Client Privilege by William G. Tapply Read Free Book Online Page B

I couldn’t place him. But when they showed me that picture, I remembered the guy that was with you. Knew it was him right off. I seen Wayne Churchill on the tube plenty of times. They had a picture of you, too.”
    “They did?”
    “Yup.” Skeeter shrugged apologetically. “I had to tell them the truth.”
    “Of course you did.”
    “I told them it looked like you and Churchill had planned to meet here. I mean, I didn’t know that, but that’s how it looked.”
    “That’s all right.”
    “I told them you had some kind of argument.”
    I nodded. “I guess that’s accurate too.”
    “They wanted to know when he left, and when you left. I was able to pin down the times pretty close, because of the hockey game. I told them that Churchill left at nine twenty-five. You had another drink and left about fifteen minutes later.” Skeeter arched his eyebrows at me. “You got a problem, Mr. Coyne?”
    “Nothing I can’t work out.”
    “That guy got murdered, you know.”
    “Yes, I know.”
    “Channel Eight did a big thing on it on the six o’clock news. They’re saying the police have a suspect.”
    “Suspect? Did they say suspect, singular? Or did they say suspects?”
    “They said suspect, Mr. Coyne. Singular. Actually, I think they said possible suspect. Or maybe alleged possible suspect.” He smiled. “You know how they think they gotta talk.”
    I nodded. “That’s how they have to do it.”
    “From what I hear, the suspect is the girl who phoned it in.”
    “I heard that too.”
    “Hope I didn’t get you in trouble, Mr. Coyne.”
    “Nah. You did what you’re supposed to do. No problem.”
    “Well, hell,” said Skeeter. “Man like you. Lawyer and all. Christ, they can’t suspect you, can they?”
    “No, I don’t think they suspect me. I’m not worried about that.”
    “I mean,” persisted Skeeter, leaning toward me on his forearms, “they talked to me, too.”
    I sipped my bourbon. “They were just backtracking his movements, that’s all. That’s why they talked to both of us.”
    Skeeter leaned across the bar to me. “Looked like the guy was giving you a hard time.”
    I shrugged. “We had a little disagreement.”
    “I had to mention that to the cops. Felt bad, but I had to.”
    I nodded.
    “They already knew,” he said.
    “Knew what?”
    “They knew that you were here with him. I mean, even before I told them anything, they already had his picture and your picture. They didn’t even ask if you were here together. Just, did I know who the two of you were, whether you came in and left together; what you had to drink, did I know what you talked about. They knew you were here, and they knew you were here with each other.”
    “Don’t feel bad,” I told him.
    “I didn’t tell them that I heard anything you said to each other, though.”
    “Did you?”
    “What, hear anything?”
    “Yes.”
    He grinned. “Not me. Bartenders only hear what they’re supposed to hear.”
    When I got back from Skeeter’s, the red light on my answering machine was winking. I played the tape. “This is Gloria,” she said. “Please call me.”
    She answered on the second ring. “It’s me,” I said.
    “Brady, what the hell is going on?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Two cops showed up on my doorstep just about suppertime.”
    “Sylvestro and Finnigan.”
    “Yes. And aside from that Finnigan practically raping me with his eyes—”
    “He did?”
    “He sure as hell did,”
    “He hardly glanced at Julie.”
    “Oh, I’ll bet.”
    “What’d they want, hon?” I said.
    “They started asking me all about our phone conversation last night. I mean, wasn’t that about the most innocuous conversation you can imagine?”
    “I don’t think they cared about the content of it.”
    “No. You’re right. They wanted to know the times.”
    “So what did you tell them?”
    “Well, in spite of the way that Finnigan kept running his eyes over my body, Mr. Sylvestro was really quite nice and