12-Scam

by Parnell Hall

  “Uh-huh,” Alice said. She zapped some milk in the microwave, added coffee, set it in front of me. “Here.”

  “At midnight? It’ll keep me up.”

  “It’s decaf.”

  “If it’s decaf, what’s the point?”

  “It’s hot. Drink it. So what happened?”

  “Someone shot my client.”

  “So you said. That leaves a few gaps in the story. You wanna fill me in?”

  I brought Alice up to speed. Which took a bit of doing. It had been a long day. Including my conversation with Cranston Pritchert. Him telling me not to call on the talent agent. Me doing it anyway. My talk with MacAullif. My discovery of the body. My ensuing adventures with the NYPD.

  “Good lord,” Alice said.

  “Yeah. And that’s not the worst of it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Apparently there’s no love lost between the investigating officer and MacAullif.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea. It was really weird. MacAullif s there bawling me out, Belcher comes down in the elevator. They see each other, they just stand there, glaring. Neither one says a word. Then they walk out to the street. Belcher’s back about ten minutes later. MacAullif never came back.”

  “He ask you about him?”

  “Who?”

  “The cop. What’s-his-name. Belcher. When he came back, did he ask you about MacAullif?”

  “No.”

  “Had you already told him?”

  “Sure. In my signed statement. I told him after I called on the talent agent I went to MacAullif and told him the whole thing.”

  “Before you found the body.”

  “Right.”

  “He didn’t suggest you might have found the body first, then called on MacAullif?”

  “He didn’t, no.”

  “What do you mean, he didn’t?”

  “MacAullif did. When he came charging down there. That’s why he came. He thought I’d done exactly that.”

  “And you hadn’t?”

  “Alice. Don’t make me prove an alibi to you.”

  “Well, it seems like a logical move.”

  “Good god, if it looks that good to you, think how it looks to the cops.”

  “Yeah,” Alice said. “Anyway, you told this cop about MacAullif in your statement?”

  “Right.”

  “How’d he react?”

  “Huh?”

  “The cop—you say he and MacAullif have a problem—so how’d he react when you mentioned his name?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “You didn’t notice?”

  “No. Why would I? I just found a dead body. I’m making a statement.”

  “Yeah, but if there was a big reaction. Like the cop said him! Or you’re kidding! Or started bearing down and cross-examining you the minute you mentioned MacAullif s name.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t. He was perfectly cool about it.”

  “But you weren’t looking for a reaction.”

  “No.”

  “So how do you know he was perfectly cool?”

  “I don’t. All I mean is there was no reaction that I noticed.”

  “But you’re not that observant.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Well, you’re not. You see the things you want to see. Other things go right by you.”

  I took a sip of coffee. “I don’t want to debate it, Alice. The fact is, I didn’t notice.”

  “Uh-huh. So where does this leave you?”

  “It leaves me without a client.”

  “And without a fee. We’re lucky you broke even.”

  I grimaced.

  “What is it?”

  “I had to pay off the agent.”

  “What?”

  “She wanted a hundred bucks just like the other two.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Alice said. “You said your client told you not to bother with the woman. But you did it anyway.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you telling me you gave her a hundred dollars of our money?”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “What?”

  “Calling it our money.”

  “Well, it is our money, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. But saying it like that—it’s like I had no right.”

  “Are you saying you had a right?”

  “I’m saying I made a bad guess. How was I to know the guy was dead.”

  Alice shook her head. “Stanley.”

  “Alice, if my client’s not dead—”

  “You would have paid a hundred bucks to find out he was the one who hired her. Which was what he was trying to keep you from finding out.”

  “Right.”

  “Think he would have reimbursed you for doing that?”

  “No, I don’t. But I think it would have been worth a hundred bucks to find out I was being set up.”

  “Why? What could you have done?”

  “I don’t know. The problem is, it makes no sense. Even before he’s dead. I paid a hundred bucks to find an answer. Turns out he’s the answer. But it’s the wrong answer. And it doesn’t make sense.

  “Okay, that was a little unlucky. Now I go and ask him to explain it for me and he’s dead. This is very unlucky. And makes even less sense. Yes, I’m a hundred bucks down at this point, but that would seem to be the least of my worries.”

  “Have you seen our bank balance lately?”

  “Alice.”

  She put up her hand. “Okay, I’ll drop it. But answer me this. Say the guy wasn’t dead when you went up there to talk to him. To tell him what you found out, that he was the guy.”

  “Yeah?”

  Alice shrugged. “What could he possibly have said?”

  Exactly.

  24.

  RICHARD WASN’T ANY MORE SYMPATHETIC than Alice. Of course, he also had an ax to grind.

  I’d stopped by the office to explain I was involved in a murder investigation, which might make it necessary for me to pass on some of his cases.

  Naturally, this did not thrill Richard. His position was I was working for him, and the police could go fuck themselves. This was not, by the way, my impression of his opinion—those happen to be his exact words.

  “Richard,” I said. “This is a little more complicated than you might think.”

  “Complicated? How is it complicated? You had a client, the client’s dead, now you have no obligation at all.”

  “I’m a witness.”

  “Big deal. So you get on the stand and you tell what you know. And you don’t have to hold anything back because you’re not protecting anyone.”

  “I’m protecting myself.”

  “From what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Well …”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “There you are.”

  I took a breath. “There are complications, Richard.”

  “What sort of complications?”

  “For one thing, MacAullif.”

  “What about him?”

  “I went to see him before I found the body.”

  “So you said. Would you mind telling me why you did that?”

  “Actually, because you’d gone home.”

  “What?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about it. MacAullif was a second choice.”

  Richard cocked his head. “Should I take that as a put-down, or am I supposed to be thrilled to be first?”

  “You can take it any way you like. I’m just telling you how it was.”

  “So what’s the big deal with MacAullif?”

  “He has a problem with the officer in charge.”

  “A problem?”

  “They don’t seem to like each other.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t have a chance to talk to him. They ran into each other at the crime scene, it was like MacAullif was banging his wife.”

  “Oh
, come on.”

  “I tell you, the two guys don’t like each other. What it does to me, I can’t begin to sort out. Same thing with MacAullif. Who might wind up as my alibi witness, if it turns out the guy was killed while I was talking to him.”

  “That could be sticky.”

  “Sure could. And imagine if I’d been able to get a hold of you.”

  Richard thought that over. “Well, thank goodness for small favors. So, what were you going to ask me if you’d managed to reach me yesterday and made me your alibi witness?”

  “I was gonna ask you for advice.”

  “Advice?”

  “Yes.”

  Richard put up his hand. “Pardon me, but weren’t you just in here asking me for advice?”

  “That was different.”

  “Different? It’s exactly the same. You thought your client was bamboozling you with a phony extortion letter.”

  “Which he was.”

  “Right. And I advised you to call him on it.”

  “Which I did.”

  “And the guy caved in and admitted it was his letter.”

  “Right.”

  “And here’s round two. Second verse, same as the first.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You want to point out a difference?”

  “Sure. When I called him on the extortion letter, he had an explanation. It wasn’t a great one, but it was an explanation. He was trying to motivate me to find this girl. Pretty stupid, but say it’s true. At least he’s got a reason. But this other thing—the idea he was the one who hired the girl in the first place—well, give me a reason for that.”

  “You got one?”

  “I haven’t got one I like. The only one I can come up with is, he’s trying to win the proxy fight, he wants to make it appear like the other vice-presidents are playing dirty tricks against him, so he sets this up, has me uncover it, and plans to spring it at the stockholders meeting.”

  Richard frowned. “I can’t say I like that theory.”

  “I hate it like hell.”

  “No, no,” Richard said. “I don’t mean the implications, the emotional baggage, all the crap you bring to it. I mean, as a theory, it’s not very good.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Well, the way it plays out, your client goes to the talent agent to hire the girl, right?”

  “Right.”

  “He goes there in person, up to her office, meets with the talent agent, arranges with her to hire the girl?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “He calls the girl on the phone, disguises his voice, tells her what he wants her to do in the bar. The reason he does that—uses the phone and disguises his voice—is so she won’t know he’s the one hiring her. Am I right so far?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “He goes out to the bar and plays the scene with the girl. Then shows up at your office and hires you to find her. Which shouldn’t be that hard to do, which is why he’s deliberately chosen a girl everyone will be sure to notice.” Richard spread his arms, rolled his eyes. “But, lo and behold, he’s chosen the one detective in the world who can’t find a girl with boobs the size of battleships. The man is absolutely astounded, and decides he needs to force the issue with a phony extortion letter.”

  “I’m losing the thread here, Richard. You were saying why this was a bad theory .”

  “Oh, it is. Don’t be thrown by the fact that my assessment of your competence sounds logical.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Anyway, despite seeing through the extortion letter, you redouble your efforts to find the girl and happen to achieve success. She tells you about the phone call, and about being hired through her agent. Your client commends you on your work, and instructs you to disregard the agent.”

  “So I won’t find out he hired her.”

  “Right. But how effective is that? I mean, the guy’s six six. If you question the agent at all, it’s the first thing she’s going to say, and you’ll know that it’s him.”

  “Unless he told her not to talk.”

  “Yeah, but she did. And he can’t count on the fact that she won’t. Then there’s the girl—what if she talks to the agent? Which is entirely likely. ‘How’d your date go?’ ‘The guy was a telephone pole.’ ‘You’re kidding.’ If they start comparing notes, you think they don’t figure it out?”

  I frowned. “I see what you mean. But …”

  “But what?”

  “Well, the guy wasn’t that bright. I mean, look at the extortion letter bit. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to crack that one. So if this was his plan, I’m not surprised it was full of holes.”

  “Fine,” Richard said. “So how does he wind up dead?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Me either. But if this is his plan, which he set in motion, there’s gotta be a place where it went wrong.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s dead. Unless he planned his own death, which I cannot credit, this was not the result he wanted. Therefore we must assume something went wrong. The only thing we know that was diametrically opposed to this plan was your calling on this agent.”

  “Shit.”

  “Sorry about that, but it happens to be the case. You weren’t supposed to call on the agent. You were told not to call on the agent. Once again, ninety-nine private detectives out of a hundred, if they weren’t being paid for it, wouldn’t do it of their own accord. But you, a prince among men, in the pursuit of truth, justice, and the American way, do it anyway. And what did you tell her?”

  “What?”

  “When you talked to the agent. I know what you got out of her. What did she get out of you?”

  “I’m not following you, Richard.”

  “You asked her questions about the guy who hired the girl. Why did you tell her you were interested? Why did you want to know?”

  “I’d been hired to find out.”

  “By who?”

  “I didn’t tell her that.”

  “No, but she can figure it out. At any rate, it gets her thinking. And, as I said before, she can compare notes with the girl. If she hasn’t already, after you leave, that’s the first thing she’ll do. She’ll call the girl up, say, Hey, what’s with the guy in the singles bar? Then they’ll start talking it over, and before you know it they’ll make the connection both guys were six six.”

  “So they rush out and kill him?”

  “Hey,” Richard said. “Give me a break. Of course it sounds stupid when you say it like that. But say they make the connection and the agent decides to contact the guy. Well, that meeting is not necessarily an amicable one.”

  “So she shoots him.”

  Richard grimaced. Exhaled. “Any statement in the absence of fact is going to sound stupid. But it’s not illogical to assume that the actions of this agent or the girl or both resulted in your client’s death. Whether they actually shot him or not.”

  “Can you give me one good reason why they would?”

  “Shoot him?”

  “Yeah.”

  Richard shrugged. “I can give you several.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. One: your client and the agent are in cahoots. He’s paid her a pile of money, but after talking to you she wants more. He won’t give it to her so she kills him.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “Two: your client and the agent are lovers. When she finds out he has the hots for this topless dancer, she shoots him.”

  “Richard.”

  “Three: the bimbo is smuggling drugs in her hollowed-out silicone boobs. Your client stumbles upon this, becomes a liability and has to be eliminated.”

  “Richard,” I said. “Are you telling me we don’t have enough information?”

  Richard shook his head. “Boy. Talk about rocket scientists.”

  25.

  I GOT BEEPED IN QUEENS at eleven-thirty that morning while photographing a pothole on Parson’s Boulevard. When I called in, Mary M
ason told me the cops were looking for me. That did not bode well. Nor did the address she gave me, which I recognized as Shelly Daniels’ talent agency. This was not going to be my day.

  There were two cop cars parked outside. I pulled up behind them and got out. Two cops on the sidewalk, who appeared to be joking about the all-male movie theater whose marquee they were standing under, turned their attention to me. One pointed at my car and jerked his thumb—I had pulled up next to a hydrant.

  “I’m Stanley Hastings,” I said. “I was ordered to report to this address.”

  I couldn’t tell if that meant anything to the cops or not, but the taller of the two said, “Wait here,” and went into the building.

  “What’s up?” I asked the other cop.

  He just shrugged, but I could figure it out. I had ever since Mary Mason gave me the address. Why anyone would want to kill a poor, second-rate talent agent was beyond me, but apparently someone had. No wonder the cops wanted to see me. I was probably the last person to see her alive.

  The front door opened and Sergeant Belcher came out. Without any amenities he strode up to me and jerked his thumb. “You know whose place this is?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Why of course?”

  “I was here yesterday. I gave you the address.”

  “You were in the office yesterday?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Shelly Daniels’ office?”

  “Yeah. Shelly Daniels’ office. What happened to her?”

  Belcher’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think something happened to her?”

  “Are you kidding me? You pull me off the job in Queens and drag me in here. There’s cops all over the place. I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t think something had happened to her.”

  “Is that right?” Belcher said.

  “Yeah, that’s right. You want to play guessing games hoping I’ll crack, or you want to fill me in.”

  “Interesting,” Belcher said. “It’s your opinion that Shelly Daniels has met with foul play?”

  “Foul play?”

  “Huh?”

  “You really say foul play?”

  “What are you, a comedian? You really give a damn what we say? I’m asking you some questions here, and I expect some cooperation.”

  “Fine. I’m here to cooperate. Just tell me what you want.”

  “I want you to answer questions without kidding around. What makes you think this person has met with foul play?”