SW04 - The Naked Typist

by Parnell Hall

She shrugged. “And that’s it. That’s the story. I fucked up, plain and simple.”

  “That’s for sure,” Taylor said. “How many drinks you have?”

  Marcie stiffened somewhat. Her chin came up. “Two.”

  “Two what?”

  “Martinis.”

  Taylor snorted. “Shit.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Marcie said. “I can hold it. I was trying for a pickup. I wasn’t gonna impress the guy as an easy lay sitting there drinking Diet Coke.”

  Taylor opened his mouth to say something, but Steve held up his hand.

  “Now hang on, Mark,” Steve said. “It’s a fuckup, but the way she tells it, I don’t see what else she could have done. Let’s stop worrying about what we didn’t get, and see what we got.”

  Steve turned to Marcie. “Now, the girl who came in—can you describe her any better?”

  Marcie frowned. “Brown hair. Blue eyes. Clear complexion. Not pale, but not heavily tanned either. Her face was attractive, but not glamorous. Plain, simple, but nice. She was wearing a light blue business suit. Stylish but conservative. Big breasts, like I said, but deemphasized by the clothing. The impression I got was a practical, no-nonsense woman.”

  Steve nodded. “’That’s her, all right. Damn.”

  “I know,” Taylor said. “It’s frustrating as hell.”

  “I take it I’m off the case?” Marcie said. ‘Off the case’ was wishful thinking. She was hoping she wasn’t fired.

  Taylor might have been about to say exactly that, but Steve jumped in. “No, Mark, keep her on.”

  Taylor frowned. “Why?”

  “ ’Cause she made contact. And the bar’s only two blocks from Castleton Industries. Which means maybe it’s a place David Castleton regularly hangs out. Pops in for a drink after work. If so, it’s too good to pass up.” He jerked his thumb at Marcie Keller. “Now, there’s no way she could meet him anywhere else. That would be too big a coincidence and make him suspicious. But in the same bar it would be perfectly natural. So, Marcie, I want you to go hang out in the same bar tomorrow night. If Castleton comes in, make a play for him again.”

  “He wasn’t interested,” Taylor said.

  “Sure, because he was waiting for Kelly Blaine. If he weren’t, he might be very interested. If so, try to open him up, kid him along. Pull a ‘who was that chick you stood me up for last night?’ routine on him. Think you could handle that?”

  “Piece of cake.”

  “Fine, Mark. That’s what I want her to do.”

  Taylor shrugged. “Okay. It’s your money.” He turned to Marcie. “But if the girl shows up, you stick with her—I don’t care what it takes. Don’t rush to the phone and let her go.”

  “We can solve that now,” Steve said. “Have a guy in the bar with her. Not with her, of course, but ready to move if the girl shows up.”

  “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  Taylor gave Marcie her instructions and she left, obviously relieved to get out of there. He watched her go and shook his head. “I think you’re being too easy on her, Steve. For my money, she fucked up.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “As it turns out, she should have followed them instead of calling for backup. On the other hand, you could have had a man already staked out in the bar, like we’re doing tomorrow night, and she wouldn’t have had to make that decision.”

  Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me I fucked up?”

  “No, I’m just telling you what you didn’t do. Before you get hot under the collar about it, I could have told you to have backup in the bar, but I didn’t do it either. And I wouldn’t have done it, even if I’d known about it. Because there was no reason to suspect the guy would be meeting Kelly Blaine. So we didn’t prepare for it, and it’s really nobody’s fault.”

  “Maybe not, but I can tell you’re still pretty pissed.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanna find Kelly Blaine. You got eight trained operatives out scouring the city for her. They can’t find her, but David Castleton does just like that.”

  Taylor shook his head. “He couldn’t have found her. She must have called him.”

  “She didn’t know him. They’d never met. According to David Castleton, she didn’t even know he existed.”

  “That’s just his story.”

  “Yeah, but why would he lie about it? I mean, if he knew her, the whole thing makes even less sense.”

  “Which is saying something.”

  “Right. I mean, the guy came here looking for her. If he knew how to find her, he wouldn’t have done that. So he obviously doesn’t know how to find her. But twenty-four hours later he’s meeting her in a bar.”

  “Maybe he found her through his grandfather.”

  “He claimed he didn’t want his grandfather to know about it. Acted embarrassed about the whole thing. That’s just what he claimed, but still. Say he went to his grandfather’s, wanted to look up Kelly Blaine’s address in the records. That wouldn’t do him any good either.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause she gave me a phony name and address, it’s a cinch she gave Castleton one too. So the grandfather wouldn’t know how to find her any more than the grandson would.”

  “So maybe she called him.”

  “Grandpa?”

  “Sure.”

  “Yeah, that’s the only explanation. But if she did that, the question is why? She’d been fired from her job, she’d gotten a settlement. If she couldn’t cash the check, that was too bad, but it wasn’t Castleton’s fault and there was nothing he could do about it.”

  “Maybe that’s it, though,” Taylor said. “Maybe she wanted him to make good with cash.”

  “Whaddya mean?”

  “Tell him the check was worthless to her, she wanted her settlement, she wanted him to make good with thirty-three grand in cash.”

  “Why the hell would he do that?”

  “Well, she had him in a pretty embarrassing position.”

  “ ‘Had’ is the operative word. We’d made a settlement. He had a signed release letting him off the hook.”

  “Signed with a phony name,” Taylor pointed out.

  “True, but still binding,” Steve said. “Castleton entered into the settlement in good faith. He can’t be held accountable if my client’s actions are fraudulent.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know that.”

  Steve waved it away. “Even so. I mean, give me a break. The girl rings him up and says, ‘I’m not really Kelly Blaine and I tricked you on the settlement and I want more money,’ and Castleton says, ‘Fine, why don’t you go for drinks with my grandson.’”

  Taylor frowned. “I see your point.”

  Steve threw up his hands. “It’s a fucking nightmare. Nothing makes sense. I got a respectable young woman prancing around naked in front of a one-way glass for the benefit of a lecherous octogenarian who can’t get it up anymore but who still likes to look. I got a horny grandson running around looking for her who hasn’t got a prayer of finding her but who does just like that. And I got a fifty-thousand-dollar cash settlement that nobody seems to want.”

  “Right. So what does it all mean?”

  Steve took a breath, blew it out again. He shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest idea. And that, Mark, is what is really pissing me off.”

  13.

  TRACY GARVIN WAS IN A BAD mood when Steve Winslow walked into the office the next morning. “You’re late,” she said accusingly.

  Steve frowned. He was not in the best of moods himself. “Yeah, so?” he said.

  “Mark Taylor’s called three times already. Wants to see you right away.”

  “Oh yeah? What about?”

  Tracy’s eyes blazed. “He wouldn’t say.”

  Steve couldn’t help grinning. No wonder she was pissed. Mark Taylor had some information she wasn
’t going to hear till he got there, and he was late.

  “Oh,” Steve said. “Is he coming down?”

  “No, he’s hanging on the phones again. He wants you to stop up.”

  “Anything happening here? Any calls?”

  “No. Just Mark. Absolutely nothing is happening here.”

  Steve grinned. “Okay, you win. Put the answering machine on and let’s go.”

  Mark Taylor was grinning from ear to ear when they walked in. “Hi, Steve. Hi, Tracy. Sorry to hold out on you, but I had to be the one to tell him.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “We found her?”

  “You’re kidding.” *

  “Nope. I got you one naked typist, as ordered. Signed, sealed, delivered.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Apartment on East Eighty-eighth Street.”

  “She there now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Son of a bitch. How the hell’d you do that?”

  Taylor shrugged. “Easy as pie. And lucky as hell, to tell the truth. When Marcie lost them last night, I sent a man to stake out David Castleton’s building. It was a long shot—the way things stood, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell the guy’d get her up to his apartment. But it was too obvious a play to pass up. So I staked a man out in front of the building, and sure enough, ten-thirty they come walking up together large as life and go in.”

  “No shit.”

  “None. An hour later the girl comes out alone and my man tails her home.”

  “And it’s her? I mean, there’s no chance it’s the wrong girl?”

  “Well, there’s a chance it’s not your client. We didn’t have a picture to go on, just a description. But it’s the same girl he picked up in the bar, all right.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Taylor grinned. “Marcie Keller. The girl takes her job seriously. She knew she’d fucked up, and she felt bad. So when I sent her home last night she went out to David Castleton’s apartment. She didn’t know I’d assigned a man to it, though she could have figured it out if she’d thought about it. Anyway, she went out there on her own ’cause she knew she’d fucked up and she wanted to get out of the doghouse. So she went out there and ran into my man.”

  “What happened?”

  “He told her to relax, he had it covered, go home and forget about it. She wouldn’t hear of it. Said she was the only one who’d seen the girl, and if she showed up, she should be there to make the I.D. Anyway, they wound up staking out the place together, and she was there when Castleton showed up with the girl at ten-thirty.”

  “Jesus Christ. She follow her home, too?”

  “Sure. She stayed there until the girl came out, and the two of them followed her to her apartment.” He shook his head. “That’s when they had a falling out. Marcie and my guy, I mean. This guy, Dan Fuller, figures he found the girl and got her address, that’s the assignment, they should phone it in and go home. Marcie won’t hear of it. What if she doesn’t live there, she’s calling on a girlfriend and ten minutes after they leave she comes out again? Dan argues with her but it’s no go—Marcie’s blown it once, she’s not gonna blow it again, and the long and short of it is Dan hangs it up and Marcie sits there all night watching the apartment.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Why didn’t she phone in and ask for instructions?”

  “Switchboard’s closed that time of night. Service picks up, and they’ll ring me if it’s an emergency. Marcie doesn’t figure it’s an emergency, just routine. Actually, she couldn’t bear to ring me at midnight to tell me she’d done something she felt she should have done in the first place. Instead she sits there all night long, and I don’t hear of it until I get in this morning.”

  “She still there?”

  “Naw, she’s home now. She wouldn’t leave till I sent a man to relieve her. Even then, she put up a fight, saying the guy wouldn’t know the girl and she ought to be there to finger her for him.”

  “How’d you settle that?”

  “I sent Dan. He’d seen the girl, too, and she couldn’t argue with that.”

  “You sure she’s still there?”

  “Absolutely. Otherwise Dan would have called.”

  “You know what apartment she’s in?”

  “Yeah. Two-A.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s a brownstone. When the girl went in, a light came on on the second floor front. That’s Two-A.”

  “That should knock out the theory of her calling on a friend.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Dan said. But Marcie wasn’t taking any chances. Anyway, the name on the bell is K. Wilder. So at least the name Kelly might be right.”

  “You check it out?”

  “Just with information. Which doesn’t help much. They have a listing at that address, but it’s K. Wilder, too.”

  Steve frowned. “Okay. Hold down the fort, Mark. Tracy and I will take a run out there.”

  “Sure you don’t need another witness?” Taylor said. “I wouldn’t mind coming along.”

  Steve grinned. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. And I’m sure your interest is strictly professional. But she doesn’t know you, and I don’t want to spook her.”

  “Killjoy.”

  “Come on, Tracy. Let’s go.”

  They went out and hailed a cab. Once again, Steve had the cabbie let them off a block from the apartment. But this time it was for real. Steve didn’t like the situation at all, and he wasn’t taking any chances.

  They’d been silent in the cab. As soon as it drove off, Tracy said, “How you gonna play it?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on what she does. She’s gotta be surprised to see us.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “So we take it slow and easy, see how she reacts. If possible, let her start explaining before we even ask her anything.”

  “Think she will?”

  “She should. She gave us a phony name and address. She’s gotta try to explain that away.”

  “Oh yeah? Bet you another dinner the first thing she says is ‘How did you find me?’”

  “No takers. Anyway, we sidestep that question and counter by asking her why she didn’t cash the check.”

  “Gotcha.”

  They turned the corner onto 88th Street.

  Steve grabbed Tracy’s arm. “Son of a bitch!”

  Halfway down the block there were two police cars with their lights flashing parked in front of a brownstone. While Steve and Tracy watched, a plainclothes cop came out followed by two uniformed cops leading a handcuffed Kelly Blaine.

  14.

  “SHIT’S HIT THE FAN, MARK.”

  “I know. Dan called in right after you left. Says the place is lousy with cops.”

  “Yeah, and they got our girl. They just led her out in handcuffs.”

  “Shit. So that’s why Dan called back.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s on hold. I took your call first. Where you calling from?”

  “Pay phone on the corner.”

  “So is he. Must be the other end of the block. You wanna hook up with him?”

  “Fuck, no. Get him out of there, call him in. Then get a line into headquarters and find out what the hell’s going on. It shouldn’t be hard. Whatever it is, it’s something big.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Get a move on. We’ll be right there.”

  Steve slammed the phone down, hopped out in the street and hailed a cab. He and Tracy got in and headed back to the office.

  Tracy tried to talk on the way, but Steve cut her off with a meaningful look at the cabbie. They rode in silence, Tracy smoldering.

  The switchboard operator at the Taylor Detective Agency looked particularly harried. There were calls flashing on hold, and she was talking on another. As they walked in, yet another line rang. She said, “Hold, please,” pushed the button, said, “Taylor Detective Agency, please hold,” pushed another
button, jerked her thumb in the vague direction of Mark Taylor’s office, said, “Go on in,” pushed another button and said, “Yes, who is it?”

  Steve and Tracy walked into the office to find Mark Taylor holding two phones. “Okay, get back to me,” he barked into one and slammed it down. Without missing a beat he shifted the other phone, said, “That’s a theory, I need a confirmation. Get it,” and slammed that one down too. He grabbed a paper cup of coffee from the desk, took a sip, swallowed, exhaled. “We are in deep shit.”

  “What’s up, Mark?”

  “David Castleton’s dead.”

  “What?!”

  Taylor grimaced, ran his hand over his head. “Cleaning lady showed up at David Castleton’s apartment nine o’clock this morning, let herself in with a key. Found him lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Shot once through the heart with a thirty-two-caliber automatic. Gun found lying next to the body.”

  “Self-inflicted?”

  Taylor shook his head. “Not a prayer. There was a pillow used to muffle the shot. Sofa cushion, actually. Suicides don’t do that. Suicides don’t give a shit who hears the shot. Besides, you usually shoot yourself in the head, not the heart.”

  “Speak for yourself. When did it happen?”

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to find out. What’s it been, fifteen minutes since you called me? They arrested the girl, I got a line into headquarters, this is the result.”

  The intercom buzzed. Taylor snatched up the phone, punched a button. “Yeah?” He listened a moment, then covered the mouthpiece and said, “Dan Fuller’s here. Wanna see him?”

  “Yeah, but not yet. Have him wait.”

  Taylor nodded, said into the phone, “Tell him to hang out till I want him. And no gossip.”

  “No gossip?” Steve said.

  “Which means don’t talk about the fucking case. Which is a big problem, which is what you and I gotta talk about right now.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Steve said. “But let’s get the facts first. What about Marcie Keller?”

  “What about her?”

  “Where is she?”

  “Most likely home asleep.”

  “You didn’t call her?”

  “In my spare time?” Taylor said sarcastically.

  “Call her now. Get her in here.”