dunno.” I shook my head and stared at it. “It’s a file the lawyer in Palm Springs gave me. He said he didn’t want to be involved, he figured I could do whatever I saw fit with it. He figured he’d held onto it long enough.”
“Have you looked at it?”
“Naw, shit, it could only be more bad news. Besides,” I said, as I sat back on the couch, “I haven’t had time.”
Liz knelt down and removed the rubber band that held it shut. She flipped it open and thumbed through the files inside. There were notes on a legal pad as well as a thick, sealed Fed Ex envelope.
“What’s in here?” She asked, almost to herself, as she pulled the envelope out of the folder.
“I don’t even want to know.”
Liz tore it open and pulled a thick stack of papers from inside. “There’s a cover letter from some private detective agency.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, remembering Murdock’s story. “The lawyer said she’d hired some guy to follow Steele. You know, to get some proof that he was cheating on her.” I leaned forward, growing more interested and resigned. Might as well learn whatever there was to learn.
Liz fanned through the papers. “Shit,” she said, “There are pictures in here.” She took a stack of eight by tens and spread them out on the table.
“Oh my God.” I uttered, catching my breath the instant I saw them. There were eight photographs taken from a distance, looking in through the window of a house. I picked up one of the photos. It was a medium shot of two men with their shirts off, one with his hands on the shoulders of the other. They appeared to be talking casually, holding each other in a loose embrace. The one doing the talking was Steele. The other, smiling in the midst of laughter, with his head tilted to one side and his hair disheveled, was Garrett Andersen.
“What?” Liz asked. “What is it? Who is it?”
“It’s Steele.” I sank back on the couch, defeated, running one hand through my hair and holding the photo out and away from me with the other.
“I know that. Who’s the other guy?”
“His lawyer, Garrett Andersen.”
“Noooooo!” Liz’s shock was palpable. She snatched up two of the photos and inspected them closely. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” And I was sure, but I could hardly process it all.
Liz looked each of the pictures over. They all appeared to be shot through the same window and at roughly the same time. The angle showed the bottom portion of a bed, and, though there was nothing explicitly sexual in the photos themselves, the import was obvious. These were the before and after pictures. It was undeniable. The ruffled blankets on the bed, the partially clothed bodies, the shirt draped over a chair in the background, the belt laying on the floor next to a wadded up pile that was likely a pair of slacks. The story was self-evident.
After several minutes of gawking, Liz turned her attention to the rest of the file. “My god, I wonder what else is in here?” She spoke aloud but mostly to herself as she arranged piles of papers on the table, being careful to set the photographs off to the side.
“What the hell am I gonna do?”
Liz stopped and gave me a funny look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what am I gonna do?” I’d already choked down my third beer and I got up and went to the fridge. I crouched down and dug around. “Christ. You got anymore beer?”
“What do you mean, what are you gonna do?” Liz called from the next room.
“About all this,” I responded, returning with a half empty bottle of white wine and two glasses. “I mean, I’ve got all this new evidence. All this information.”
“Well,” Liz was almost laughing at the obviousness of her solution. “You go to the police. I mean, what are you thinking about doing?”
I poured the wine and shook my head. “It’s not that simple. Look, these guys don’t want this coming out. I mean, they’ve got someone following me. They’re tearing up my apartment. If Steele really is the murderer, then why shouldn’t I think he’d do something to me?”
“Well, what good would doing something to you do if you’ve already told the police? I mean, it would be obvious who did it.”
“Thanks. I’m not interested in being Exhibit A at Steele’s next trial. I’m freaked out here. Andersen is obviously on to me. He knows