The Anonymous Client

to prove that Bradshaw wasn’t blackmailing her over the murder of her father—as the police actually figured—but over something else.
    “But that didn’t happen, because something better did—from Phyllis’s point of view, anyway. Bradshaw got killed, and Marilyn got the blame. It was beautiful. She didn’t have to do anything. Just sit back and let nature take its course. Which would have happened if we hadn’t got lucky.”
    There was a knock on the door. Tracy got up and opened it. Fitzpatrick came in, grinning from ear to ear and carrying a bottle of champagne and a folded newspaper.
    “So,” he said. “Beer. I might have known. Suppose it would hurt your amateur standing to join me in some champagne?”
    “Well, Fitzpatrick,” Steve said. “You’re feeling a little better, I see.”
    “I’ll say. You seen the paper? The Daily News got out an extra.”
    Fitzpatrick flipped the paper open and held it up. The headline read: “ COURTROOM CONFESSION: LAWYER TRAPS WITNESS .”
    “And not a quote from you in it,” Fitzpatrick said. “It’s all, ‘Fitzpatrick, speaking for the defense team, stated ....’ I tell you, I never saw an attorney leave court so fast after a trial. What’s the matter, you camera shy?”
    “I’ve never been much good with the press,” Steve said. “I figured public relations was a little more in your line. So what did you tell ’em?”
    “Whatever they wanted to hear. Of course, I didn’t know the answers, so I made ’em up. I figured it didn’t matter, right?”
    “Right. What did they ask you?”
    “Did you really compare Margaret Millburn’s fingerprints, or was that just a trick? I told ’em, hell no, you were bluffing. You were, weren’t you?”
    “Yeah. What else?”
    “Did you have any hard evidence that Bradshaw and Millburn were partners? Was he really playing around with another woman? I told ’em, hell no, it was all bullshit off the top of your head.”
    “They like that answer?”
    “They ate it up.” Fitzpatrick chuckled. “Christ, I feel good. This morning I didn’t want to talk to anybody, I just wanted to disappear. This afternoon I’m ready to have Odd Couple t-shirts made up and wear ’em to the office. I mean, what a relief.”
    “That’s fine,” Steve said. “But we’ve still got the murder of Phillip Harding to contend with if they decide to push the charge.”
    Fitzpatrick shook his head. “Not anymore.”
    “What?”
    “You ran out so fast you missed all the action. Phyllis Kemper broke. I don’t mean she admitted anything. She just cracked up. Snapped. Went off the deep end. Right after you left. They’re taking Margaret Millburn into custody and releasing Marilyn Harding. And Phyllis Kemper stands up and says, ‘No, no, you can’t do that! She didn’t do it! She didn’t kill him! Marilyn did it! Marilyn’s the one! Marilyn! Marilyn!’ Then she gets louder and louder and more and more hysterical, screaming and crying about how it was Marilyn and how it wasn’t fair.”
    Fitzpatrick shrugged. “Now it’s not an admission, it’s not a confession, it’s not really anything. It certainly doesn’t prove Phyllis killed Phillip Harding. But after all that, and after what you told Dirkson, there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell they’re gonna prosecute Marilyn on the charge.”
    “That might well be, Fitzpatrick, but it still might be a good idea to get Marilyn to give you a substantial retainer to defend her in the event the situation should arise.”
    “Me?” Fitzpatrick said. “What about you?”
    “She’s your client now,” Steve said. “As far as I’m concerned, my services to Marilyn Harding are finished. Now, I’ll settle up with Douglas Kemper myself. But you might tell Marilyn my fee for my services to her is a hundred thousand dollars. In case she thinks that’s excessive, you might explain to her why it’s actually dirt cheap.”
    “I’m sure there’ll be no problem,” Fitzpatrick said. “But why are you cutting yourself off now? You suggested I get a provisional retainer. I’m sure you could get one too.”
    “I don’t want it.”
    Fitzpatrick frowned. “Why?”
    Steve sighed. “Because life isn’t a storybook and you don’t get happy endings. Oh you try. I mean, you’re in here with your champagne, and you’re so happy because we got our clients off. Well, I’m happy too. They didn’t do it, so they should have got off, and everyone likes to win. But happy