The Anonymous Client

If I didn’t tell you, and your client was convicted, I couldn’t live with myself.”
    “All right, Mark, you understand the situation. You got the information. You wanna shoot, shoot.”
    “O.K.,” Mark said. “Pauline Keeling.”
    Steve stared at him. “Who?”
    “Pauline Keeling,” Mark said. “She’s the best kept secret in this whole case. Well, Pauline Keeling happens to be—or perhaps I should say, claims to be—Bradshaw’s common-law wife.”
    “What?”
    “That’s right.”
    “How’d the cops find her?”
    “They didn’t. She went to them.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “No. Here’s how I got the story. After the murder, after Marilyn had been arrested and charged, a woman named Pauline Keeling shows up at headquarters claiming to be Bradshaw’s common-law wife. She read there was money found on the body. She wants the money. She claims she was his common-law wife, and if Bradshaw left no will, the money should go to her.”
    Steve was excited. “When did she show up? How long has she been in town? Has she been to his apartment?”
    “That’s the whole thing,” Mark said. “The way I got it, she hit town two weeks before the murder. She didn’t move in with Bradshaw, she was living somewhere else. Naturally, that weakens her claim. But as I understand it, she had called on Bradshaw at his apartment.”
    “Then her fingerprints would be there.”
    Taylor nodded gloomily. “Yeah.”
    “And might even be the unidentified ones currently on display in court.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Jesus Christ. Where is she now?”
    “Same place she’s been staying since she hit town. In a furnished room in Queens. Astoria.”
    “She under police guard?”
    “Not that I know.”
    “Got the address?”
    “Yeah.” Taylor sighed. “Look, Steve, that’s everything I know. How are you gonna play it?”
    Steve gave him a look. “How do you think I’m going to play it, Mark?”
    Steve pressed the intercom. “Tracy.”
    Tracy’s voice showed she was still angry about being excluded from the interview. “Yes.”
    “Grab your steno pad and get in here.” Steve looked at Mark, then back to the intercom. “We’re going to make out a subpoena.”

41.
    I T WAS A SECOND FLOOR walk-up on Astoria Boulevard. The foyer door was open. Steve stopped Mark Taylor on the stairs.
    “Now look. We don’t say we’re cops. We just walk in and start talking.”
    “You don’t look like a cop,” Taylor said.
    “How would she know? I’m an undercover detective, for Christ’s sake. If we can make her think we’re cops, that’s fine. Otherwise, we just play it the best we can.”
    “Right.”
    “Keep the subpoena in your pocket. Don’t show it. Don’t serve it until I give the signal.”
    “Right.”
    “You go first. You’re big and beefy, you look more like a cop.”
    “Thanks a lot. What should I say?”
    “I don’t know. We’re here to talk to her about the trial. Just wing it.”
    “Great.”
    They went up the stairs, found the door, and knocked. There was the sound of footsteps and then a woman opened the door. She had dark, teased hair. She was about forty, but had sought to disguise the fact by the use of too much makeup. The end result, Steve thought, was to make her look closer to fifty.
    “Yes?” she said.
    “Miss Keeling,” Taylor said. “We’re sorry to disturb you, but it’s about the trial.”
    Pauline Keeling frowned. “What about it?”
    Steve pushed forward. “That’s just it. We want to keep you out of it if that’s at all possible. It may not be possible.”
    The woman’s face fell. “But ... but the District Attorney said—”
    “Yeah, I know what he said. Look, we shouldn’t be discussing this in the hall.”
    “Oh. Yes. I’m sorry. Won’t you come in?”
    Mark Taylor and Steve Winslow stepped into a small, poorly furnished room, which appeared to have no kitchen facilities. All in all, Steve figured, it must be a depressing place to live.
    Pauline Keeling looked around helplessly, feeling impelled to ask her visitors to sit down, but not knowing where to suggest.
    “Well, what’s this all about?” she said.
    Mark looked at Steve to take the initiative.
    He did. “I’m sorry, Miss Keeling, but we have to go over your story one more time. I know Mr. Dirkson doesn’t want you to appear in court, but it may be unavoidable. What it boils down to is, can you answer our questions well enough here, or do we have to put you on the