by Parnell Hall
“When David Castleton gets off work, he goes to his grandpa’s, where he and Danby program him for the evening and send him out to meet the girl.”
“Fine, I see all that,” Taylor said. “What’s the point?”
“The point is, if what I just said is the situation, that accounts for the cops getting a line on the bartender. Castleton told his story, which included his grandson going to the singles bar to meet the girl.”
“Right.”
“But it doesn’t explain how the cops got a line on her. Castleton knew her only as Kelly Blaine, didn’t have her name, didn’t have her address.”
“As far as you know.”
“Yeah, but it stands to reason. If Castleton knew how to contact the girl, he wouldn’t have to go through the charade with the grandson.”
“Yeah, but you’re talking about when he talked to the cops.”
“So?”
“So, maybe he knew then.”
“How?”
“From his grandson. His grandson meets the girl last night, learns her name and address. Assuming she didn’t kill him—and that’s a big if—after she leaves he calls grandpa and gives him the dope.”
“But she didn’t tell him.”
“So she says. She’s said a lot of things. Some of them are not noted for being true.”
“I like that theory.”
“Why?”
“It leaves David Castleton alive after she left.”
“Yeah, well don’t go on my say-so. The way I see it, it works as well if she excused herself to use the bathroom and David picks up the phone and says, ‘Got it, Grandpa, her name’s Kelly Wilder and here’s the address.’”
“Then she comes out of the bathroom and plugs him with a thirty-two?”
“Why not?”
Steve thought a moment. “One thing against it.”
“What is that?”
“As far as you know, the cops haven’t put together the fact her brother is Herbert Clay, right?”
“If they have, I haven’t got it.”
“Then they probably haven’t. Because that’s the type of fact they wouldn’t sit on. It don’t hurt Castleton none, and it’s front page news. Now David didn’t know Herbert Clay was her brother, but he knew that was what she was after.
“But apparently Castleton didn’t. Or the name Herbert Clay would have come up. And once it did, it wouldn’t take the police long to make the connection. If they haven’t, it means it didn’t.”
Taylor shook his head. “Again, you’re going by what the girl told you. I don’t think you can take any of it at face value.”
“Maybe not, but the point is, we still got a big, unanswered question—how did the cops get a line on the girl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Great. So what else have you got?”
“That’s it. But I got stuff coming in all the time. Can I get back to my office now?”
“Won’t they ring you here?”
“Not if it’s routine. They’re just collecting data. They won’t call down unless it’s something hot.”
The phone rang.
Steve looked at Taylor. Grinned. “A movie moment. Wanna bet that’s for you?” He turned to Tracy, who had scooped the phone. “Is it for him?”
“You called it,” Tracy said. She passed over the receiver.
Taylor took it, listened for some time, said, “Okay, thanks,” and hung up the phone.
“Well,” Steve said.
“A major kick in the chops, Steve. Your client’s the biggest liar in seventeen counties. No real surprise there. But I got the answer to your question—how did the cops get a line on the girl? She told you she didn’t give him her address, right? Well, she did. He had it written down on a piece of paper in his pants pocket.”
“You’re kidding.”
Taylor shook his head. “Not at all. And that’s the least of it. I’m begging you. Steve. Bail out of this, let me go to the cops and give ’em everything I know.”
“I can’t do it, Mark. I took the case. Sink or swim, I’m in it now.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. Well, tell me how you’re gonna deal with this. The cops traced the gun.”
“And?”
“Speculation was with the gun left there, it’d be a cold piece— either stolen, unlicensed, unregistered, impossible to trace, or it would turn out to belong to David Castleton himself.”
“And it didn’t?”
“Hell, no. I don’t know if the cops have put it together yet, but they’re bound to, and when they do, you’re sunk. For your information, the murder weapon was duly licensed and registered to one Herbert Clay.”
20.
“IT ISN’T TRUE.”
Steve Winslow frowned at Kelly Wilder through the wire mesh screen. “What isn’t true?”
“Any of it. It’s not true.”
“So you say.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“We have a small problem here. The cops have evidence. You don’t have anything.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“That would be a refreshing change.”
“Damn it, I—”
“Hold on,” Steve said. “The facts are the facts. The cops found your address in David Castleton’s pocket.”
“I didn’t give it to him.”
“Then where did he get it?”
“How the hell should I know?”
Steve took a breath. “Look. We got a problem here. Every time you tell me something it turns out not to be true. Your first story, you admit, was a lie. Now you’re in a jam, you tell another story. When I start checking it out, all I get are contradictions.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“It’s not mine either. But guess what? I’m not in jail charged with murder. You are. If you wanna get out, you gotta help me.”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Fine. Then how did David Castleton get your address? And don’t say how the hell should I know. We’re trying to think this out together. ’Cause if we can’t, you’re sunk. So give me some help here. How could he have got your address?”
Kelly looked at him. Blinked. She took a breath. Blinked again. Her face contorted and her eyes filled with tears. “Damn it,” she said. “You think I don’t want to help you? I don’t know. The simple fact is, I don’t know. This is like a nightmare. Things keep happening to me and they don’t make any sense. You want me to make sense out of them, well how the hell can I?”
She took a breath, rubbed her eyes and looked straight at Steve. “I didn’t give David Castleton my address. That’s the bottom line. You wanna figure out how he got it, well, you help me figure it out, because my brain is Jell-O.”
“Okay,” Steve said. “When you were up in his apartment. Did you have a purse?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did you have your wallet in it? With your real identification? Your name and address and all that?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Fine. Now is there any time he could have looked in your purse? Like maybe you went to the bathroom, left your purse on the desk next to the computer.”
Kelly thought, shook her head. “No. I remember. I went in the bathroom once, but I took my purse with me.”
“That’s the only time? Maybe you went in the kitchen for a moment?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“How about in the restaurant?”
“What?”
“During dinner. Did you maybe go to the ladies’ room, or the telephone or something, leave your purse at the table?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“That’s no help.”
“I can’t help that. It’s the truth. You want me to say I did if I didn’t?”
“No.”
She looked at him closely. “Some attorneys do that, don’t they? They look at the facts of the case and then tell th
eir clients what they have to say to account for them. Is that what you want me to do?”
“No, it isn’t. And we’re not talking about what story you’re gonna tell. We’re talking about what actually happened.
“And get this. I’m not going to put you on the stand and have you tell a lie. If that’s the kind of defense you want, get another lawyer.”
Kelly frowned. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t argue to the jury that David Castleton must have learned my address some other way?”
“Of course not,” Steve said. “I don’t care what you’re telling me now. I’ll go in front of a jury and argue that David Castleton must have looked in your purse during dinner while you were in the bathroom. I’ll do everything I can to raise the inference that that must have happened. I got no problem there.”
He pointed his finger at her. “What I won’t do is put you on the stand and have you swear to it.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Big difference. One way I’m making a perfectly legitimate legal argument. The other way I’m suborning perjury on the one hand and laying my client wide open to be ripped apart and caught in a lie on cross-examination on the other.”
Kelly frowned. “I see.”
“But that’s not your concern,” Steve said. “Never mind the legal ramifications. That’s my job. We’re not in court now, it’s just between you and me and we wanna know what the hell happened. Now, you say the idea he got a peek in your purse is out. Fine. But I still want you to think about it, see if there’s any way that could have happened. But for the time being, say it didn’t. All right then, what about the phone calls?”
“Phone calls?”
“Yeah. When you called him, set this meeting up—any chance those calls could have been traced?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. I called from pay phones.”
“Oh?”
“I was afraid the calls would be traced. I wasn’t taking any chances. I called from pay phones on the street, and never the same ones.”
“And how long were you on the line?”
“What’s the difference? Even if they traced the call, they couldn’t get to where I was.”
“Maybe not, but even so. How long were you on the line?”
“Five minutes tops.”
“Long enough to trace the call.”
“But not to get there. If I’d used the same phone, sure. They trace the call and stake someone out there for when I call again. But I didn’t do that. The phones weren’t even near each other. There’s no way that could have happened.”
Steve sighed. “Great. Nice work. You understand it would be better for us if it could?”
“Yeah, but it’s you and me talkin’ here. And you don’t want some nice theory, you want the facts. Well, those are the facts.”
“Great,” Steve said. “And then we have the little matter of the gun.”
“I can’t understand that.”
“You and me both. How did David Castleton come to get shot with your brother’s gun?”
“I have no idea.”
“What a surprise.”
Kelly opened her mouth to say something. Steve held up his hand. “Look, let’s not go through the same bullshit over this. The fact is, he was. The cops are gonna say you pulled the trigger. Now, how would you have had access to Herbert’s gun?”
“I didn’t.”
“Fine. I know that. But the cops are gonna claim you did. Now, how are they gonna base that claim?”
“They can’t.”
“Did you ever see the gun?”
“Of course not. I didn’t even know he had one.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“You never saw it?”
“No. I told you that.”
“Okay. After you came to New York and you went to see Herbert ...”
“Yes?”
“Did you go to his apartment?”
Her eyes faltered. “Oh.”
“Shit.”
“Well, how was I to know?” she said indignantly.
“You weren’t. But here we are. I take it you went there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s a two-bedroom apartment. Herb was sharing it with this other guy. When Herb went to jail, of course he stopped paying rent. His roommate was pissed off, didn’t want to go it alone, wanted to rent the room. Anyway, the guy was putting all of Herbert’s stuff in storage.”
“So?”
“So I packed for him.”
“Oh, hell.”
“It was the least I could do. Sort through things, make sure nothing got left behind.”
“The roommate knows this?”
“Of course. He was there when I did it.”
“He didn’t watch you all the time, did he?”
“No. Why should he?”
“But he can swear you went through every inch of your brother’s stuff. Which is all the cops will need to convince the jury you would have found the gun.”
“But I didn’t. It wasn’t there. If it was, it was in some box I didn’t open.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if the gun was packed away in storage, it wouldn’t have killed David Castleton. No, there’s only two theories. Either the gun was there and you found it, or it was already gone.”
“It was already gone.”
“So you say. Who would have taken it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Herb’s roommate?”
“What about him?”
“He could have taken the gun.”
“Why would he?”
“I don’t know. But he had access to the gun. That makes him as good a suspect as any.”
“But killing David Castleton—why the hell would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Who is he, anyway?”
“Some guy. I don’t even know his name.”
“He work for Castleton Industries?”
“I don’t think so. In fact, no. He’s an actor.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I remember now. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like him because Herb told me he was an actor. My husband was an actor and he was a schmuck, and when I heard he was an actor I immediately didn’t like him.”
“Was he a schmuck?”
“Who?”
“The roommate.”
Kelly shrugged. “He was a nice enough guy. But he was an actor and he was throwing Herb out, so why should I like him?”
“I see,” Steve said. He sighed and got up.
“You going?”
“Yeah. It’s real nice talking to you and all that, but the problem is you don’t know anything.” Steve shrugged. “Looks like I’m gonna have to have a talk with your brother.”
21.
“SHE DIDN’T DO IT.”
Steve Winslow frowned. He looked through the plexiglass at Herbert Clay, who was sitting opposite him, holding the other telephone. He remembered what Kelly said—dead, defeated. Yeah, that was Herbert Clay all right. But in Steve’s mind it wasn’t just prison. There was something about Herbert Clay that wasn’t quite right. Steve couldn’t put his finger on it. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly. He didn’t look bright, but he didn’t look dull either. He just looked a little off. An inept con man. A sharpie not quite sharp enough to make it.
A loser.
That’s what it was.
Your basic loser.
“Oh yeah?” Steve said. He chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know what it is with your family, but that’s what they all say.”
“Huh?”
“She says you’re innocent. You say she’s innocent. Big deal.”
“But she is. Kelly wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Well that’s reassuring. Great. You’ve made my day.”
Clay frowned. “Hey.
What’s with the sarcasm?”
“This may surprise you, but I don’t exactly need you as a character witness.”
“Character witness?”
“Yeah.” Steve gestured around an imaginary courtroom. “And now, Your Honor, I’d like to call Herbert Clay, a convicted embezzler, to testify that in his opinion the defendant, his sister, did not commit the crime.” Steve widened his eyes in mock surprise. “You have that, Mr. Winslow? Why didn’t you say so? Case dismissed.” Steve looked back at Herbert Clay. “See what I mean?”
Clay scowled. “Hey, what the fuck you doin’, man. Whose side you on?”
“I’m on your sister’s side. I’m trying to help her. If you want to help her, you’ll come down to earth and answer my questions. I’ve been talking to you five minutes now, all I hear is what a great girl she is and how she wouldn’t do it. Big deal. Tell me something I want to know.”
Clay’s eyes hardened. “Son of a bitch.” He held up his finger. “Look. I want to help Kelly, but I don’t have to take this shit. A convicted embezzler. Just for your information, I didn’t do it. Maybe that’s what they all say, but in my case it happens to be true. I didn’t do it.”
“Maybe not, but if you weren’t dipping into the till and playing the ponies you wouldn’t have taken the fall. Now I’m not your lawyer. I’m Kelly’s. You want to help her or not?”
Clay glared at him a few moments, then dropped his eyes. “Yeah. Go on.”
“Tell me about the gun.”
Clay shook his head. “I can’t understand that.”
“That makes two of us. Tell me, how did David Castleton get killed with your gun?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well the cops have. Your sister took it and killed him with it. How’s that sound to you?”
“That’s ridiculous. Kelly—”
“—wouldn’t do such a thing,” Steve finished for him. “Right. So who would?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s figure it out. Tell me about the gun.”
“What about it?”
“What do you think? Why did you have a gun, what were you doing with it, where did you keep it, who had access to it, who could have taken it?”