done something she felt she should have done in the first place. Instead she sits there all night long, and I don’t hear of it until I get in this morning.”
“She still there?”
“Naw, she’s home now. She wouldn’t leave till I sent a man to relieve her. Even then, she put up a fight, saying the guy wouldn’t know the girl and she ought to be there to finger her for him.”
“How’d you settle that?”
“I sent Dan. He’d seen the girl, too, and she couldn’t argue with that.”
“You sure she’s still there?”
“Absolutely. Otherwise Dan would have called.”
“You know what apartment she’s in?”
“Yeah. Two-A.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s a brownstone. When the girl went in, a light came on on the second floor front. That’s Two-A.”
“That should knock out the theory of her calling on a friend.”
“Yeah, that’s what Dan said. But Marcie wasn’t taking any chances. Anyway, the name on the bell is K. Wilder. So at least the name Kelly might be right.”
“You check it out?”
“Just with information. Which doesn’t help much. They have a listing at that address, but it’s K. Wilder, too.”
Steve frowned. “Okay. Hold down the fort, Mark. Tracy and I will take a run out there.”
“Sure you don’t need another witness?” Taylor said. “I wouldn’t mind coming along.”
Steve grinned. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. And I’m sure your interest is strictly professional. But she doesn’t know you, and I don’t want to spook her.”
“Killjoy.”
“Come on, Tracy. Let’s go.”
They went out and hailed a cab. Once again, Steve had the cabbie let them off a block from the apartment. But this time it was for real. Steve didn’t like the situation at all, and he wasn’t taking any chances.
They’d been silent in the cab. As soon as it drove off, Tracy said, “How you gonna play it?”
“I don’t know. It depends on what she does. She’s gotta be surprised to see us.”
“That’s for sure.”
“So we take it slow and easy, see how she reacts. If possible, let her start explaining before we even ask her anything.”
“Think she will?”
“She should. She gave us a phony name and address. She’s gotta try to explain that away.”
“Oh yeah? Bet you another dinner the first thing she says is ‘How did you find me?’”
“No takers. Anyway, we sidestep that question and counter by asking her why she didn’t cash the check.”
“Gotcha.”
They turned the corner onto 88th Street.
Steve grabbed Tracy’s arm. “Son of a bitch!”
Halfway down the block there were two police cars with their lights flashing parked in front of a brownstone. While Steve and Tracy watched, a plainclothes cop came out followed by two uniformed cops leading a handcuffed Kelly Blaine.
14
“Shit’s hit the fan, Mark.”
“I know. Dan called in right after you left. Says the place is lousy with cops.”
“Yeah, and they got our girl. They just led her out in handcuffs.”
“Shit. So that’s why Dan called back.”
“Oh?”
“He’s on hold. I took your call first. Where you calling from?”
“Pay phone on the corner.”
“So is he. Must be the other end of the block. You wanna hook up with him?”
“Fuck, no. Get him out of there, call him in. Then get a line into headquarters and find out what the hell’s going on. It shouldn’t be hard. Whatever it is, it’s something big.”
“Gotcha.”
“Get a move on. We’ll be right there.”
Steve slammed the phone down, hopped out in the street and hailed a cab. He and Tracy got in and headed back to the office.
Tracy tried to talk on the way, but Steve cut her off with a meaningful look at the cabbie. They rode in silence, Tracy smoldering.
The switchboard operator at the Taylor Detective Agency looked particularly harried. There were calls flashing on hold, and she was talking on another. As they walked in, yet another line rang. She said, “Hold, please,” pushed the button, said, “Taylor Detective Agency, please hold,” pushed another button, jerked her thumb in the vague direction of Mark Taylor’s office, said, “Go on in,” pushed another button and said, “Yes, who is it?”
Steve and Tracy walked into the office to find Mark Taylor holding two phones. “Okay, get back to me,” he barked into one and slammed it down. Without missing a beat he shifted the other phone, said, “That’s a theory, I need a confirmation. Get it,” and slammed that one down too. He grabbed a paper cup of coffee from the desk, took a sip, swallowed, exhaled. “We are in deep shit.”
“What’s up, Mark?”
“David Castleton’s dead.”
“What?!”
Taylor grimaced, ran his hand over his head. “Cleaning lady showed up at David Castleton’s apartment nine o’clock this morning, let herself in with a key. Found him lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Shot once through the heart with a thirty-two-caliber automatic. Gun found lying next to the body.”
“Self-inflicted?”
Taylor shook his head. “Not a prayer. There was a pillow used to muffle the shot. Sofa cushion, actually. Suicides don’t do that. Suicides don’t give a shit who hears the shot. Besides, you usually shoot yourself in the head, not the heart.”
“Speak for yourself. When did it happen?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to find out. What’s it been, fifteen minutes since you called me? They arrested the girl, I got a line into headquarters, this is the result.”
The intercom buzzed. Taylor snatched up the phone, punched a button. “Yeah?” He listened a moment, then covered the mouthpiece and said, “Dan Fuller’s here. Wanna see him?”
“Yeah, but not yet. Have him wait.”
Taylor nodded, said into the phone, “Tell him to hang out till I want him. And no gossip.”
“No gossip?” Steve said.
“Which means don’t talk about the fucking case. Which is a big problem, which is what you and I gotta talk about right now.”
“Yeah, I know,” Steve said. “But let’s get the facts first. What about Marcie Keller?”
“What about her?”
“Where is she?”
“Most likely home asleep.”
“You didn’t call her?”
“In my spare time?” Taylor said sarcastically.
“Call her now. Get her in here.”
