The Anonymous Client

just heard.
    “How many bills?” Dirkson said.
    “Ten.”
    “And you traced the bills and located the bank from which they had been withdrawn?”
    “That’s right. The bills had been withdrawn from the First National Bank on Monday morning. The withdrawal was unusual enough that the teller took the precaution of writing down the numbers.”
    “And you learned the identity of the person who made the withdrawal?”
    “Yes,” Taylor said, looking at the floor.
    “Who was it?”
    “David C. Bradshaw.”
    “Well, now, isn’t that interesting. Do you by any chance still happen to have that list of numbers?”
    “No.”
    “What did you do with it?”
    “I gave it back to Steve Winslow.”
    “Is that so? And just when did you give it back to Mr. Winslow?”
    “This evening.”
    “This evening? And how did you come to give it back to him this evening.”
    “Well, Steve called me, and—”
    “What time?”
    “Around ten-thirty.”
    “And asked you about the list?”
    “Well, he asked me to meet him for dinner.”
    “And did he ask you specifically to bring the list with you?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you met him for dinner and gave him the list?”
    “Yes.”
    “And that was just before you came here?”
    “That’s right.”
    “So, to the best of your knowledge, Winslow still has the list on him?”
    Taylor hesitated. “Well?”
    “Yes, I guess so.”
    “That’s purely a conclusion on his part,” Steve said.
    “You keep out of this,” Dirkson said. “I’ll get to you in a minute. All right, Taylor. Let’s go back a little. What did you do after you traced the money to Bradshaw?”
    “I placed Bradshaw’s apartment under surveillance.”
    “Why?”
    “I wanted to find out all I could about Bradshaw. I hadn’t had much success with the normal routine lines of inquiry.”
    “What had you found out?”
    “Not much. I learned he rented his apartment two months ago, that he paid his rent in cash, but that no one seemed to know where he came from or what he did for a living.”
    “So you put his apartment under surveillance?”
    “That’s right.”
    “And you did this purely of your own initiative?”
    “Well, not exactly.”
    “Were you specifically instructed to put his apartment under surveillance?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who instructed you to do so?”
    “Steve Winslow.”
    “Ah. So Steve Winslow instructed you to put Bradshaw’s apartment under surveillance?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did he tell you why he wanted this done?”
    “He wanted to get a line on Bradshaw.”
    “I could have assumed that. Why did he want to get a line on Bradshaw?”
    “Because Bradshaw was the person who withdrew the ten thousand dollars.”
    “And why was he interested in the person who withdrew the ten thousand dollars?”
    “I don’t know,” Taylor said, choosing his words carefully. “I presume it was because he was retained in the matter.”
    Dirkson pounced on that. “He told you he was retained by a client?”
    “Yes.”
    “Who was the client?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Winslow didn’t tell you the name of the client?”
    “No.”
    “You expect me to believe Winslow instructed you to trace the list of bills, and to put Bradshaw’s apartment under surveillance, and yet he never once mentioned the name of his client?”
    “That’s right.”
    Dirkson frowned. “Mr. Taylor, I’d like to remind you that this is a murder investigation. Now, you’re not under oath, so there is no question of perjury here. However, I am asking these questions in my official capacity as District Attorney, and a stenographer is taking down your answers. If those answers should be incorrect in any way, you would be in a position of obstructing justice, compounding a felony, and conspiring to conceal a crime.”
    “Oh, bullshit,” Steve said. “Come on, Dirkson, we know the law for Christ’s sake. You don’t have to threaten us. Just ask your questions. The guy’s telling the truth.”
    Dirkson wheeled around to confront Steve, about to start an argument. He glanced at the stenographer and thought better of it. He turned back to Taylor.
    “All right, we’ll let that pass. At any rate, you put Bradshaw’s apartment under surveillance on Tuesday afternoon?”
    “Yes.”
    “How many operatives?”
    “Four.”
    “Four? Wasn’t that a bit excessive?”
    Steve grinned. “I hope the stenographer got that Mark. He asked you that in front of a cash customer. You may have cause of action.”
    Dirkson