“Why?” Ann asked.
“That cab’s brakes had failed twice before I left Gold Star. I warned Brownley that they needed work. But they didn’t do a thing, Ms. Granger. Not before I left, and not after, because I saw that cab on the street.”
“You did all you could,” Nancy said.
“No. I could have reported them. If I had, Vera Harvey wouldn’t be walking with a cane today.”
Now Nancy was sure her suspicion was right. “Mr. Tyler, you’re Ann Granger’s source, aren’t you?” she asked.
“What?” Ann asked.
Mr. Tyler turned pink. “Young lady, you’re too smart for your own good. But so am I. You’re that lawyer’s daughter, aren’t you? You were on the news. They said that you’re a detective.”
The reporter stood up. “You mean, she’s right?”
“She’s right. I’m sorry, Ms. Granger. It never occurred to me I’d get you and Mr. Drew in so much trouble. Believe me, I’d never have let them put you in jail. I’d have come forward. Still plan to. You just tell me when.”
Ann leaned over and shook his hand. “Mr. Tyler, it means a great deal to me to hear you say that, but I don’t want you to do it. There’s a principle involved here. I’m protected by the First Amendment, and I intend to stick by my guns.”
“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he said.
Nancy noticed that Ann didn’t mention that the members of the grand jury weren’t the only people who wanted to know his name.
“As I said, I’m sorry about the trouble I caused,” Mr. Tyler went on. “I just couldn’t sit back and see anyone else hurt, so I called you.”
“But why the newspaper?”
“After Vera’s accident, I went to Brownley and Reston and told them if they didn’t do something about those cabs, I’d report them to the Hacks Bureau. I thought Reston would beat me up, he was so mad, but Brownley cooled him down. Said I was right and they’d take care of things.”
“But they didn’t,” Ann said.
“No, but I didn’t find out until recently. My daughter in New York City had been nagging me to go and live with her. Well, I tried it for almost a year, but that was enough. Too many people on that island. I moved back here and found the same old cabs in the same rotten condition. My grandson told me it’s a miracle one car lasts for an entire shift.”
“When did you move back here, Mr. Tyler?” Nancy asked.
“A couple of months back. I went to the Hacks Bureau, and they sent me over to Public Safety. I explained that I wanted to report Gold Star, and they sent me somewhere else. Took me awhile before I realized I was getting the runaround. Everybody seemed to be covering for Gold Star.”
Nancy thought back to the glowing reports she had gotten about Gold Star cabs from those very same offices, and wondered what she had stumbled onto.
“One thing about business today,” Mr. Tyler was saying, “they can’t operate without insurance. When nobody downtown would listen, I figured that if I told Mid-City about the rotten cabs, they’d either get rid of Gold Star or make them clean up their act, as the young folks say.”
“Only there was no Mid-City,” Nancy said, beginning to understand.
“Right. But I thought it out. Expose Mid-City, and Gold Star would have to get another insurance company. To get one, they’d have to fix up their cabs. So that’s the route I took.”
“So you called me again telling me to talk to Mrs. Harvey,” Ann said.
“Yes. I found out Brownley and Reston had paid Vera’s bills themselves. If they did that, it meant they’d gone to Mid-City earlier to take care of the bills and found out it was phony then and there. But they’ve paid everybody’s bills and have never said a word to anybody. They’re as crooked as the Mid-City guys.”
“So there have been other accidents?” Nancy asked to be certain.
“Minor ones, mainly with Crimson Oaks people. But Gold Star’s got to be put out of business. And I’d like to be there when it happens. I’d give anything to know what they’re doing in that basement.”