The Anonymous Client

to you.”
    “Let me call in again. Maybe the reporter’s managed to turn up something.”
    “Do that. And while you’re at it, call information and see if Tracy Garvin’s number is listed.”
    “Her home number?”
    “Yeah.”
    “No problem. I got it.”
    Steve grinned. “Oh? Like that, eh?”
    Taylor chuckled, shook his head. “No. Not like that. When I got the news about the Harding autopsy, I called your office trying to catch you. You’d already left, but Tracy was still there. When I told her she got all excited. Said she’d stay there, keep the office open, wait for more reports.” Taylor stopped and looked at Steve. “I don’t know what your problem is with that girl, but in my book she’s quite something, you know?”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Steve said impatiently. “So?”
    “So, I knew you didn’t want her doing that, so I tried to talk her out of it. It took some doing. Finally, she agreed, but only after she gave me her home number and made me promise if anything broke I’d call her, so she could come back and reopen the office.” Taylor chuckled. “This case may be a big pain in the ass for us, but for her it’s like she won a trip to Disneyland.”
    “And you didn’t call?”
    “I forgot.”
    “She’s gonna be pissed. Well, call her now, tell her to hop in a cab, and come join us.”
    “Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Taylor said. “But I’m sure the only reason you’re doing it is so you can tell her what she knows.”
    Taylor pushed back his chair and went off to telephone. Steve sat and looked at the half-eaten steak in front of him. He’d missed dinner, but he wasn’t a bit hungry. Christ, what a fucking mess. All right, he had to admit he’d been bored. Tracy was quite right in complaining that nothing ever happened. But he’d liked that, at least at first. After a whole life of scratching out a living, first as an actor, then as a lawyer, it had been nice to sit back, not worry about the rent, and watch the monthly check from Sheila Benton roll in. Yeah, it was a little monotonous. And yeah, after three months of leisure he could have stood a case of some kind.
    But not this.
    Not two homicides, the cops on his case, and him not knowing who the fuck his client was.
    No, not this.
    Mark Taylor came back and sat down.
    “Well?”
    Taylor shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing,” he said. “Everything at the station is very hush-hush. Dirkson is closeted with someone, apparently either a witness or a suspect, but no one on the force seems to know who it is.”
    “Well, the officers who made the arrest know,” Steve said impatiently.
    “Sure, and Sergeant Stams knows too. But the officers who made the arrest are nowhere to be found. In fact, no one seems to know who the arresting officers are. Of course, Sergeant Stams is taking the credit. Stams is very much in evidence, and about as helpful as you would expect. He’s willing to pose for pictures, and he modestly admits that it was his investigative brilliance that cracked the case, but that’s about it.” Taylor sighed. “So I guess I’m stuck here for a while. You gonna finish that steak?”
    “No.”
    “Then pass it over. If I gotta sit here, I might as well eat.”
    Steve shoved his plate toward the center of the table, and Taylor speared the piece of meat.
    “So, what about Tracy?” Steve asked.
    Taylor shook his head. “I struck out there too.”
    Steve’s head snapped up. “What?”
    Taylor shrugged. “No answer. I let it ring ten times, just in case she was asleep.”
    “Oh shit!” Steve jumped to his feet. He whipped out his wallet, flung money on the table. “Let’s go!”
    “What?” Mark Taylor said, but Steve was already halfway to the door. Taylor lurched his 220 pounds into gear and followed.
    By the time Taylor caught up, Steve was out in the street trying to hail a cab.
    “Steve! What the hell’s going on?”
    “It’s Tracy, damn it! Where the hell’s a fucking cab?”
    “What?”
    “Stams set a trap. No wonder he’s so happy. He must figure I sent her back to get the evidence I ditched.”
    “What evidence? What are you talking about?”
    “Tracy said she’d be waiting for your call.”
    “So? Maybe she had a date.”
    “Not that girl. She wouldn’t have missed your call for the world.
    No, she heard it on the radio and went out there. Damn it, where the hell’s a cab?”
    “Steve. What the hell are you talking about?”
    “There’s one. Taxi!” Steve