 3rd Street and Avenue C. The other call was from a pay phone on the corner of 3rd Street and Avenue B.”

“Those are the corners on Bradshaw’s block, right?”

“Right.”

“O.K. Good. Tracy, got your steno pad?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. We’re going to make a list.”

“What’s up, Steve?” Mark said.

“I’m not sure,” Steve said. “I want to try a little experiment.”

“To prove what?”

“That remains to be seen. I won’t know unless it happens. I haven’t figured it all out yet. But I just want to try something.”

Tracy had opened the steno pad. “All set,” she said.

“Good,” Steve said. “Now I want you to make a list.”

“A list of what?”

“Names. Names of people involved in the case. Start with David C. Bradshaw and Donald Blake.”

Tracy’s pencil flew over the pad. “Yeah?”

“Let’s see. Marilyn Harding, Douglas Kemper, and Phyllis Kemper.”

“You want them as a group?”

“No. It’s a list. One name to a line.”

“O.K.”

“Harry Dirkson.”

“What?” Taylor said.

“Sure,” Steve said. “Harry Dirkson. He’s involved in the case, isn’t he?”

Taylor shook his head. “I wish I knew what you were getting at.

“Probably better you don’t,” Steve said. “Put down Dirkson.”

“Got him. Who’s next?”

“Mark Taylor.”

“What?” Taylor said.

“Sure,” Steve said. “You’re involved in the case, aren’t you?”

“Steve, I don’t want my name on a list.”

“Relax. You feel picked on? O.K. After Mark Taylor, put down Steve Winslow and Tracy Garvin.”

Taylor stared at him. “Steve, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m having fun. It happens to be the first time in this damn case I’ve had a chance to have fun, and you’re not going to spoil it for me. How many names is that?”

Tracy counted up. “That’s nine.”

“We need a few more. All right, Charles Miltner. And you got the names of his men in your notes?”

“Yeah.”

“O.K. Copy ’em in. There are four of ’em, right?”

“Right.”

Tracy looked up the names and copied them in.

“O.K.,” Steve said. “Read me back the list.”

“David C. Bradshaw. Donald Blake. Marilyn Harding. Douglas Kemper. Phyllis Kemper. Harry Dirkson. Mark Taylor. Steve Winslow. Tracy Garvin. Charles Miltner. Jason Fisher. Saul Burroughs. Fred Grimes. Michael Reed.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “And last but not least, Pauline Keeling.”

“Steve,” Mark said. “Please. Don’t blow that for me.”

“Relax,” Steve said. “All right, Tracy, look. I want you to type up that list. One name to a line, with a space between ’em so they stand out. That should just about fill a page, right?”

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “Should be fine.”

“Good. Now, I want you to type the list twice. The second time you type it, leave off the name, Pauline Keeling. Got a typewriter she can use, Mark?”

“By the reception desk.”

“O.K. Come on. Let’s type ’em up.”

They went out to the reception area and Tracy typed the lists. Steve took them and looked at them. He nodded.

“O.K. Now you got a metal clipboard? One that looks official?”

“Yeah.”

Taylor rummaged in the desk and came out with a clipboard. Steve took the first list, the one with Pauline Keeling’s name on it, and clipped it on. He held it up and inspected it.

“Fine,” he said. “Now look, Mark, you got a female operative? One you can really trust?”

“I can scare one up, Steve, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“We don’t have time. Tracy, how’d you like to do a little detective work?”

Tracy looked at him. “You’re kidding?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re on. What have I got to do?”

“O.K. Look, Mark. Here’s what I want you to do. Take Tracy down to Bradshaw’s. Then I want you to get her in the foyer door. You won’t have any trouble, a credit card will do.”

“Are we gonna get into trouble over this?” Taylor said.

“We’re in trouble already. I’m trying to get us out. Now, the witness across the hall. What’s her name again?”

“Margaret Millburn.”

“Fine. You go in, you have Tracy knock on her door. It’s gotta be Tracy, ’cause she probably wouldn’t open it for you. You keep in the background. But when the door’s open, you’re there. See what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

Steve looked at Tracy. “All right. This is important. You don’t say you’re cops. Got it?”

“Right. What do we say?”

“Sorry to inconvenience you, it’s about the trial, you’ve been asked to verify the names on that list. That’s all you say. Don’t give her a chance to think about it, just hand her the list.

“And that’s where you play detective. You watch her carefully when she reads the names. See if there’s any reaction.”

Taylor’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, shit, Steve, I get it. You mean Pauline Keeling may have been lying. She may have been there more than once. You know this may fry my source.”

“Come on, Mark,” Steve said. “If Pauline Keeling killed him, you can’t expect me to hush it up. Short of that, I’m going to protect you any way I can. That’s why there are two lists.”

Steve turned to Tracy Garvin. “Look, Tracy. I know you’re going to love playing detective, and you’re going to want to make a big score. But some things work and some don’t. You can’t push it. You just do the best you can. The main thing is, get her to take the list. Put it in her hands, first thing. If you can get her to look at it, great, but if she refuses and hands it back, well, it’s not your fault, there’s nothing we can do about it, and you shouldn’t go kicking yourself in the head about it all night.”

Tracy looked disappointed. “And that’s all we do?” she said.

“Believe me, that’s a lot,” Steve said. “But, no, that’s not all. Mark, after Tracy’s done her stuff, no matter how it goes, slap a subpoena on her.”

Mark looked at him. “On a prosecution witness?”

“That’s right,” Steve said. “Only don’t play it too soon. Give Tracy every chance to do her stuff first. But make sure you get it served.”

“You’re going to put Margaret Millburn on the stand?” Taylor said. “What the hell are you going to have her testify to?”

Steve shrugged. “Anything she knows.”

Steve Winslow was late getting to court. That was because he’d had his first good night’s sleep in a week. He’d left Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin at the office making out the subpoena, told them not to call him to report anything short of Margaret Millburn positively identifying Pauline Keeling as the murderer, gone home, flopped on his bed, and gone out like a light.

He’d slept long and late, got up, showered, shaved, had breakfast, and caught a cab to the court.

Mark Taylor and Tracy Garvin were waiting for him outside the courtroom.

“Jesus Christ,” Taylor said. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Never fear,” Steve said. “So, how’d it go?”

“Like a charm,” Taylor said. “Tracy wanted to call you and tell you, but I wouldn’t let her.”

“My appreciation will be reflected in your check,” Steve said.

Tracy looked ready to explode.

“O.K.,” Steve said. “Let’s have it. She took the clipboard?”