The Anonymous Client by Parnell Hall Read Free Book Online Page A

Steve Winslow?
    Tracy could understand why he’d done it. It was frustrating that Bradshaw had taken his money back. And Tracy could understand Steve not wanting to work for nothing.
    But still.
    As she sat at her desk with nothing to do, Tracy’s mind wandered away from Winslow and Bradshaw and her job, and back to the problems that had been obsessing her before the whole Bradshaw thing started. What to do now? She’d given notice, and she needed a job. When was she going to look, on her lunch hour? Damn. Why the hell’d she thrown out the Sunday Times. That was stupid. Didn’t she want to get a job?
    She realized, of course, the answer was no. Who likes looking for work? Getting a job was one of the worst experiences in the world.
    But it was more than that. She didn’t really want this job to end. She didn’t really want to quit, to give up, to admit it was hopeless.
    But there was no help for it. Two more weeks. She’d have to find something fast. Her lease was up in three months, which meant a rent increase. And she was just getting by now. She couldn’t afford to miss even a week of work. Then she’d really be in trouble. She might even have to take in a roommate. In a one-bedroom apartment, that meant giving up the living room. And sharing the bath. And the bathroom was off her bedroom, not off the hall. Which meant her roommate would have to come tromping through her room every time she wanted to use it. Jesus, what a nightmare. What a hell of a—
    Tracy’s thoughts were interrupted by the plop of the mail falling through the slot. She looked up. Two letters were lying on the floor by the door. Two. Wow. Big day. Tracy got up from her desk and plodded mechanically over to pick up the mail.
    Steve Winslow looked up from his paper when Tracy Garvin appeared at the door. He figured that she was just reaffirming the fact that she had given notice, and was ready with some sarcastic comment, but the look on her face stopped him.
    “What is it?” he said.
    Tracy held out a letter. “Another one.”
    “Another letter?”
    “Yes.”
    “Don’t tell me there’s another retainer.”
    “There is.”
    Tracy handed Steve the envelope. He reached in and pulled out the torn half of a dollar bill.
    “Son of a bitch,” Winslow said.
    “There’s a letter with it.”
    “Don’t tell me,” Steve said. “This is my change from the ten grand, right?”
    “Not quite.”
    Steve pulled out the letter, opened it, and read it aloud.
    “Dear Mr. Winslow: I realize that my first letter failed to establish any means by which I could prove my identity. Enclosed find half of a dollar bill. In the event that I am in need of your services, I will present you with the other half of the bill. In the meantime, please remember that this is a matter requiring the utmost tact and delicacy.”
    Steve looked at Tracy. “Jesus Christ.”
    Tracy eyes were gleaming. “Yeah. Why would Bradshaw send you that letter?”
    Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. First Bradshaw sends me a retainer. Second, Bradshaw steals the retainer from my safe. Third, Bradshaw sends me the letter.”
    “Maybe it’s the other way around.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Maybe he sent the letter before he took the money back.”
    “The letter is postmarked today.”
    “That’s true, but he could have mailed it yesterday. He might have dropped it in a mailbox, and the mail wasn’t picked up until today.”
    Steve shook his head. “He was in my office at three-thirty in the afternoon. If he’d mailed the letter before then, it would have been picked up. And he wouldn’t have mailed it after he’d been to see me.”
    Tracy frowned. “I see the point. But that’s what he must have done.”
    “All right, then we come back to why.”
    Tracy shook her head. “You’ve got me. There’s no reason on earth why he would send that letter.”
    “Exactly,” Steve said. “If he stole the money, he wouldn’t have sent the letter. And we