But later. Much later. First to business.
He went out of the bathroom, sat down on the bed, picked up the phone and began making calls.
12
Mark Taylor settled back in the clients’ chair, flipped open his notebook, looked up at Steve Winslow and Tracy Garvin, and said, “O.K. Here’s the dope.
“Yesterday afternoon Jack Walsh left the subway and went straight back to his hotel, got his key from the desk, went up to his room. Two-oh-five. Two-fifteen he’s back down again, walks to the corner, mails a letter, walks down to the Chase Manhattan Bank and presents a check to the teller. She directs him to the supervisor, who goes through the usual red-tape bullshit-only it being Jack Walsh, perhaps slightly more than the usual red-tape bullshit-but eventually he initials the check. Walsh takes it back to the teller, who doesn’t seem too convinced but who eventually pushes the money through the window. Walsh stuffs it in his pockets and leaves.”
“How much money?” Steve said.
“I don’t know, and the bank won’t say. I might have had a chance of finding out if it weren’t for the fact Jason Tindel and Fred Grayson are after the same thing.
“When he left the bank, Fred Grayson tagged along and Jason Tindel stayed behind to hit on the bank supervisor. One of my men stayed behind to watch. From what he observed, Tindel didn’t get any satisfaction. But he sure did cause a fuss. The supervisor called in reinforcements, and it took the branch manager to come out and tell Jason Tindel to get lost. After all that, there’s not a prayer of them letting the information slip.”
“Gotcha,” Steve said. “What’s next?”
“Jack Walsh went straight back to his hotel and up to his room. Fred Grayson tagged along. About twenty minutes later Jason Tindel got back there, followed of course by my other man.
“Jason and Fred confer in the lobby. Now my men can’t get close enough to hear what they’re saying, but apparently they’re discussing shifts. Tailing Jack Walsh, I mean. Like setting up a schedule. At least that’s what I figure, ’cause anyway they talk a bit and then Grayson leaves. So I figure Tindel’s drawn the first shift, however long that’s gonna be, then Grayson’s gonna replace him, then probably Carl Jenson after that, and so on.”
“Don’t you know?” Steve said.
“No.”
“You mean you lost him?”
Taylor held up his hands. “No, no, no. Nothing like that. You’ll see why. Just let me tell it.
“O.K., so it’s like you think. Tindel’s got the first shift, I don’t know how long or who’s next, but I’ll find out when the relief arrives.
“Only it doesn’t happen that way. What does? Well, first off, around-” Mark checked the notebook, “-6:26 my man puts it, a van pulls up outside. A team of men get out, start unloading trays of food. Hot food. You know, like steam trays on wheels. The guy in charge goes up to the desk, asks for room 926. Which happens to be Jack Walsh’s room. So Jason Tindel pumps one of the waiters. My man overhears. It turns out the van’s from Lutece. Our homeless bum’s ordered a two-hundred-and-forty-nine-dollar meal, specifying each and every item, from the Chateaubriand to the vintage wine. Moreover, the head waiter comes down grinning like a Cheshire cat, so we can assume Jack Walsh was in no way stingy about the tip.”
“Right, right,” Steve said. “But the schedule. How come you don’t know when Tindel was relieved?”
“’Cause of what happened next.”
“Which was?”
“Starting seven-thirty they all show up.”
“They?”
“The family. The Tindels, the Graysons, Aunt Claire and the gang.”
“All together.”
“All of
“Why’d they show up?”
“Walsh sent for ‘em.”
“How do you know?”
“From what happened. See, with all those people milling around it got a little hairy for my men. Of course, they don’t want to be spotted. With so many people there, there was a good chance someone would get wise. Particularly after Carl Jenson showed up. He’s a wary son of a bitch. Suspicious nature, eyes open all the time, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So anyway, the relatives are off in a corner of the lobby conferring in low tones and my men can only catch a word or two here or there. So when I say Jack Walsh sent for them, I’m inferring that from what happened.”
“Which is?” Steve said somewhat impatiently.
“Yeah, yeah,” Taylor said. “Sorry. Which is, they all went up to see Jack Walsh one at a time.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Like clockwork, starting at eight o’clock. It’s easier if I just give it to you. Here you go. Two minutes of eight, Jason Tindel goes up in the elevator; 8:14 he’s back down. They all converge on him, they’re all talking at once, you can’t make out a thing. Best you can tell, they’re not happy. Jason Tindel, at least, does not look happy.
“8:27-Fred Grayson up in the elevator. 8:38-Grayson down. Same thing.
“8:57-Rose Tindel up in the elevator. 9:10-Rose Tindel down.
“9:26-Pat Grayson up in the elevator. 9:37-Pat Grayson down.
“9:58-Claire Chesterton up in the elevator. 10:10-Claire Chesterton down.
“And last but not least: 10:26-Carl Jenson up in the elevator. 10:36-Carl Jenson down.”
Taylor flipped the notebook shut. “And that’s that. When Jenson came down they all conferred one last time, apparently over shifts. Because immediately after that everybody left but Jason Tindel. He staked out the lobby and was on till three in the morning, relieved by Fred Grayson. Fred stayed on till eight, when Carl Jenson took over. Jenson’s there now.” Taylor shrugged. “Not that it’s doing any good. So far, Walsh hasn’t shown.”
“By rights he should be dead,” Tracy said.
Steve and Mark looked at her.
“What?” Steve said.
Tracy grinned. “I just mean it would be perfect. From a murder-mystery point of view. I mean look. Here’s a millionaire. He’s being visited by all his heirs one at a time. You got a detective taking notes of the exact times each one of them went in. Plus you got the Lutece van, so you know exactly when he had his dinner and what he ate. So the medical examiner would be able to determine the time of death by the stomach contents. It would be a nice, tidy little case.”
Taylor shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, don’t knock it,” Steve said. “You said Walsh hasn’t shown yet. So take it a step further. What if he doesn’t show and sooner or later a chambermaid goes in and finds him dead?”
Now Taylor stared at Steve. “Are you serious?”
Steve grinned. “No, but what the hell. It’s an interesting idea, we might as well play with it. What would happen then?”
“I know what would happen then,” Taylor said. “I would be sitting on top of a huge pile of evidence in a first-degree murder case, and you would be handing me oh-so plausible reasons why I should be withholding it from the police, and I would be having a nervous breakdown.”
“Relax,” Steve said. “You worry too much. We’re only playing what-if here. Wait till the corpse turns up.”
“Yeah,” Taylor said. “That’s the what-if I’m talking about. What if a corpse turns up?”
“In that case,” Steve said. “I would instruct you to take all of your operatives’ notes and make a full and
