SW06 - The Innocent Woman

by Parnell Hall

  “I don’t know. Seven thirty-five, seven-forty. Somewhere in there.”

  “You played the answering machine as soon as you got home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I could see it blinking when I came in the door.”

  “You went over and switched it on?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And there was a message from Fletcher?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did it say?”

  “What you said. To meet him at the office.”

  “I’d like the exact words.”

  “I don’t remember the exact words.”

  “Give it to me as close as you can. The cops have that tape. I’d like to know what they know.”

  “He said...Oh, gee...He said, ‘It’s Frank. We need to talk. I’m at the office, come on down.’”

  “Frank, is it?”

  “Yeah, Frank. What, he’s going to call himself Mr. Fletcher just because he had me fired?”

  “That’s all there was to the message?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “It sure is,” Steve said. “Jesus Christ, what a mess.”

  “It’s not my fault.”

  Steve cocked his head, looked at her. “Fault? What are you, in high school? I didn’t do the homework, but it’s not my fault? I got news for you. In a murder, no one gives a shit. They send you to jail, the fact it’s not your fault is gonna be small consolation.”

  “Stop it!”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sure,” Steve said. “I take it back. When you go to jail, you can tell everyone it’s my fault.”

  Amy stared at him. “How could you?”

  “Oh, it’s easy,” Steve said. “My job is to defend you on a murder rap. I spent twenty-four hours doing everything wrong because you held out on me. I got myself in bad, I got Tracy in bad, and I damn near convicted you. I took a chance on you, sending you home and letting you come back and find the body again, and it’s blown up in my face. And you know why? Because you lied to me to begin with. I’m way behind and playing catch up ball. So snap out of it and stop talking about what’s fair and whose fault it is and just answer the damn questions.”

  Amy stuck out her chin. “Fine,” she said. “What was the damn question?”

  “About Frank Fletcher’s message. I was trying to pin down exactly what he said.”

  “I’ve given it to you the best I can.”

  “All he said was he needed to talk, he was at the office and come on down?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did he say why he was at the office, how long he’d be there, anything of the kind? Perhaps the time he left the message?”

  “He didn’t say the time he left the message. I think he said he was working there tonight. Catching up on work, I think, is what he said.”

  “Uh huh,” Steve said. “Is that all there was to the message?”

  “Sure. What else would there be?”

  “I don’t know. But you just remembered one thing you hadn’t before. I’m wondering if you remember anything else.”

  “No, that’s all.”

  “Uh huh,” Steve said. “And you say you got this message around seven thirty-five, seven-forty, as soon as you got home?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You went right down to the office?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “What do you mean, pretty much?”

  Amy stuck out her chin again. “I think I went to the bathroom first. Is that all right with you?”

  “Fine,” Steve said. “I only care what time you went out the door.”

  “It was right away. Say a quarter to eight.”

  “You got the message, went to the bathroom and went out?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You didn’t call him first?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “What do you mean, why not? I just didn’t.”

  “Yes, but you have to have a reason.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a murder case.”

  Amy looked at him. “What the hell has that got to do with it?”

  “It’s got everything to do with it,” Steve said. “Don’t you understand? Every action you took is going to be scrutinized. Particularly in this case.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ve already lied to the police and they know it. Now your story—the one we’re going over now.”

  “It’s no story. It’s the truth.”

  “It damn well better be the truth. Now, I don’t know if anyone’s ever going to get to hear it, but if they do, it’s going to be the truth, the whole truth and nothing else but the truth, and it’s going to be a hundred percent airtight. Because if you do tell it, the D.A.’s going to pick through it with a fine tooth comb. So every single stinking detail is important. If he can trip you up on the brand of dental floss you used after dinner, you could go to jail. Do you understand me?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Now, why didn’t you phone Frank Fletcher before you went down?”

  “I don’t know. He said he’d be there. I knew he’d be there. I wanted to just walk in and see him. I didn’t want to give him a chance to work on me on the phone.”

  “Work on you? How?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him since I was fired. I had no idea what he’d say.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  “What question?”

  “How would he work on you?”

  “Oh, he had a way about him.”

  “Really? Did you two have a relationship?”

  She bristled. “That’s what you asked me the first time I was in your office.”

  “Yeah, and it didn’t matter that much then.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a relationship. We went out a few times.”

  “Shit.”

  “Why is it so important?”

  “I don’t know if it is. On the other hand, I don’t know if it isn’t. But it’s the type of thing the cops can dig up and make you look bad.”

  “How?”

  “They’ll smear you with it. Like it or not, there are some jury members who would just as soon convict you for going to bed with him as for killing him. So, anyway, you didn’t call?”

  “No.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went out, got a cab and went down.”

  Steve grimaced. “A cab?”

  “I was upset. I didn’t want to take the subway.”

  “Why were you upset?”

  “Because he called.”

  “Why would that upset you?”

  “I don’t know. It just did.”

  “There’s nothing about this message you’re not telling me?”

  “No, it was just the fact that he called.”

  “Anyway, you took a cab?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cab driver get a good look at you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How did you pay him?”

  “What do you mean, how did I pay him?”

  “I mean what size bill.”

  “A ten, I think.”

  “You think?”

  “No, it was a ten.”

  “What was the fare?”

  “Six something.”

  “Six what?”

  “I don’t remember. Yes, I do. It was six twenty-five.”

  “Then you must have got change.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How much?”

  “Let me see. I told him to keep seven-fifty.”

  “So you got two fifty back?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You tipped him a buck twenty-five?”

  “Yes.”

  “You remember him handing the two fifty back?”

  “Not really. I remember taking it, shoving it in my purse.”

  “But you don’t recall his face, him looking at y
ou when he handed you the money?”

  “No, I don’t. I really wasn’t paying attention.”

  “But you do remember taking the money and putting it in your purse?”

  “Yes.”

  “He didn’t hand you a receipt, did he?”

  Her eyes widened.

  Steve groaned. “Oh, don’t tell me.”

  She put up her hand. “No, no. He didn’t. I’m sure he didn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because you asked me to get a receipt. For the other taxi ride. I got it, put it in my purse. I’d have remembered if there was another receipt already there.”

  “So,” Steve said. “The receipt you got for the second ride—how much was that for?”

  “Six seventy-five.”

  “Oh yeah? Faster meter?”

  “Yeah, I guess. No, I remember now. The cab had the fifty cent surcharge—for after dark. That was the difference.”

  “Is that right?” Steve said.

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  Steve leaned back, cocked his head. “You recall last night in my office? I asked you about finding the body, you told me you took the subway down.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Oh yes you did,” Steve said. “I remember because I was particularly relieved.”

  “Maybe so, but I didn’t say that.”

  “Oh no? Don’t you remember how we talked about you walked from Seventh Avenue so you must have passed by the window of the music store?”

  Amy frowned.

  “Beginning to refresh your recollection?” Steve said sarcastically. “Or was that a lie too?”

  “It’s not a lie,” Amy said. “I walked from Seventh Avenue.”

  “Oh?”

  “Because 47th Street’s one-way west. I wasn’t going to have him go all the way around the block. So I paid him off at 47th and Seventh. And walked from Seventh Avenue, just like I said.”

  “So the only lie you told was about taking the subway.”

  “I never said I took the subway. I may have said I walked from Seventh Avenue, but I’m sure I never mentioned the subway.”

  “Fine,” Steve said. “The second cab you took—the one you got the receipt for—he let you out at 47th and Seventh too?”

  “No, of course not. You told me to give him the address and go right to the door.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, didn’t you? Wasn’t that the whole point?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “There you are.”

  “Did that cab have to take you around the block?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s why there was fifty cents more on the meter?”

  “Sure.”

  “What about the fifty cent surcharge?”

  “Huh?”

  “I thought the cab was more because there was a fifty cent surcharge for driving at night.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe it was.”

  “You can’t even keep your lies straight, can you?”

  “They’re not lies.”

  “Uh huh,” Steve said without enthusiasm. “Anyway, you paid off the cab and went inside. What time was that?”

  “Just about eight.”

  “You went in and used your key?”

  “I didn’t have to. The door was open.”

  “But you were going to use your key?”

  “Yes.”

  “The door was open and the lights were on?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You expected Frank Fletcher to be there?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I went in, looked around, listened.”

  “Surprised when you didn’t hear him?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Call his name?”

  “Sure.”

  “What did you do when you got no answer?”

  “I went over and looked at my desk. That’s when I saw the petty cash drawer was open.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I was scared. The place had been robbed, and Frank was gone. I looked around and found him.”

  “Right away?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Last night you said it was five or ten minutes.”

  She frowned. “Why do you keep doing that? Telling me what I said last night? I was upset. I’d had a huge shock. I’m telling this the best I can.”

  “No, you’re not,” Steve said. “You’re telling me what you think I want to hear. You’re such a liar you pick and choose what you want to say.”

  “I do not.”

  “Sure you do. I can even tell you why. Last night you weren’t letting on you got a call from Frank. You were telling the other lie—that you went to clean out your desk. There was no reason to be looking for him. So when I ask you what you did, you say you looked around a bit and eventually you went in his office and found him dead. So when I ask you how long it took, you say five or ten minutes. Of course, you can’t say what you were doing during that five or ten minutes, because they didn’t exist. The fact is, the minute you saw the petty cash drawer open, you said, Oh shit, Frank, and went in his office and found him dead. You just made up the five or ten minute bullshit because you weren’t admitting you knew Frank was there in the first place.”

  Amy said nothing, just glowered at him.

  “But that’s the way it’s gotta be,” Steve said. “At least the way you tell it now. You were on the phone with Tracy Garvin at eight o’clock. You’d already found the body by then. If you left your apartment at seven forty-five, took a taxi straight downtown, you ain’t got time to blow your nose. Five or ten minutes, hell. I don’t know where you found the time to get out and call her from a pay phone on the street.”

  Amy’s eyes faltered.

  “Oh, shit,” Steve said. “You called her from the office phone?”

  “What difference would that make?”

  “They’ll trace the fucking calls!” Steve exhaled, shook his head. “Jesus Christ, is it a compulsion with you to lie? We’re at the point, I can’t believe a single word you say.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Again with fair?” Steve said. “I don’t think it’s fair I’m in a position where I could get disbarred. But it’s getting to look damn likely. Look, do me a big favor. Stop trying to make your actions sound better. And stop trying to figure out what I’d like to hear. Just tell me what really happened.”

  “I’ve told you what really happened.”

  “You’ve given me three or four versions. What about the petty cash?”

  “What about it?”

  “Did you take it?”

  “No, I tell you, I found the drawer open and the money gone.”

  “Not last night,” Steve said. “I’m not talking about last night. I mean the trial. The famous petty cash trial. You happen to take any of that?”

  Amy glared at him defiantly. Then her eyes faltered.

  “Oh, whoopdedo,” Steve said. “I might have known. You care to tell me about it?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t take the money.”

  “Then why the guilty reaction?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I do. You’ve told so many lies, you can’t tell which story you’re on anymore.” Steve exhaled, shook his head. “Look, I’m tired of the small lies. Let’s go for the biggie. Tell me. Did you kill him?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Really?”

  “I swear I didn’t.”

  “Cross your heart and hope to die?”

  “Damn it—”

  Steve held up his hand. “When you looked at the body, what did you think?”

  That startled her. She blinked. “What?”

  “When you first found the body—what was your reaction?”

  “I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’d never seen a violent d
eath. I couldn’t believe he was really dead. Or, rather, I couldn’t believe someone had killed him.”

  “Ever fire a gun?”

  “No.”

  “Never in your life?”

  “Not that I remember?”

  “Your memory’s not that good. You happen to fire a gun in the last forty-eight hours?”

  “No.”

  “There’s a test called the paraffin test.”

  “I know. They gave it to me.”

  Steve looked at her. “What?”

  “Last night. They gave me the test.”

  “You let them do it?”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “Did they give you a choice?”

  “I don’t know. The cop came, asked me if I’d take the test.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I asked him what it was for. He explained it was to see if I’d fired a gun.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said maybe I’d better talk to my lawyer.”

  “Why didn’t you.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He explain the test to you?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “He tell you that if you fired a gun, there’d be traces of nitrate powder on your hands?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did he point out that if you were wearing gloves at the time, the test was worthless and wouldn’t show anything?”

  “I think he mentioned that.”

  “And it was after that that you decided that you didn’t need to call your lawyer and agreed to take the test?”

  “You make it sound so bad,” Amy said.

  “Oh yeah?” Steve said. “Just wait till you hear how Dirkson makes it sound. You ever own a gun?”

  “No.”

  “Ever have one in your possession?”

  “No.”

  “Did you take anything out of the office?”

  “Huh?”

  “You claim you didn’t touch the petty cash, right? Well, did you touch anything else? Was there anything else, however trivial, that you took from the office?”

  “No.”

  “Did you leave anything in the office?”

  “Like what?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “What about the body?”

  “What about it?”

  “Did you touch it?”

  “No.”

  “You went in the office, he’s lying on the floor dead. You didn’t bend down, touch him, make sure he was dead?”