12-Scam

by Parnell Hall

  There was a knock on the door and the cop came in. The one Belcher had sent to search my car.

  “Found something,” the cop said. He was young, eager, and, it seemed to me, a trifle apprehensive.

  “Yeah?” Belcher said. “What is it?”

  “You gotta understand, I wasn’t expecting to find anything,” the cop said, “so I may have touched it. I mean, if my fingerprints should be on it. I just put my hand under the front seat, and there it was.”

  “There what was?” Belcher said. “What did you find?”

  “This,” the cop said.

  He held up a plastic evidence bag.

  There was a gun in it.

  31.

  “YOU KNOW WHY YOU NEVER made it as an actor?” Richard said.

  I exhaled into the phone and looked at him with exasperation through the Plexiglas shield in the visitors room in the lockup. “Richard,” I said. “I’m in jail charged with murder. I’ve been waiting for you for three hours. That is not a great opening line.”

  “I got tied up in court,” Richard said. “The city of New York had the stupidity to suggest that a pregnant woman might have fallen down, not due to uneven pavement, but due rather to her increased size.” He shook his head. “Big mistake. Probably double the damages. Not only did I ridicule the position, I even hit ’em with the old sexist joke, you know, where the truck driver almost runs over the pregnant woman, shouts out, Hey, lady, you don’t watch where you’re going, you’ll get knocked down too.”

  “Richard—”

  “You should have seen the jury. I score both ways. I score with the joke because it’s funny. And I score off opposing counsel because I’m attributing it to him.”

  “Richard—”

  “Sorry. I just want to point out, I was having a real good day before you called.”

  “I’m sorry to spoil it for you.”

  “Are you? Well, you know why you never made it as an actor?”

  Good lord. There was no deflecting him. “No, Richard. Why did I never make it as an actor?”

  “Timing.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s your timing. That’s what actors need, right? Good timing.”

  “That’s comedians.”

  “Same difference. You need timing. And yours is bad.”

  Good lord. Richard must have rehearsed this routine in the car driving out. And knowing Richard, I wasn’t going to get a word in till I heard it. “My timing’s bad?” I said.

  “The worst. Look, here you are, charged with murder. Ordinarily, a murder case, I’d jump at it. But, guess what? I just finished a murder trial. And it wasn’t nearly as much fun as I thought it would be. Now you offer me another? Your timing is the pits.”

  “That’s real funny, Richard. You really cheer me up.”

  “Hey, don’t be such a grouse,” Richard said. “You know why I’m kidding around? You’re in here charged with killing that talent agent. Well, guess what? I happen to know you didn’t do it. So, whatever the case, it’s a minor problem, and one that will go away.”

  “You happen to talk to the cops on your way in?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “I was caught with the murder weapon.”

  Richard made a face. “Usually, a bad move. What possessed you to do that?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Someone planted it on you?”

  “Bingo, right on the button.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “I happen to know who.”

  “Care to share that thought?”

  “How does the investigating officer grab you?”

  Richard made a face again. “Well, now we’ll know if this room’s bugged.”

  “Huh?”

  “If it is, you’ll get a nice roommate shoves a shiv in your gut.”

  “Richard—”

  “What makes you think what you just said? And try to be nonspecific in your answer.”

  “Remember what I told you—about the personality clash involved?”

  “Yes, I do. You think that’s it?”

  “Why don’t I just tell you what happened.”

  “That might be a good idea.”

  “The cops had Mary beep me, sent me to an address in Queens. Turned out to be the agent’s house, she turned out to be dead. Turns out she’s got a second office in her home with file cabinets full of resume photos, and the cop sets me to work going through them looking for the topless dancer. While I’m at it, he goes out and gets a search warrant for my person and my car. The good news is there’s nothing on my person. The bad news is, there’s a gun in my car.”

  “And it must be the murder weapon, otherwise they wouldn’t have charged you,” Richard said. “Well, that seems simple enough.”

  “Simple?”

  “Sure. They’ll arraign you for murder and I’ll get you out on bail. Piece of cake.”

  “Richard—”

  “Only problem is, if the same gun killed what’s-his-name—your dead client—you’ll be charged with that too.” Richard frowned. “Two counts is bad. Plus, it’s a different county, so it’s a separate arraignment. With each judge looking at the other one.”

  “What do you mean, looking at the other one?”

  Richard shrugged. Chuckled. “Well, I’m arguing before this judge, Hey, my client’s no flight risk, let him out on bail. And the prosecutor’s pointing out you’re also wanted for murder in Manhattan—oh, sure, please do release him, Your Honor, because the cops are waiting to arrest him all over again on another murder count.”

  “Yeah, I know. So, what can you do?”

  “Hey, did I say I couldn’t do it? Relax. I’ll get you out. I just want you to understand. At an arraignment hearing, we’re not trying the case. The only points I’ll be making are what a swell guy you are and how you pose no flight risk.”

  “Not the fact that I might be innocent?”

  “Oh, no one cares about that. In the eyes of the law, you’re innocent until proven guilty. In the eyes of the public, you’re guilty the minute you’re charged. Who cares? In point of fact, you’ve been framed, but that’s incidental now. Even if I could prove it, I wouldn’t. It would be bad form, and it’s not what anyone wants to hear. No, you’ll be arraigned, you’ll be bailed, you’ll be back on the street, and if the case is as bullshit as it seems, eventually the charges will be dismissed.”

  Richard shrugged. “In the unlikely event this ever came to trial, then we’d have to take a look at the merits of the case. Of which there appear to be none. The frame’s clumsy as hell and it isn’t going to stick. I wouldn’t let it worry me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not in jail.” He pointed. “You, now maybe you should worry.”

  I groaned. “Hey, Richard.”

  “What?”

  “Better work on your timing.”

  32.

  MACAULLIF MADE A FACE WHEN I walked in. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  I shrugged and dropped into the chair next to his desk. “Where else can I go?”

  “Indeed,” MacAullif said. “I suppose you’re lucky to be anywhere at all.”

  “Richard was eloquent.”

  “I’m sure he was. Even so. I’m surprised they set bail.”

  “Bail isn’t punitive. It’s only to make sure you show up for court. Richard educated the judge on that point.”

  “I’m sure he did. So what’s the disposition of the case?”

  “It’s cases. As in two. I’ve been arraigned on two counts of murder, one in Manhattan, one in Queens.”

  MacAullif nodded. “Some days are worse than others.” He shrugged. “I’m not havin’ a great day myself.”

  “You been charged with murder?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, just wait. I don’t think this guy Belcher likes you much.”

  “No shit,” MacAullif said. He leaned back in his chair, cocked his head. “Weren’t you just in the other day? Di
dn’t I tell you a long story about this cop Belcher—how he’s poison, he’s the kiss of death, you leave him alone?”

  “Hey, he sent for me.”

  “Maybe so, but what were you doin’ before that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the case does not stand on the murder weapon alone. At your arraignment, maybe that’s all they told the judge, because it’s only an arraignment, so that’s all they need. But you think they leave it at that? You think there’s no investigation going on? You think no one cares what you did?”

  “Hey, MacAullif. I haven’t had much sleep in the last twenty-four hours, and frankly I’m not focusing very well. What the hell do you mean?”

  “Yesterday. Before the arrest. What did you do with your day?”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh,” MacAullif said. It was amazing how much irony he was able to invest in such a short word. “According to what the police have been able to dig up, you spent the morning calling on Amy Greenberg and Miriam Pritchert. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t those two broads have something to do with the late Cranston Pritchert?”

  “MacAullif—”

  “One would think so, since it seems that you tried to get both of them to hire you to investigate his death.”

  “MacAullif—”

  “No. Talking to you is like talking to a two-year-old. You hear what I say and do the opposite.”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  “Bullshit? You sit there, framed for murder, and tell me bullshit?”

  “Give me a break. The cops didn’t know I called on those women. Not when they set me up. That had nothing to do with it.”

  “Oh, no? Guess what? Miriam Pritchert, I couldn’t say, you could be right. But Amy Greenberg is another story. You call on her, give her the song and dance, and, guess what? She calls up and reports it to the cops.”

  “You’re kidding.” .

  MacAullif shook his head. “It’s in the file. And it’s in there before your arrest. When he calls you to that house, Belcher knows you’re nosing around.”

  “So he sets me up?”

  “Doesn’t play for you?”

  “No, it plays just fine.”

  “Sure it does.” MacAullif held up one finger. “He sets you up for knowing me—that’s for starters. I told you he would if you led with your chin. Which, of course, you did.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said. “What has calling on Amy Greenberg got to do with it?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” MacAullif said. He held up his finger again. “But. It connects you with the case. Again. The cops have gotta fashion a theory for the frame. He’s workin’ on it now. He may not have it set yet, but he’s collecting all the elements he can. You nosing around is a break.”

  “So he frames me?”

  MacAullif put up his hand. “Hey, did I say that? I certainly wouldn’t want to accuse a fellow officer of such a thing.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But that’s the case. So how does it happen?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the mechanics of it. If Belcher gets the gun and frames me with it, how does that come to pass?”

  “Come again.”

  “Where does he get the gun?”

  “He finds it at the crime scene.”

  “Which crime scene?”

  MacAullif raised his eyebrows. “Oh. So that’s how you’re thinking. Good point. The Cranston Pritchert killing.” He frowned. “But you found that body. You were there ahead of the cops. So is it possible that there was a gun that you missed that he found?”

  “I wouldn’t think so, but I can’t rule it out.”

  “Hmm,” MacAullif said. “In that case, Belcher finds the gun, decides to appropriate it before he even knows I’m involved.”

  “Unless he finds it after he came down in the elevator and saw you.”

  “Yeah,” MacAullif said. “I’m not keen on the theory.”

  “Me either. Odds are he found the gun at the agent’s house.”

  “I should think so,” MacAullif said.

  “So he finds the gun, conceals it, doesn’t tell anyone, and sends for me.”

  “You arriving in your car, as he might expect.” MacAullif looked at me. “How does he know which car is yours?”

  “He asked me.”

  “Oh?”

  “He asked me for everything, even the license plate. Presumably so he could get the warrant. But actually, so he could find the car and plant the gun.”

  “He plant the gun before or after he got the warrant?”

  “Before.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he didn’t do it himself. Search the car, I mean. When he got the warrant, he asked me for the keys, gave them to a cop, and sent him out to search the car. The cop came back with the gun.”

  “Wait a minute. He asked you for the keys?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So the car was locked. That would make it harder to plant the gun.”

  I frowned. “Yeah.”

  “But not impossible,” MacAullif said. “He’s a cop, he can get in a car door just fine. He could have a jimmy or a set of keys.”

  “That’s not it,” I said.

  “Oh?”

  “It just occurred to me.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure I locked the door.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. It’s a crime scene. There’s cops all around. I drove up, stopped the car, and got out. I know I didn’t set my code alarm. I may not have even locked the door.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Well, how the hell was I to know?”

  “Because I told you, putz,” MacAullif said. “I told you not to mess around with this. I told you to be on your guard.”

  “MacAullif. I know I fucked up. The question is, what do I do now?”

  “You shouldn’t do anything. That’s the whole problem. Everything you do, you just get in deeper.”

  “I’m charged with two murders. How deep can you get?”

  “How does convicted grab you?”

  “Don’t even joke.”

  “Who’s joking? You think Belcher will stand pat? Planting a weapon makes for a strong case, but not necessarily a convicting one. The prosecutor needs more evidence, you can bet Belcher’s gonna get it for him.”

  “How?”

  “He’ll make it up, just like he did with the gun. The thing is, every step you take gives him that much more to play with.”

  “So what the hell do I do?”

  “I’ll tell you what you don’t do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You don’t try to prove Belcher, framed you.”

  I frowned. “Why not?”

  “For starters, you can’t do it. And that’s just for starters.”

  “Why can’t I do it?”

  “Because you’re a moron.”

  “MacAullif—”

  “You’re a moron to even think you could. Have you stopped to consider what you’re up against?”

  “I know it’s tough.”

  “You don’t know shit. You’re dealing with a cop. Believe me, this one isn’t dumb. How do I know? I know because he’s still a cop. And to pull the type of shit he pulls and keep his shield, the guy is on the ball.”

  “So he’s smart. So what?”

  “So he’s smart enough to know what you can prove and what you can’t. He plants a gun on you, it’s a crude obvious frame, but try to prove it. What argument can you make?”

  “Argument?”

  “Yeah. Sell me. How do you know the guy planted the gun?”

  “I know he did because I didn’t put it there.”

  MacAullif made a noise like a buzzer. “Blah. Sorry. Self-serving declaration. Of no evidentiary value in court. You have to remember we’re not trying to convince you, we’re trying to convince an ordinary human being who doesn’t happen to be you. So let’s
start again. How do you know the guy planted the gun?”

  “He had the opportunity. He asked me to describe my car.”

  “That was so he could get a warrant.”

  “Fine, but it gave him the opportunity.”

  “Okay, say he had the opportunity. Why would he do it? What’s his motive?”

  “To get me.”

  “Why does he want to get you?”

  “You know why.”

  “Sure I do,” MacAullif said. “But you wanna start proving it in court? You wanna try to prove the guy has a grudge against me, you’re a friend of mine, and therefore he’s out to get you? Even if you could prove that—and that’s a big if—you think that’s the type of thing I’d like to hear aired in court?”

  “Oh, so I’m supposed to take a murder rap so as not to hurt your feelings?”

  “Don’t be a schmuck,” MacAullif said. “I’m just trying to tell you, trying to prove he framed you isn’t gonna fly. The guy’ll just sit back and laugh at you, and who could blame him?”

  “Yeah, but that’s what Richard has to do—create reasonable doubt.”

  “Yeah, and the operative word is reasonable. I hate to break it to you, but, Hey, I was framed, is not that original an idea. Hell, every other punk we pick up claims he was framed.”

  “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to sell me. But you have to sell them, and they ain’t buyin’. Now, this Belcher thing—if you can prove it, fine. But if all you got is what you got now, I’m tellin’ you it’s not a theory you wanna advance.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You find another way. Now, before you went out to this agent’s house, as I understand it, you call on these two broads.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “You take your car?”

  My eyes widened. “Are you trying to suggest …?”

  “If Belcher didn’t frame you, someone else did.”

  “But he did frame me.”

  “Can you prove it? If not, you look for something else. Now, these women you called on—which one was first?”

  “The granddaughter. What’s her name. Amy Greenberg. So young she makes you seem senile.”

  “Uh-huh,” MacAullif said. “And where’s she live?”

  “Scarsdale.”

  “So you took your car?”