The Anonymous Client

here.”
    “Yeah, but I still say why? I mean, look what happened. Marilyn Harding calls on Bradshaw. She leaves. Bradshaw leaves. He makes a phone call. He walks a block. He makes another phone call. Next thing you know, he’s ditched his shadows and he’s in your office demanding to know why you’re having him followed.”
    Steve Winslow sat up straight in his chair. “Son of a bitch!” he said. “Son of a fucking bitch! Mark!”
    “Yeah?”
    “The phone calls.”
    Mark Taylor looked at Steve in dismay. “Jesus, Steve, I can’t trace those calls. If I were the F.B.I., maybe, but you’re talking quarter calls from a public pay phone, and—”
    “No, no,” Steve said. “I don’t expect you to trace them. But you got your operative’s notes there? I want to know where the calls were from.”
    “From? They’re from pay phones. One was a pay phone on the corner, and one was in a drug store.”
    “Right,” Steve said. “Where?”
    “Hang on a minute. Let me dig it out,” Mark said. He went over to a cabinet, wrestled through some files, and pulled out a folder. “O.K., here we go. The first call was from a drug store on the corner of 3rd Street and Avenue C. The other call was from a pay phone on the corner of 3rd Street and Avenue B.”
    “Those are the corners on Bradshaw’s block, right?”
    “Right.”
    “O.K. Good. Tracy, got your steno pad?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Fine. We’re going to make a list.”
    “What’s up, Steve?” Mark said.
    “I’m not sure,” Steve said. “I want to try a little experiment.”
    “To prove what?”
    “That remains to be seen. I won’t know unless it happens. I haven’t figured it all out yet. But I just want to try something.”
    Tracy had opened the steno pad. “All set,” she said.
    “Good,” Steve said. “Now I want you to make a list.”
    “A list of what?”
    “Names. Names of people involved in the case. Start with David C. Bradshaw and Donald Blake.”
    Tracy’s pencil flew over the pad. “Yeah?”
    “Let’s see. Marilyn Harding, Douglas Kemper, and Phyllis Kemper.”
    “You want them as a group?”
    “No. It’s a list. One name to a line.”
    “O.K.”
    “Harry Dirkson.”
    “What?” Taylor said.
    “Sure,” Steve said. “Harry Dirkson. He’s involved in the case, isn’t he?”
    Taylor shook his head. “I wish I knew what you were getting at.
    “Probably better you don’t,” Steve said. “Put down Dirkson.”
    “Got him. Who’s next?”
    “Mark Taylor.”
    “What?” Taylor said.
    “Sure,” Steve said. “You’re involved in the case, aren’t you?”
    “Steve, I don’t want my name on a list.”
    “Relax. You feel picked on? O.K. After Mark Taylor, put down Steve Winslow and Tracy Garvin.”
    Taylor stared at him. “Steve, what the hell are you doing?”
    “I’m having fun. It happens to be the first time in this damn case I’ve had a chance to have fun, and you’re not going to spoil it for me. How many names is that?”
    Tracy counted up. “That’s nine.”
    “We need a few more. All right, Charles Miltner. And you got the names of his men in your notes?”
    “Yeah.”
    “O.K. Copy ’em in. There are four of ’em, right?”
    “Right.”
    Tracy looked up the names and copied them in.
    “O.K.,” Steve said. “Read me back the list.”
    “David C. Bradshaw. Donald Blake. Marilyn Harding. Douglas Kemper. Phyllis Kemper. Harry Dirkson. Mark Taylor. Steve Winslow. Tracy Garvin. Charles Miltner. Jason Fisher. Saul Burroughs. Fred Grimes. Michael Reed.”
    “Fine,” Steve said. “And last but not least, Pauline Keeling.”
    “Steve,” Mark said. “Please. Don’t blow that for me.”
    “Relax,” Steve said. “All right, Tracy, look. I want you to type up that list. One name to a line, with a space between ’em so they stand out. That should just about fill a page, right?”
    “Yeah,” Tracy said. “Should be fine.”
    “Good. Now, I want you to type the list twice. The second time you type it, leave off the name, Pauline Keeling. Got a typewriter she can use, Mark?”
    “By the reception desk.”
    “O.K. Come on. Let’s type ’em up.”
    They went out to the reception area and Tracy typed the lists. Steve took them and looked at them. He nodded.
    “O.K. Now you got a metal clipboard? One that looks official?”
    “Yeah.”
    Taylor rummaged in the desk and came out with a clipboard. Steve took the first list, the one with Pauline Keeling’s name on it, and clipped it on. He