The Innocent Woman

“Uh huh,” Dirkson said. “Tell me, did you recognize either of those two people?”

“It’s so hard to recognize someone from a description.”

“I’m sure it is. He described a woman and a man, did he not?”

“That’s right.”

“The woman came first?”

“Yes, she did.”

“And then the man?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you recall the description of the man?”

Tracy frowned. “It was more of an impression than a description. I think he said he looked like a hippie and his first thought was he was a customer for the shop. I’m afraid he didn’t see him that well.”

“Uh huh,” Dirkson said. He picked up the phone from his desk, said, “Is he here yet?” He listened a moment and said, “Bring him in.”

Minutes later the door opened and a cop ushered in Oliver Branstein.

“Are these the two you told me about?” Dirkson said.

Branstein looked back and forth from Tracy Garvin to Steve Winslow. “Yeah, that’s them.”

“They’re the ones who came and interviewed you tonight?”

“That’s right.”

“Asked you if you’d seen anyone going into the jewelers upstairs while you were working in your music store?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s no doubt in your mind that these are the ones?”

“None at all. That’s her, all right. In fact, she looks exactly the same. He’s dressed differently, but I still recognize him.”

“Dressed differently how?”

“Well, he’s sloppy and his hair’s uncombed. He looks like he just got out of bed. I suppose I look that way myself, because I just got out of bed. I don’t see what was so important you had to drag me down here this time of the morning. I mean, I already told you everything I know.”

“I’m very sorry about that,” Dirkson said. “But if you’d just bear with me a few minutes longer. You say Mr. Winslow was dressed differently when he called on you-could you tell me exactly how?”

“Well, he was wearing a jacket and tie and his hair was combed.” Branstein shrugged. “In fact, I had no idea his hair was long. He does look different now, but it was definitely him.” Branstein cocked his head and looked at Steve Winslow accusingly. “You didn’t tell me there’d been a murder.”

Dirkson held up his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Branstein, I think that will be all for the time being. Officer, if you’d take Mr. Branstein out. I’m sorry, Mr. Branstein, but you’re just going to have to hang in here a little longer.”

The cop led Branstein out. When the door closed behind them, Dirkson said, “Well, well, what an interesting situation.”

“It may be interesting to you,” Steve said, “but frankly I’ve heard it all before.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve bored you,” Dirkson said. “Perhaps we can liven things up later on. For the time being, do you have any comment on Branstein’s statement?”

“I think you might thank us for bringing it to your attention.”

“I was referring to the content of his statement.”

“I’m afraid the man’s not that observant. Too bad. Might have been helpful.”

“I don’t know. It still might,” Dirkson said. He yawned, stretched. “Well, I see no reason to hold Miss Garvin at the present time. That’s not to say I wouldn’t charge her later if it turns out she’s broken some law. But as you say, it’s late, we’re all tired, and I for one have work to do. So why don’t the two of you just run along.”

“You mean you’re letting them go?” Stams said.

“Oh, yes,” Dirkson said. “They’re free to go.”

But his smile was still smug.

24

“Still mad at me?” Tracy said, as they came out the front door.

Steve Winslow glanced over his shoulder, spotted cops hanging out by the entrance. “Let’s get away from here before we talk.”

They found an all night diner on Chambers Street, ordered coffee and took a booth in the back.

“So,” Steve said, “you went back there to leave your fingerprints?”

“Why not?” Tracy said. “You sent Amy back. I figured if it could work for her, it could work for me.”

“It may not work for her,” Steve said. “Dirkson’s already sold on the idea that was her second visit.”

“How come?”

“A small petty cash drawer problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was shut.”

“What?”

“Amy goes up there, calls the cops. They come, she tells Stams she went up there and found the office robbed and Fletcher dead. One small problem-she never looks at the desk, and somewhere between the time we were there and she came back, someone got into the office and shut the fucking drawer.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. Which brands her whole story false. In the worst possible way. There’s no chance that she is mistaken. She’s lying. Plain and simple.

“And it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. The only reason she would tell such a stupid, obvious lie is because she thinks it’s the truth. Which means when she saw the drawer it was open. Which means she was there at another time.”

“Good lord,” Tracy said. “When did you find this out?”

“When I talked to her in jail.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

“I was pissed at you. About Branstein.”

“Even so.”

“It never entered my mind,” Steve said. “When it occurred to me just now, I was surprised to realize you didn’t know.”

“Uh huh,” Tracy said. “So what’s the verdict? Did I make up some for the Branstein mess?”

Steve exhaled. “Look. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be hard on you. Yeah, this was a good move. Under the circumstances, probably the best you could do. The Branstein mess is a mess, and don’t think it’s over. It’s just beginning. Why do you think Dirkson wanted us out of there? So he could go to work on Branstein. The guy may not be much of a witness now, but what do you want to bet by the time he gets on the stand it turns out he can positively identify Amy Dearborn as the woman and me as the guy?”

“Which was the whole point of my calling on him,” Tracy said. “The guy saw a woman go in. He didn’t see her very well, and from his description it could have been Amy or it could have been me. He sat there looking me right in the face and didn’t bat an eye. We’re not sure if it was me, but still. But we know it was you. He didn’t recognize you either.”

“Yeah, because of the way I was dressed. Of course, he remembers the way I was dressed, and he just described it to Dirkson. Because it’s different from the way I’m usually dressed, it makes an impression. Dirkson’s got it already, and you can bet he’s working that angle now. He knows it was me. He knows it was you. He knows what we’ve done. The only real concern, is whether he can prove it. Right now, the chance of that is relatively slim.” Steve frowned. “Which is what bothers me.”

“Why does that bother you?”

“Because Dirkson’s smug. He’s the cat that ate the canary. He can’t prove I was the guy, but he acts like he