“Yeah, he did.”
“Told her Jack Walsh was dead?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“Didn’t faze her. Other than the normal shock one would expect at hearing someone was murdered, she couldn’t have cared less.”
“What about the will?”
“There’s no will.”
“You sure?”
“Not unless she’s lying-and there’s no reason why she should. Look, here’s what happened. I called my man, told him to go back up there and give her the news. So he does. She comes to the door. When she sees it’s him again, she tries to brush him off-it’s a bad time, her boyfriend’s in the shower, they’re taking a trip, she’s packing up to go, come back some other time.
“Well, my man’s a pro, he won’t brush. He hits her with the fact that Walsh is dead. That shook her up, but not the way you think. It’s just she don’t want her boyfriend coming out of the shower and hearing this. She’s not going to let my man in, but he’s not leaving, so to get him out of there she goes out and has a cup of coffee with him. So they go out to a little coffee shop and shoot the shit.”
“And?”
Taylor shook his head. “And it’s a dead end. Jack Walsh is nothing to her. She’s sorry he’s dead, but she still don’t like him. There’s no will, he never promised her any money, she doesn’t expect any money, she’s not going to claim any money. She’s got a new career and a new boyfriend, she doesn’t want the scandal. She’s been working herself ragged, now she’s on vacation, she and her boyfriend are taking a trip together, and if my man does anything to queer it, she’ll rip his fucking eyes out.”
Steve frowned. “Did he believe her?”
Taylor looked at him. “What’s not to believe. Everything she says makes sense. If there isn’t a will and she’s got no claims on the money, why would she jeopardize everything she’s got to rush back to New York to kill a man she knew a year ago, just because she feels he let her down by not sticking up for her when his relatives ganged up on her? I mean, pardon me, but could you explain that theory to me so that it makes any sense?”
“No, I couldn’t. But it doesn’t have to make sense. We’re collecting information, Mark. When we get it all collected, then we see what we can do about it. Now, that doesn’t add up, but there’s one thing about it I like.”
“What’s that?”
“She’s packin’ to leave. Flight is an indication of guilt. Always has been, always will be.” Steve thought a moment. “Slap a subpoena on her.”
Taylor stared at him. “What?”
“If she’s taking off, I don’t want her getting away. Call up your man, we’ll get a subpoena served.”
Taylor looked at him. “Steve, don’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not. There’s nothing Harry Dirkson would love better than to get you for abuse of process. You subpoena this woman with no definite purpose in mind, he’ll nail you to the wall.”
“He can try.”
“He can do more than that. You got no grounds for a subpoena. You just want to drag this woman in and make her a red herring. Which is exactly what abuse of process is all about. Dirkson will have you dead to rights.”
Steve sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“You know I’m right. So what you wanna do?”
Steve frowned and shook his head. “I gotta fight for my client, Mark.” He took a breath and blew it out again. “Serve the subpoena.”
28
Tracy Garvin was pissed. She sat in Steve Winslow’s overstuffed clients’ chair, folded her glasses, tapped them into her other hand, unfolded them, and folded them up again, a sure sign that she was really steamed.
Steve Winslow took no notice. He had just finished giving Tracy a complete rundown of the facts of the case as he knew them. Now, utterly exhausted, he was sitting tipped back in his desk chair, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his eyes staring blankly at some small imperfection in the ceiling. He closed his eyes, raised his arms and rubbed his head as if to clear it.
“All right,” he said. “Ask me questions.”
This was no idle exercise on Steve’s part. Tracy Garvin was sharp and he valued her input. In his previous case, she’d asked the key question, the one that turned the whole thing around. In this case, frankly, Steve didn’t know what the hell to do. So he was eager to hear what Tracy had to say.
“All right,” she said. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
That was not the question he’d been looking for. Steve Winslow’s eyes snapped open. He tipped his chair down, sat up to find Tracy Garvin glaring at him.
“I beg your pardon?”
Tracy Garvin took a breath. “I’m sorry, but … well, I don’t get it at all.”
“Get what?”
“You. This case. Well … dammit, you.”
“What about me?”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I get the impression you’re displeased.”
“Dammit, don’t humor me. I’m not in the mood.”
“Fine. I won’t humor you. Just tell me what’s the matter, and then let’s see what we can do about it.”
“What’s the matter? The matter is you. I thought I knew you. What you stood for. Now this case comes along, and I don’t know you at all.”
“Specifics.”
“What?”
“Specifics. I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you want me to respond to this, you’re gonna have to recite chapter and verse.”
Tracy took a breath. “Look. The Marilyn Harding thing. We worked together on that and it was great. You did things. You took risks. You didn’t like your clients much, but you fought like hell for ‘em, you went out on a limb for ‘em, and when you did-well, you were still on the side of the angels. I mean, what you were doing was somehow right.
“But this case.” Tracy shook her head. “Here you are defending a crack dealer who’s probably guilty as hell.”
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Tracy cut him off. “No, no, I know, I shouldn’t say that. He’s innocent until proven guilty, I just spoke heresy, I retract it. Let’s not go off on a tangent. I don’t want to hear you make a speech.”
Tracy held up her hand. “Here’s the thing. You’re defending this kid and you’re taking risks and doing unorthodox things again. But you’re not on the side of the angels anymore. You want chapter and verse, I’ll give you chapter and verse. This woman in California-this Julie Creston-you’re gonna subpoena her and drag her into court. Well then, you’re gonna get her name in the papers and probably fuck up her career. And what’s worse, you screw up her relationship with her boyfriend. And you know and I know she hasn’t got a goddam thing to do with this. She’s an innocent bystander. If anything, she’s a victim. She’s the one who got dumped on, chased out of New York. Now you wanna drag her back to dump on her some more. Dammit, it just isn’t right.”
Tracy stopped, pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry if that pisses you off. But that’s how I feel.”
Steve sighed. “I understand. I suppose I’d like to feel the same way. But I can’t. I can’t allow myself the
