The reporters left, baffled and intrigued. That night, Jake Emspak sat alone in his apartment high over Central Park West, chuckling with satisfaction as he read the headlines in the first editions:
FAMED CRIMINAL LAWYER IN MYSTERY CASE
The other headlines were substantially the same. Jake grinned. Things were working out fine, just fine. Publicity was a wonderful tool, if a lawyer knew when to use it, and how. He showed one of the headlines to his wife, whose picture was in a mellow gold frame on the stand beside his window chair. Marge had been dead since '67, but he still found it a quiet comfort to share things with her. She didn't have to answer, because words weren't necessary after you'd lived and loved with a woman for forty-three years. His thin smile became warmer as he turned toward her.
"Mystery case!" he chortled. "Mystery! The only mystery is why someone hasn't tried a case like this before!"
He paused, looked across the park at the spangle of lights, and added softly:
"But I'm glad no one did."
Ed Murrow called just before Jake went to bed.
"Sorry you got into this?" Murrow asked.
"You know better than that, Ed. I'm deeply grateful to you for tipping me off on this case."
"Well, don't forget to tip me off, too, Jake! I'm not too old to appreciate a scoop now and then!"