The Anonymous Client by Parnell Hall Page B

searched?”
    “You’re damn right I did.”
    “Why?”
    “Why do you think? So you couldn’t claim I took anything out of that apartment.”
    Stams wheeled on Frank. “You sure he’s clean?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Any chance he could have ditched something on his way down here?”
    “Not a chance. We had him handcuffed.”
    Stams frowned. “I don’t like it. I think he took something out of that apartment.”
    Steve smiled. “Thank you.”
    Stams eyed him suspiciously. “For what?”
    “Not disappointing me.”
    Stams took a breath, blew it out again. “All right, Winslow. Let’s have it straight. What were you doing in that apartment?”
    “He told you. Sitting on the couch.”
    “I don’t need any of your lip. This is a murder investigation. I want some answers. Why did you go there?”
    “To see Bradshaw.”
    “What about?”
    “I had a matter I wanted to discuss with him.”
    “What matter?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s privileged information.”
    “Involving a client?”
    “Naturally.”
    “Who’s the client?”
    “I can’t tell you.”
    “Was Bradshaw the client?”
    “I can’t tell you.”
    “If Bradshaw was the client, privileged information isn’t going to help him now that he’s dead.”
    “On the contrary,” Steve said. “Many clients wish to have their rights protected even after they are dead. I believe that’s the principle on which wills are drawn.”
    Stams pounced on the false scent. “Did Bradshaw consult you about a will?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “I know you didn’t say that. I asked you if he did.”
    “My business with Bradshaw is confidential. I can’t tell you about it.”
    “Do you deny it was about a will?”
    “I don’t deny it and I won’t confirm it.”
    Stams changed his tack. “When you got there, where was Bradshaw?”
    “Right where he is now.”
    “Did you move the body?”
    “I felt for a pulse.”
    “So you did move the body.”
    “No. I just touched the wrist.”
    “Was there a pulse?”
    “There was none.”
    “What time was it when you got here?”
    “I didn’t look at my watch.”
    “Approximately what time was it when you got here?”
    “Somewhere around six. I tell you I didn’t look at my watch.”
    “How long were you in the apartment before the police arrived?”
    “Not more than a minute.”
    “And you claim he was dead when you got there?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you only touched the body to feel his pulse?”
    “Yes.”
    “You didn’t remove anything from the body?”
    “No, I did not.”
    “You didn’t take anything out of the apartment?”
    “No, I did not.”
    “And the police arrived a minute after you did?”
    “Within approximately one minute.”
    “And yet you have no idea what time it was when you got to Bradshaw’s apartment?”
    “No.”
    “Then you didn’t have a specific appointment with Bradshaw?”
    “Congratulations, Sergeant.”
    “What for?”
    “That’s the first deduction you’ve made from my statements. I was beginning to think you were asking me questions just to keep in practice.”
    “So you had no appointment with Bradshaw?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You just decided to call on him?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Ever call on him before?”
    “No.”
    “That right, lady?” Stams asked Miss Dobson.
    “I think so. At least, I’ve never seen him. If you want my opinion—”
    “I don’t,” Stams said. “So, Winslow, out of the clear blue sky you call on Bradshaw for the first time, and he just happens to be dead.”
    “I am rather unlucky,” Steve said.
    “It was just a coincidence?”
    “Well, I would certainly hope that my calling on people had no effect on their longevity. Otherwise, I imagine my dinner invitations would be rather infrequent.”
    “You know what I’m getting at. You knew Bradshaw was dead before you got here, didn’t you?”
    “I did not.”
    “Can you prove it?”
    “Of course not.”
    Stams