Steve Winslow couldn’t tell which. And, he figured, with anyone else he probably could. But this punk kid, this bald teenager staring up at him, this stupid street-smart crack dealer, he couldn’t read at all.
Steve sighed. “There’s a problem with the will, Jeremy.”
“What do you mean? What problem?”
“The will isn’t signed.”
“What are you talking about? I saw him write it. He wrote his name on it.”
“He didn’t sign it at the bottom.”
“What the hell difference does it make?”
“Maybe none. But the point is, your relatives are contesting it.”
“Can they win?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is they’re contesting it. Whether they can win or not is a moot point. That means it’s not important, it doesn’t matter. What’s important is they’re contesting it at all.”
“Why?”
“Because until the will contest is settled, the will can’t be probated and you can’t inherit.”
“Oh.”
“Which means you can’t touch the money, and I can’t use it to pay your bail.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly. Which means right now the only way for you to get out of here is to have twelve people stand up and say ‘not guilty.’ So forget the will, forget the money, forget the bail. Beating the rap, that’s the only thing now.”
Jeremy held up his hands. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. I can’t forget the will. Now, you say they’re contesting it-how can they do that?”
“Any relative can contest a will.”
“No, I mean what are they claiming?”
“First of all, that the will isn’t signed.”
“It
“It’s a debatable point. I’m gonna debate it in court. I don’t need to debate it with you.”
“But isn’t it a point you can win?”
“Nothing’s certain. Let’s just say we got a good shot.”
“O.K. What else do they claim?”
“They’ll claim undue influence.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you were with your uncle when he wrote the will, that you coerced him into writing it.”
“Bullshit. It was all his idea. I didn’t even know he was doing it.”
“I understand. I’m just telling you what they’ll claim.”
“Well, they’re wrong.”
“And I will so inform the judge. I’m on your side, Jeremy. You don’t have to argue this with me.”
“Yeah, right. What else will they claim?”
“That Jack Walsh wasn’t of sound mind when he made the will.”
“Wait a minute. That’s been decided. You proved he was.”
“A judge ruled him sane then. It doesn’t mean one now will rule he was.”
“But-”
Steve Winslow held up his hands. “Look, kid. I’m trying to help. But I talk to you, and I can’t help feeling, ‘My god, am I here all alone?’ Now I understand, a million bucks is a lot of money, you’re interested, you wanna know if you’re gonna get it.
“But get this through your thick head. If you’re convicted of murder, one, you’re going to jail and two, you ain’t getting a cent. So get your head out of the clouds, stop thinking about the damn money, and give me some help with this damn murder case.”
Steve stopped and rubbed his head. “Now, you’ve had time to think about it. Who had the combination to your locker? Who could have taken the gun?”
Jeremy sighed and shook his head. “There’s no one.”
“Nobody ever picked up something for you after school?”
“No.”
“No one you ever asked to do you a favor, to get something out of your locker for you?”
“No.”
“What about the movie?”
“What?”
“The movie. And afterwards. Your alibi. You remember anyone who saw you, anyone at all?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Think. You must have seen someone.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“The whole time?”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t see anyone?”
“No.”
Steve sighed. “Christ, you’re a big help.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
Steve looked at him. He shook his head. “No, you’re not,” he said. “But let me tell you something. When District Attorney Harry Dirkson gets you on the witness stand-” Steve pointed his finger, “-
27
Mark Taylor flipped open his notebook.
“O.K., here’s the dope. Alibis, get your alibis, red-hot alibis. The way it stacks up, the women got ‘em and the men don’t.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Claire Chesterton, Pat Grayson and Rose Tindel all alibi each other. Convenient as all hell, but it probably all checks out. The three of ‘em were on a shopping spree in the afternoon. Not that they did much shopping. If you want some cash receipts to back it up, they probably don’t have ‘em. What they were doin’ was touring shopping malls. Browsing here, browsing there. Bloomingdale’s, Conran’s, places like that. I don’t think they bought a thing. Frankly, I don’t think they got much money. But they spent the afternoon doing it. Then they caught dinner at one of the mall shops, and went to the movies.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. Why?”
“Don’t tell me they saw a film called
“Christ, no. Not their cup of tea. They saw
“Oh.”
“Yeah. There’s a big RKO Tenplex on Route 4, that’s where they went. Went there, got home about ten- thirty.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Murder could have been as much as an hour later. What did they do till then?”
“Puttered around the house and went to bed. Why?”
“Well, Jeremy Dawson says he came home and found Claire Chesterton watching TV.”
