to order me to produce them. But he didn’t do that.”
Tracy frowned. “Why not?”
“Only one reason I can think of.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s already got them. And if he has, it’s ten to one he found them in Bradshaw’s apartment.”
Tracy’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. What are you going to do?”
Steve shrugged. “That’s the thing. I really don’t know.”
“I see.”
“You do? Good. So get the chip off your shoulder and let me bring you up to date, and then with all due respect get the hell out of here ’cause I’ve got some thinking to do.”
After he’d told Tracy everything he felt she needed to know and she’d departed for the outer office, Steve leaned back in his chair, rubbed his forehead, and blew out a breath of air. Yeah, he had some thinking to do, but there was one thing he’d already thought out. One thing he knew he had to do. He just didn’t really want to do it.
Steve tipped the chair forward and picked up the phone. When he did so, the light on the receiver went on, to indicate that the line was in use. Steve frowned. He realized the light on Tracy’s phone would have gone on too. He didn’t like that. He wondered if Tracy would be curious enough to try to listen in on his calls. He wasn’t sure. But he figured if she picked up, he’d hear a click on the line.
Steve shook his head. Shit, what was he doing. Tracy wasn’t the problem. He was just thinking all that because he didn’t want to make the call. He leaned forward and punched in the number of Judy Meyers.
Steve Winslow and Judy Meyers had an off-again on-again relationship. Usually it was off-again, and usually, Steve realized, that was his fault. Steve shied away from close relationships, and had a paranoid fear of being tied down. For him, two dates in a row seemed something like a commitment. So his relationship with Judy Meyers could at best be described as arm’s length. For the present, to the best of his recollection, he hadn’t called her in over a month.
Which was why he felt like such a shit for calling her now.
“Hello?” Judy said.
“Judy. Steve.”
There was pause, then, “The man lives. How you doing?”
“Pretty good.”
“I’ll bet.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Is this social, sexual, or business?”
Steve sighed. “I need a favor.”
“You in a jam?”
“Yeah. Kind of.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Figures. What do you need?”
“Got a pencil and paper?”
“Always. You could have been my agent with an audition.”
“Fine. Take this down.”
Steve gave her Bradshaw’s address.
“O.K. What about it?”
“It’s an apartment building with a side alley. I’m interested in the side alley.”
“You want me to go prowling around in some alley?”
“Not at all. In fact, I don’t want you to go near the place.”
Judy laughed. “You’ll pardon me if I’m not quite following this.”
“Good. It’s better if you don’t.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“This is fascinating. So what am I supposed to do about this address that I’m not to go to?”
“I want you to go to the neighborhood. Maybe a block or so away. Just so you don’t go near the building.”
“Then what?”
“Then I want you to find a couple of young boys playing in the street.”
“Steve, have you been drinking?”
“No. Find some young boys. If you can’t find any, you may have to look around. But again, don’t go near the address.”
“How young would you like these boys?” Judy asked facetiously.
“Young enough they don’t rape you, but old enough you hold their interest.”
“Great. I love the buildup. Say I find these boys. Then what?”
“Then you ask them if they’d like to play a game.”
“Is there a point to all this? If so, I wish you’d tell me, ’cause I’d like to get on with my life.”
“O.K. Here’s the point. You tell ’em you’ll give the winner ten bucks and the loser five bucks. Tell ’em the game is a treasure hunt. Give ’em the address I gave you, and tell ’em the treasure is in the alley next to that building.”
“Son of a bitch,” Judy said. “Did you get another murder case?”
“I didn’t get it. It got me. I’m sorry to ask you, but I don’t know who else to trust, and I happen to be in a lot of trouble.”
“Shit. Don’t tell me. The treasure’s a bullet, right?”
“No.”
“Well, you gonna tell me what it is?”
“The treasure is a crumpled piece of paper with the words, ‘Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their party,’ on it.”
There was a pause. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Not at all.”
“There really is such a paper?”
“Yes.”
“And it really is important?”
“You wouldn’t believe. If you get it don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone, know you’ve got it. Just bring it to me.”
“And if I get the paper?”
“I’ll buy you dinner.”
“What a prince. And what if I don’t get the paper?”
“I’ll pay your bail.”
19
Steve Winslow raised his right hand, took the oath, and seated himself on the witness stand.
Harry Dirkson, ever the politician, smiled at the grand jury before turning to Steve. It was not a broad, triumphant smile, even though Dirkson must have relished the thought of having his adversary on the witness stand where he could give him a good going over. No, the smile was just a quick acknowledgment of the grand jury’s presence before Dirkson turned crisply to the matter at hand. This was serious business, Dirkson’s manner seemed to say. This was murder.
“Mr. Winslow, what is your occupation?”
“I am an attorney-at-law.”
