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
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?”
Thorngood looked at him in surprise. “Surely that’s your department.”
“Yeah, but I’d like your input. Suppose I took this case. What possible defense would I have?”
“Surely there are several. Accidental death is one. Self-defense is another. Also the body was nude. That brings up the possibility of rough sex.”
“As the defense tried in the Chambers case.”
“Exactly.”
“That didn’t work.”
“Yes and no. He pled guilty to a lesser charge.”
“Is that what you’re looking for here?”
“Of course not. I want my son freed. But if worst came to worst, you have to consider every possibility.”
Steve looked at him for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not taking the case.”
Thorngood looked at him in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m offering you a hundred-thousand-dollar cash retainer.”
“I’m turning it down.”
“You can’t turn it down. Not an attorney in your position. It’s too big a case. My attorneys controlled publicity this morning, but that’s all they can do. By tonight it will be all over the media. By tomorrow it will be front-page news. You mentioned the Chambers case. You remember what the publicity was like? Well, this is the same thing. I’m a prominent person. The press will eat it up. It’s a chance for you to make a name for yourself. A young attorney in your position, you can’t turn it down.”
“I just did.”
Thorngood drew himself up. “Why?”
Steve looked him right in the eye. “Because I think your son’s guilty.”
Thorngood’s face hardened. “That’s not your decision to make. You’re not a judge and jury. You’re an attorney. My son is innocent until proven guilty, that’s the law. He has the right to a trial by jury. He has the right to an attorney.”
“Yes, he does,” Steve said. “He just doesn’t have the right to insist that that attorney be me.” Steve stood up. “I’m very sorry.”
Thorngood sat there, not quite believing it. Then he stood, shot Steve a look of contempt, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Steve turned to Tracy Garvin.
She was staring at him. “Why did you do that?”
“I told you. He’s an important businessman and I didn’t want to waste his time.”
“No, I mean why did you turn him down?”
“You have to ask me that? A guy kills his girlfriend. Rough sex. Can you see me defending that?” Steve clapped his hands together. “All right, Tracy. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s give Mr. Walsh our full attention.”
2
Steve had a chance to size up Mr. Walsh while Tracy ushered him into the room and sat him in the clients’ chair. The description, he figured, had been accurate. Only it hadn’t gone far enough. Mr. Walsh was indeed unshaven and dressed in the clothes of a street person. But there are street people and street people. Some of them are sniveling and pitiful and helpless. Some of them are loud, truculent and obnoxious. Some of them are nauseatingly polite, thanking and god-blessing each and every person who ignores their entreaties.
Mr. Walsh didn’t fall into any category except the one regarding his appearance. He had a fright wig of snow-white hair framing his unshaven face. The hairs of his stubbly beard were considerably darker, perhaps naturally, or, Steve reflected, perhaps colored by dirt. The latter was certainly possible, as there were dirt smudges on the cheeks and nose.
He wore a flannel shirt, slightly askew and not tucked into his gabardine pants, a sweater-vest fastened by a single button, and a heavy tweed overcoat that had obviously seen better days. The coat looked as if someone had slept in it, which someone obviously had. The overall effect was to give Mr. Walsh the appearance of the most pitiful of street people-the lunatic, the mental incompetent.
Except for the eyes. The eyes belied the whole image. They were sharp and focused and clear.
They took in Steve Winslow at a glance. If Mr. Walsh was surprised by Steve’s appearance, he didn’t show it. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it either. His mouth was set in a straight line. His head was up and his jaw was out, quarrelsomely, as if expecting a fight.
“So,” he said. “You’re Winslow.”
Steve smiled. “That’s right. I’m Steve Winslow. This is my secretary, Tracy Garvin. And you’re Mr. Walsh?”
“That’s right. Jack Walsh.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Walsh?”
Walsh jerked his thumb. “You can tell her to leave.”
Steve smiled again. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Walsh. Miss Garvin is my secretary, takes notes on everything I do. If you don’t want to talk to her, you can’t talk to me. It’s as simple as that.”
