The Innocent Woman

decaffeinated.”
    “That’s for me,” Steve said.
    He stood up just as Tracy Garvin came in the door with a paper bag.
    “Hey, gang, coffee and doughnuts,” she said.
    “Saved by the bell,” Taylor said.
    “What about the phones?” Steve said.
    “Relax. Call-forwarding’s on. And the only message was to call here.” Tracy pulled a cup of coffee out of the bag, handed it to Steve. “Here. Drink this. Make you much less grouchy.”
    “I’ve got a right to be grouchy,” Steve said. “Dirkson served a search warrant.”
    “What?”
    “That’s right.,” Taylor said. “They searched Amy Dearborn’s apartment last night. We have no idea why or what they found, and we’re waiting to hear.”
    “Would Amy know?” Tracy said.
    “Yeah,” Steve said. “That’s one way to go. I could rush down to the lockup, ask her what is there in her apartment she wouldn’t want the cops to find that would absolutely clinch the case against her. Interesting as hell to hear what she says to that.”
    “You really think it’s that bad?” Tracy said.
    “Dirkson was smug. At the time I thought it meant he could nail us. Now, I hear this, I figure he must have got the goods on her.”
    “So what’s the word, Mark?” Tracy said. “What’s your source giving out?”
    Taylor shook his head. “Lid’s on tight. I didn’t even get the report they picked you up.”
    Steve fished a doughnut out of the paper bag, dunked it in the coffee, took a bite. “So what have you got, Mark? How we doing on the other fronts?”
    Taylor shrugged. “I got a lot of information coming in. But it’s not that helpful. The partner, Marvin Lowery, lives in Great Neck. He was home last night. At least from eight-thirty on. Which isn’t good enough. So far there’s no word from the medical examiner, so we don’t have a time of death. But there’s no way eight-thirty’s going to do it. Let him out, I mean.”
    “How long’s the drive to Great Neck?”
    “Under an hour. Say, forty-five minutes.” Taylor flipped a page of his notebook. “And I can do better than that, actually. Lowery’s car’s in a garage on 48th Street. According to the attendant, he picked it up somewhere around seven-thirty, quarter to eight.”
    “Wait a minute,” Steve said. “Why’s his car on 48th Street?”
    “It’s near his office.”
    “Yeah, but he wasn’t at his office. He was in court. He spent the whole day downtown on Centre Street. So why would he park there?”
    “I have the answer,” Taylor said. “Because it’s paid for. He has a monthly rental. The way I see it, he drives in from the island, parks near the office, goes up, checks the answering machine and the mail. Though, probably the mail’s not there that early, but still. According to the garage he parked between eight-thirty and nine yesterday morning, same as usual. When’s court, ten? So I figure he went up to the office, took care of business, then took the subway downtown to court.”
    “Interesting,” Steve said. “No matter how you slice it, if his car’s in that garage, that puts him in the neighborhood when the crime took place.”
    “Right,” Taylor said.
    “And, as you say, the mail probably hadn’t arrived when he was there in the morning, so what would be more natural than that he would go there and check it after court?”
    “Sound’s good to me,” Taylor said. “I haven’t made a pass at him directly because he’s on the other side. But if you want me to try it, just say the word.”
    Steve shook his head. “No, he’ll just clam up on you. That’s the type of thing, I’d rather spring it on him in court.”
    “Okay,” Taylor said. “Anyway, that’s Lowery. Now the detective—what’s his name?—Macklin—he’s another story. He’s a bachelor, lives alone, claims he was home last night.”
    “Claims?”
    “Yeah, my man spoke to him directly.” Taylor shrugged. “Only way to do it, really. The guy lives in a brownstone, no doorman to verify it with. And his agency’s a one man show. So who you gonna ask? He happens to be the only source of information on his whereabouts. Which cuts both ways. He’s got no alibi on the one hand. On the other, it’s hard to prove he doesn’t.”
    “Was he cooperative?” Steve asked.
    “Yes and no,” Taylor said.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Well, it’s not like he was cooperative, but he gave a lot of information.”
    “How is that?”
    “Well, my man played it smart. Calls him up,