Parnell Hall - The Naked Typist

Tracy Garvin folded up her glasses, put her hand on her hip and said, Theres a young woman here to see you.

Steve Winslow looked up from his desk and frowned. When Tracy took off her glasses and folded them up, it usually meant she was annoyed at him. In this instance, Steve couldnt imagine why. An unexpected client showing up and wanting to see him could hardly be considered his fault. Unless it was Judy Meyers, the actress who was Steve Winslows off-again, on-again girlfriend. That would explain it. Tracy Garvins attitude toward her was catty at best. But Tracy knew Judy. If it were her, shed have said so.

So what was it?

Steve put down the paper hed been reading. What does she want?

Tracy shook her head. She wouldnt say. Only that its urgent and she wants to talk to you personally.

All right. Show her in.

Tracy didnt move.

Whats the matter?

Tracy took a breath. I didnt point out to her how lucky she was that she happened to come by this afternoon.

What do you mean?

If shed come by any other afternoon this week you wouldnt have been here.

I know. I have a new passion. Im learning to play golf.

Im happy for you.

Tracy, whats the problem?

Tracy took another breath. The problem is you havent had a client in months. And not that there havent been any. Youve just turned them all down.

I have a client.

Who?

Sheila Benton. Her annual retainer pays for this office, pays your salary and gives me enough to get by. Basically, that is my law practice. Anything else is just gravy.

Thats not the point.

Whats the point?

The point is, theres no gravy. The Jeremy Dawson case has been over for months. You havent had a client since.

Is that my fault?

As I said, its not that there havent been any. Youve just turned them all down.

I dont defend drug dealers.

They werent all drug dealers.

No, there was that vehicular homicide. The boy did it. You think I should have got him off just cause his old mans rich?

No, but-

Then there was the guy shot his wife because she was sleeping around. You think I should have gone to court and plead the unwritten law? Boom, boom, kill the harlot?

No, but-

Tracy, I havent been turning down clients just to give you a hard time. The problem is, theres no work, so you sit in the office and read murder mysteries all day and it clouds your thinking. Real life isnt like that. A case like Jeremy Dawson doesnt come along every day.

I know that.

I know you know that. What I dont know is why youre bringing this up now.

Oh.

Well?

Tracy ran her hand over her head, pushed the long blonde hair out of her eyes. Well, this woman-her names Kelly Blaine-I just know youre going to turn her down.

Steves eyes narrowed. Why?

Well, Tracy said, she did tell me a little about the case. I mean, generally.

And?

Tracy bit her lip. Well, she said, shes a typist, and she was fired from her job.

Steve shook his head. I dont do management/labor disputes.

I know that, I know that, Tracy said quickly. But theres more to it than that. I gather she was also subjected to unwanted attentions.

I dont do sexual harassment either.

I know that.

Steve looked at her, smiled, shook his head. Tracy, were not communicating. I know you. Youre not really interested in sexual discrimination cases, either. Youll pardon me, but you have a storybook mentality. For some reason this woman interests you. What is it?

Well, Tracy said, for one thing, shes barefoot.

Steve frowned. That was something. In New York City, no one goes barefoot. Are you sure? Steve said. She couldnt be walking the streets barefoot. Maybe she has her shoes in her purse.

She hasnt got a purse.

No?

No. And shes wearing an overcoat.

Steve frowned. An overcoat? In this weather?

Yes.

She didnt take it off when she came in?

No. And its too big for her, too. Its a mans overcoat.

Steve looked at Tracy sideways. You set me up for this, didnt you? All that preamble about there being no work and me turning clients down. Thats why you want me to take her case. Theres a punch line to all this, isnt there?

Tracy grinned, nodded. Yes, there is.

Well, what is it?

I think shes naked.

Tracy Garvin held the door open as Kelly Blaine padded barefoot into the office and settled into the clients chair. She started to cross her legs, thought better of it, pulled the overcoat around her and smoothed it down over her knees.

Steve Winslow had stood up to introduce himself when she came in, but so far she had avoided his eyes. Steve sat back down and sized her up.

Kelly Blaine was an attractive woman, somewhere in her early twenties. She wasnt at all what Steve had imagined. But that, he realized, was wholly based on Tracys statement that the woman might be nude. Steves mind had immediately leaped to topless dancers, nude models, hookers. Hed unconsciously been expecting a woman with exaggerated makeup, false eyelashes, heavy eye shadow, red lipstick, too much blush. A woman exuding blatant sexuality.

Kelly Blaine was none of that. Her makeup, if any, was light and natural. Her brown hair was cut short and stylish, conservatively so. But looks, Steve knew, could be deceiving. His own secretary, with sweater and blue jeans and long blonde hair falling in her face, looked more like a college student than a legal secretary. And he, in T-shirt, corduroy jacket and blue jeans, with shoulder-length dark hair, looked more like a refugee from the sixties than a lawyer.

Kelly Blaine looked up at him and their eyes met. He could see doubt in hers. Steve was used to that. He was not used to women sitting in his office barefoot in an overcoat.

Miss Blaine, is it? Steve said.

Yes.

He motioned to Tracy Garvin, who drew up a chair and sat down. My secretary tells me you were fired.

Thats right.

Is that what you want to see me about?

Partly.

Thats good, because I dont do management/labor disputes.

This isnt a dispute.

Steve smiled. It was an amicable firing?

Hardly.

Would you care to explain?

Kelly Blaine took a breath. All right. I was working for Milton Castleton.

Who is that?

She frowned. Youre an attorney and youve never heard of Milton Castleton?

I havent been an attorney long. And I have an unusual practice. Basically, I handle one client.

She frowned. But arent you the one? The one who got the Dawson boy off?

Occasionally I make exceptions. Jeremy Dawson was one of them.

Fine. Then Im asking you to make one in my case.

Im not promising anything, but Im willing to listen. Now, Steve said, Im who you thought I was-whatever that means. Ive never heard of Milton Castleton-whoever he is. If that makes a difference to you, you should go see someone else. I dont do corporate work. I dont do management/labor. I dont do domestic hassles. If I take on a case, its generally murder. If this case is the result of you being fired, it probably wont interest me, and I tell you that in advance. If you want to tell me about it, Im here and Im willing to listen. But if you just want to get me on the defensive by making me feel inadequate for not knowing who Milton Castleton is, frankly youre wasting your time and mine.

Kelly Blaine drew herself up, stuck out her chin. Thats not it. Youre who I want. You fight for the little guy. The rest doesnt matter. I couldnt go to another law office anyway. Theyd laugh me out of there.

Why?

She ran her hand over her face. Because its bizarre. The whole situations bizarre.

Steve shifted impatiently in his chair.

She held up her hand. Okay, okay. But first off, you dont know who Milton Castleton is. Well, hes rich. Stinking rich. Hes a wealthy industrialist. Castleton Industries. Thats how you would have heard of him. Anyway, hes retired now-hes close to eighty-and his son runs the business.