“Right.”
“So I’m wondering what happened to the other two.”
“They went up to bed.”
“Is that confirmed?”
Taylor looked slightly exasperated. “Not in any way that will stand up in court. But can you imagine any one of the three of ‘em taking off at ten-thirty at night, getting to Jeremy’s school, securing the gun, getting into Manhattan, finding Jack Walsh and plugging him, and then setting the body on fire-well, just between you and me you’re gonna have a little trouble selling it to a jury.”
“I know, Mark. I don’t think it happened. I just want to be able to raise inferences.”
“Well, you’ll have a lot better time with the men.”
“What have you got on ‘em?”
“Nothing. That’s the beauty of it. Zero, zilch, nothing. I don’t know where they were, but I know where they weren’t. And they weren’t home.”
“Until when?”
“At least until 12:30. ’Cause that’s when Claire Chesterton turned off the Carson show and went to bed.”
“And they were all out?”
“All of ‘em.”
“Together?”
“There your guess is as good as mine. Problem is, what with this will contest thing they’re on the other side and won’t give us the time of day.
“So here’s what we got. The night before, the three guys were on guard duty at Jack Walsh’s hotel. Last man on was Carl Jenson, Walsh went down and ditched him in the subway. Last time we’ve seen Jenson, last time we saw Walsh. Now, we know Jenson arrived home sometime during the day. We know that only from what Jeremy Dawson told you. He got home in the afternoon, Jenson was there, bawled him out for skippin’ school. Jeremy went out again and Carl Jenson must have left sometime after that, ’cause he wasn’t there when the women got home. As to where he was, your guess is as good as mine, ’cause all he’ll tell my man is to go fuck himself.”
“Nice.”
“On the other men, I know even less. You’ll recall Jason Tindel had the first shift the night before. He staked out the Holiday Inn until three in the morning. After that, he presumably went home and got some sleep. So we assume he got up some time the next day and went out, but no one knows where, and he ain’t talkin’.
“Fred Grayson had the three A.M. till eight shift. Presumably he went home, slept the morning, and then went out too. Whether he went with Jason, we don’t know. What we do know is the two of them were gone all day long and neither of them got back before twelve-thirty at night.”
Steve thought a moment. “That could be good.”
“How so?”
“Well, let’s look at the facts. Jason and Fred had the night shift, staking out the hotel. They’ve gone home and they’ve gone to sleep. Carl Jenson’s on duty. The guys are home sleeping, the women have gone out. Jack Walsh takes off and loses Carl Jenson in the subway tunnel.”
“Right.”
“So what would naturally happen then?”
“Carl Jenson calls the others, tells them Jack Walsh got away.”
“Right,” Steve said. “And they organize a search party and go looking for him. And they’re gone all day and don’t get back that night.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So what if they find Jack Walsh and kill him?”
“With Jeremy Dawson’s gun?”
“Sure, which Jason Tindel found a week before when he dropped by the school to pick up something Jeremy left behind.”
Taylor frowned. “That’s mighty thin.”
“Reasonable doubt, Mark. That’s all I need.”
“Yeah, sure,” Taylor said without enthusiasm. He looked at his notes again. “And then we have Julie Creston.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I checked out her alibi ’cause you told me to do it. But quite frankly it was a bitch and a waste of time, and I feel bad about it ’cause I ran up a lot of expenses on it and-”
“I told you, forget the money. I just want results.”
“Well, you got ‘em, and they ain’t worth shit. Except you can cross Julie Creston off your list, which I think you could have done without going through the charade.”
Steve shook his head. “I wanted it done. Just give me what you got.”
“O.K.” Taylor referred to his notes. “Julie Creston finished filming February 24th. She caught a plane from Denver back to L.A. that night. Set down in L.A. ten-thirty P.M. Airline confirms ticket in her name was used. Now, I knew that wouldn’t satisfy you, you’d say she could have given her ticket to someone else, so I ran it down. Turns out Julie wasn’t the only one finished filming that day. There were four other actors working the same sequence who finished up at the same time. All of them took the flight back together. My man in L.A. hunted one of them down, and he confirms the fact Julie Creston did indeed take the plane back to L.A. that night.”
“That’s the 24th?”
“Right.”
“Two days before the murder.”
“Uh huh. Next confirmation, morning of the 25th, Julie Creston shows up for an audition for a Burger King commercial.”
Taylor looked at Steve. “Now, you’re not going to like what I’ve got next, ’cause you’ll say it isn’t conclusive, but it’s enough for me. The morning of the 26th, she has a luncheon appointment with her agent. Brunch, really. Eleven o’clock. Coffee and rolls. Anyway, the guy’s got an audition lined up for that afternoon and she cancels it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, but don’t read anything into it. I think it’s just what it seems. She tells her agent she’s worn out from the Denver shoot, the Burger King audition the day before went badly- she’s exhausted, she’s got bags under her eyes, she didn’t test well, she’s never going to get anything this way, she needs to take a short vacation, pull herself together.”
“And that’s the last you got?” Steve said.
“That’s the last time I can definitely place her up until the murder. But look what you got, Steve. She left her agent twelve o’clock, noon. That’s L.A. time, which makes it three P.M. here.”
“That leaves her eight hours,” Steve said.
“Right,” Taylor said dryly. “Eight hours to get to the airport, fly to New York, get to New Jersey, steal Jeremy Dawson’s gun out of his school locker, get back to Manhattan, buy a can of gasoline, find Jack Walsh on the subway, plug him and set the body on fire.”
“It could be done,” Steve said.
“Yeah, in a paperback thriller. And even then I don’t buy it. I read that and throw the fucking book across the room.”
Steve frowned. “Yeah, Mark. But there’s a difference between what works in black and white and what works in the minds of a jury. They don’t get a nice straight story. They’re sitting there listening to volumes of testimony. They gotta sift through it, piece it together. Anything that clouds the issue, doesn’t quite add up, has to be a victory for the defense.”
“Yeah,” Taylor said. “But Dirkson’s gonna summarize the testimony and make his argument. You think that sarcastic son of a bitch can’t take all that and make it sound like ridiculous bullshit?”
“I’m sure he can, Mark. You think I can’t take ridiculous bullshit and make it sound good?”
Taylor looked at him. “You mean you’re going after this?”
“I don’t know. What’s the rest of it? Your man make a pass at her?”
