The Anonymous Client

Stams grinned. “And now, I think I’ll go take a look at the corpse.”
    “I take it I’m free to go?” Steve said.
    “Sure you are. Except before you do, you’re going back in the bedroom and be searched again. And this time I mean searched. Search him good, Frank, and I want a complete inventory of everything he’s got on him, no matter how trivial. I think he took something.”
    Stams started for the door.
    “The murderer must have been really smart,” Steve said. “I wonder how he knew.”
    Stams stopped in the doorway. “Knew what?”
    “That Farron was on vacation.”

12.
    S TEVE W INSLOW DROPPED A QUARTER in the pay phone on the corner and punched in the number.
    A feminine voice at the end of the line said, “Taylor Detective Agency.”
    “This is Steve Winslow. Get me Taylor.”
    “He just left for dinner. If it’s important, I might be able to catch him.”
    “Catch him.”
    There was no answer, but the rattle of the receiver and the clack of high heels told Steve the receptionist was doing her best. A minute later Mark Taylor’s voice came on the line.
    “Steve. Lucky you caught me. I was just going to dinner.”
    “Forget it. It’s soggy hamburger time. I need information and I need it fast. Did you hear the evening news about Harding?”
    “No, but my pipeline into police headquarters reported that they exhumed the body and found arsenic. I tried to call you but you’d left the office. But don’t worry. I got men working on it. It’s covered.”
    “Fine. Now you can cover something else. Our friend Bradshaw just became a corpse.”
    “What!”
    “That’s right. Someone stuck a large carving knife between his shoulder blades somewhere between five and six this evening.”
    “No shit!”
    “None. So pull your men off Harding and get on it.”
    “Jesus Christ. How the hell’d you find out?”
    “I heard the news on the radio about Harding. I went to see Bradshaw, walked in and found the body.”
    “You’re kidding. You mean you’re the one who called the cops?”
    “It’s worse than that. Someone else called the cops. They found me in the apartment.”
    “They what?”
    “That’s right. And here’s the kicker. Lieutenant Farron’s on vacation and Sergeant Stams is in charge.”
    “Oh shit.”
    “Yeah. Stams is ready to throw the book at me. He’s so pissed off about the Sheila Benton case I think he’d frame me if he thought he could get away with it. Anyway, he’s convinced some client called me, told me Bradshaw was dead, told me about some incriminating evidence in the apartment, and had me rush up there and pinch it just before the cops got there.”
    “Did you?”
    “Fuck you, Mark. The thing is, if it sounds that good to you, think how it sounds to Stams. As a result, the murder has paled into insignificance. Stams is out to get me for tampering with evidence, obstructing justice, and being an accessory after the fact.”
    “Has he got anything?”
    “No, he hasn’t. Just the fact that he found me in the apartment. But his theory’s so damn logical I’ll have a devil of a time disproving it.”
    “Shit.”
    “So, get everything you can on the murder. Some woman, probably the one in the apartment across the hall, heard something she didn’t like and called the cops. Get the dope on her, find out what she heard and what she knows. For the time being, forget the Harding thing and concentrate on Bradshaw. You won’t be able to call me, so I’ll call you.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “You don’t want to know that. But give me Marilyn Harding’s address, will you?”
    Taylor read out the address. Steve jotted it into his notebook.
    “O.K.,” Steve said. “I’ll call you back.”
    “Just one thing, Steve.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Who’s your client now?”
    “I don’t know. And I just got through telling Stams I couldn’t answer questions because I was protecting his interests.”
    Steve hung up the phone, stepped out in the street, and hailed a cab.

13.
    T RACY G ARVIN COULDN’T CONCENTRATE ON her book. And it wasn’t that bad a book, either. It was a murder mystery, of course, and it was actually pretty exciting. There’d just been a second murder, and everything pointed to the client, and the detective was withholding evidence, and if the police found out there’d be hell to pay, and ordinarily Tracy would have been really into it.
    But not tonight.
    Tracy was stretched out on her living room couch, her shoes off, her