The Anonymous Client

testify to?”

Steve shrugged. “Anything she knows.”

43

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?”

“She sure did.”

“She read the list?”

“Yes, and that’s why I wanted to call you. We got a reaction. I’m sure of it. It hit her, and it hit her hard.”

“Well, that’s what I was looking for,” Steve said. “Mark did right. I said not to call, even if you got a reaction.”

“Yeah,” Tracy said. “But it wasn’t what you wanted. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh?”

“Tracy has this theory-” Mark said.

“It’s not a theory, damn it,” Tracy said. “I know what I saw.”

“I was there too,” Mark said, “and-”

Steve held up his hands. “Hey kids, let’s not bicker. I gotta go to court. One at a time. Tracy, what did you see?”

Tracy gave Mark Taylor a look, then turned to Steve. “I saw her react. Just like you wanted. Only thing was, it wasn’t to the name Pauline Keeling.”

“Oh?”

“Mark thinks I’m crazy. But I was watching her carefully. Pauline Keeling was the last name on the list. I swear to you, she wasn’t halfway down the list when she reacted.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said. “That’s her theory, and you’re not going to shake it. Phyllis Kemper happens to be the fifth name on the list. Tracy thinks it’s a good shot.”

“And you don’t?”

Taylor shrugged. “Personally I’d love it to be true. But I just can’t see it. I mean, I’d give anything for it not to be Pauline Keeling. But Phyllis Kemper? The witness knows all about Phyllis Kemper. Why would that name cause a reaction? Whereas, Pauline Keeling’s never been mentioned, and finding that name on that list would have to be a shock.”

“I know what I saw,” Tracy said.

“Fine,” Steve said. “You serve the subpoena?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“The witness here in court?”

“She’s here.”

“Fine. Now, Tracy, I want you to sit where you’ve always sat. Will that be a problem?”

“No. I already saved the seat.”

“Fine. Now, be ready. I may ask you to stand up in court. If I do, don’t worry. You won’t have to do anything.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

“I know. I’m just telling you. Mark, you got the clipboard?”

Taylor tapped his briefcase. “Got it right here.”

“Is it in anything?”

“It’s in a paper bag.”

“Fine. And you switched the lists?”

“You bet I did. Just as quick as I could. The list on the clipboard does not have the name Pauline Keeling.”

“Good. Let me have it.”

Taylor opened the briefcase and took out the paper bag. Steve took it, nodded to the two of them, and pushed through the doors into the courtroom.

Fitzpatrick was pacing up and down by the defense table.

“There you are,” he said. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“Never miss a court date,” Steve said.

Fitzpatrick pointed to a copy of the New York Post lying on the defense table. “HARDING MURDERED, DEFENSE CHARGES,” the headline read. “You see the paper?”

“I saw the headline,” Steve said.

“Not that,” Fitzpatrick said. “I mean this.”

Fitzpatrick took the paper and flipped it open. Steve looked. It was a cartoon, a caricature of the two of them, standing in court side by side like some singing duo, Fitzpatrick in a three-piece suit, and Winslow in close to rags. A word balloon coming out of both of their mouths said, “Your Honor, we object.” The caption beneath the cartoon read: “THE ODD COUPLE.”

“I missed that,” Steve said.

“Oh, did you?” Fitzpatrick grumbled. “Well I’ll bet you none of the partners in my firm did. I’m a senior partner, for Christ’s sake, and I’m going to be lucky to get out of this with my job.”

Fitzpatrick tossed the paper back onto the table. He pointed to the paper bag. “What the hell is that?”

“That’s our defense,” Steve said. “Don’t open it. I don’t want anyone to see what’s inside.”

Fitzpatrick looked at him. “What the hell are you up to? What’s going on? I understand you served a subpoena.”

“That’s right.”

“On Margaret Millburn. A prosecution witness.”

“Yeah. Is she here?”

“She’s here all right, but she’s hopping mad. So is Dirkson, for that matter.”

“Is he charging us with abuse of process?”

“Not yet, but he isn’t happy, and he wants to know what the hell is going on.”

“I hope you didn’t tell him.”

“How could I tell him? I don’t know what the hell’s going on.” Fitzpatrick mopped his brow. “Tell me, do you do this deliberately, or does it just happen that the people you work with wind up having nervous breakdowns?”

“Relax, Fitzpatrick. I’ll handle the questioning.”

“Yeah. That’s fine. But if you don’t come up with some good questions, and if she doesn’t come up with some good answers-if you can’t show a definite purpose for calling this witness-then Dirkson is going to hit us with abuse of process. And from what I know of Judge Graves, that charge is going to stick.”

Harry Dirkson lumbered over. “You subpoenaed Margaret Millburn.”

“That I did,” Steve said.