Free To Catch a Spy by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page B

said.
    “Preliminary report says he’s been dead at least ten hours, and Kelso and O’Boylan found blood traces on the floor. I can’t see you killing him last night and bringing his body home and then sticking around for ten hours till the police came.”
    “And what about the tip that said there was a dead man in the apartment?” I asked. “My guess is someone was watching the place or following me and called in so I’d be there when Kelso and O’Boylan arrived.”
    “Sounds right,” said Phil, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk.
    He sat there staring at me.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Your client’s name and the real reason you were in the park.”
    “Can’t tell you, Phil,” I said.
    “Did Volkman get killed because you met him in the Grove?”
    “Can’t tell you, Phil,” I said again.
    “It’s a crime to obstruct justice,” he said.
    “I know.”
    “And I know you know,” he said. “You’re not giving me much choice here, Toby.”
    “My client didn’t kill Volkman,” I said.
    “You’re sure?”
    “I’m sure,” I said.
    “Good,” said Phil, slapping his hands on the desk, a sure sign that he was about to lose control. “Now I want to be sure.”
    “My word’s not good enough, is it?”
    He didn’t bother to answer. He was on his feet now, fists clenched.
    “I’d tell you if I could,” I said. “But I promised I’d keep my client out of this. If I start turning my clients in, it won’t be long before there aren’t any clients. Phil, I sell my loyalty.”
    “You want me to make you an offer?” he said with heavy sarcasm.
    “I don’t betray my clients,” I said.
    “Integrity.”
    “That’s all I have, that and a body in serious need of an overhaul and some rest.”
    Phil came around the desk. I got up quickly, ready to get the hell out of that office before he threw me into a corner. He cut me off and moved in front of me. His right hand came up and touched my arm.
    “How badly did they pound you?” he asked.
    “Bad enough. Stitches. Sore neck and shoulder.”
    “I’ll have to turn you over to the district attorney’s office,” he said.
    “They haven’t got enough to hold me,” I said. “And if you just talk to the cop at the park, he’ll tell you I reported the murder.”
    Phil backed away, shaking his head. He moved to his desk and picked up the phone.
    “Lester,” he said, “find me the officer on duty last night who checked out Elysian Park.… I don’t have his name. He’s an old-timer. Make it fast.”
    “You want coffee?” he asked, hanging up the phone.
    “No, thanks.”
    Phil shrugged and left to get himself a cup. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had handled the two cops badly and I wasn’t doing all that well with Phil. I reached into my pocket for my three bottles of pills and downed one from each as Phil returned to his desk.
    His phone was ringing. He put the cup down and picked up the phone.
    “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah … you sure?… Thanks.”
    He hung up the phone, took a sip of coffee, and looked at me.
    “No cop in the park last night,” he said.
    “He was there,” I said.
    “Park’s not patrolled at night,” said Phil.
    “He said …” I began. Then I stopped. “He let me go. Said he didn’t want to do the paperwork.”
    Phil stared at me.
    “You know I’m beginning to think the guy wasn’t a cop. I’m beginning to think he was just trying to find out what I knew.”
    “Think some more, Tobias,” Phil said.
    “I know.”
    “But I believe you,” he said after a long pause. “I know when you’re lying. And I know you wouldn’t shoot anyone in the back. But you do know something.”
    I shrugged.
    “All right,” he said with a final sigh, “we’ll let the D.A.’s office take over.”
    “I want to call my lawyer,” I said.
    “Give me his number,” said Phil. “I’ll get him for you.”
    “It’s Sunday,” I said. “We’ll have to call him at home. I don’t know his home number, and only