12-Scam

by Parnell Hall

“Yeah,” Belcher said. “You wanna try again?”

  “Huh?”

  “Give it to me again. How you found the girl.”

  “I told you how I found the girl.”

  “No, you didn’t. You gave me some fairy story about cabs and one-way streets. I’m askin’ you point-blank, how you knew that body was there.”

  “I didn’t know it was there.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Belcher said. “How’s your math?”

  “Huh?”

  “How’s your math? You pretty good at arithmetic?”

  I blinked at him. “Arithmetic?”

  “Yeah. Tell me, punk, what’s two plus one?”

  I blinked again. “What?”

  “Two plus one. Two plus one. Whatsa matter, these too hard for you? I’m tryin’ to figure two plus one.”

  “Would three be the answer you’re looking for?”

  Belcher pointed at me. “Harvard man. I knew with a little prompting, you could make the grade. Well, guess what? I talked to the medical examiner, and guess what killed the broad?”

  “It looked to me like she was shot.”

  “Good guess. She was indeed shot. Once. So says the ME. Pow. Right through the silicone goodie into the heart. Which solves my math problem for me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh,” Belcher said. “But you didn’t know that. Because you’re not indicted yet, so your lawyer isn’t privy to the evidence. But that gun we found in your car—the one that killed those other two—funny thing is, there were three bullets missing from it. We could only find two, you know. No matter how hard we searched.”

  Belcher nodded. Grinned. “I was gettin’ to think we’d never find the third.”

  40.

  “I HAVE A BIG PROBLEM.”

  MacAullif looked at me. “Are you kidding me? You have no problem at all. Here you are, arraigned on your third murder inside of a week, and you’re out walking around.”

  “I have a hell of an attorney.”

  “That I know. But it seems to me we’ve had this conversation before.”

  “I know. And I wasn’t looking forward to having it again. Only it seems your pal Belcher happens to have hit the trifecta. The lucky son of a bitch frames me with a gun, and it just so happens it killed three people. Now, what are the odds of that?”

  “In this case, pretty damn good. But this time there’s a saving grace.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Belcher didn’t do anything.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean to frame you. Belcher didn’t fuck around.” MacAullif put up his hand. “Put aside the fact he framed you with the gun to begin with—here’s another shot from it, that’s fortuitous, that’s something Belcher couldn’t have counted on. What I mean is, he planted nothing at this murder scene. At least, from what you say. I mean, you didn’t touch anything in that apartment he’s gonna be able to throw back at you later on?”

  “I didn’t touch a thing.”

  “How long were you in there?”

  “No time at all. He found the body, hauled me right out.”

  MacAullif nodded. “So, he couldn’t fake a fingerprint photo. He could still get you with a lift.”

  “Huh?”

  “A fingerprint lift. You know, you lift the fingerprint, put it on a card, label where it’s from. He could take a print from somewhere else, say it came from there.”

  “You think he’d do that?”

  “No, I don’t. It’s too clumsy, too obvious. There’d be photos of everything else. Here’s the one fingerprint isn’t photographed in place, shows up on a lift. Even a zealous young ADA’s gonna start thinkin’ frame.”

  I waved my hand impatiently. “Fine, MacAullif. What’s the difference? You’ll pardon me, but I’m framed for two murders, so what if I’m framed for three? If it ever got that far, the ballistics evidence would be enough to fry me. Never mind any corroborating fingerprint. If they can get any conviction of any kind, even obstructing justice, in one, they throw it in my face in the other. By the time I get to the third one, I’m convicted before it begins. Now, I happen to be having a nervous breakdown here, and I’d appreciate your help.”

  “It seems to me we’ve played this scene too.”

  “Yeah, we did, MacAullif. And what did you advise me to do? If you’ll recall? Who did you say might shed some light on the situation?”

  “I suggested you talk with the girl. At the time, it seemed like good advice. I admit, it doesn’t sound so hot now.”

  “I’m glad you concede the point.”

  “Only to a degree. I mean, let’s be honest here. Is the idea something happened to the girl really that new? You wanna tell me that never crossed your mind?”

  “I was concerned about her, yeah. But the idea that she’d been shot with my gun hadn’t really dawned on me.”

  “Oh, now it’s your gun?”

  “Well, it was in my car. Everyone else thinks it’s my gun, why should I be different?”

  “You’re getting yourself all worked up here.”

  “I’m not getting anything. I mean, Jesus Christ. I’m on a case here where I didn’t get paid, I’ve been framed for murder three times over, every lead I get blows up in my face, and everyone I wanna talk to is dead. Everyone else I talk to, I get arrested. Now, you wanna tell me why I shouldn’t be upset?”

  “I wouldn’t even wanna begin.”

  “Good. ’Cause there’s another thing that’s got me upset, and I’m not sure I understand it. I wanna run it by you. See how it goes.”

  MacAullif blinked. “You mean there’s something else?”

  “In a way.”

  “Well, you think you could figure out what way? Because, believe it or not, I happen to have my own case load.”

  “If I’m boring you, I can go.”

  “Don’t be an asshole. I’m just tellin’ you I’m pressed for time, so, whatever it is, stop dancing around and come out with it.”

  “Okay, but it’s hard, ’cause it’s just a feeling.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “No, it’s real, MacAullif. Christ, didn’t you ever go on a feeling?”

  “Don’t get me started.”

  “Okay, here’s the bit. After we find the girl, Belcher comes out and questions me. And the gloves are off and the mask is down. No pretense, he’s telling me straight out I’m fucked. And that he’s the one fuckin’ me.”

  “Yeah,” MacAullif said. “Well, if it’s just you and him, so what?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “It’s what I’ve been waiting for. For him to drop the pretense and acknowledge what’s going on. Instead of playing games. So he does, and that’s fine.”

  “And that bothers you?”

  “No, like I say, it’s what I was waiting for. But after he does, he starts grilling me about the girl. And everything he’s saying is like I killed her.”

  “Yes, of course. If it’s the same gun, now he’s framing you for that too.”

  “Yeah, I know. But that’s not it. The thing is—and this is what blew my mind—he’s questioning me like he really thought I did it. You see what I mean?”

  MacAullif frowned. “Not exactly. What are you trying to say?”

  “Just that. I got the impression, when Belcher was questioning me about the girl, that he thought I really might have done it. Which doesn’t compute somehow. Not with him framing me.” I shrugged my shoulders, spread my arms. “I mean, if he’s framing me, he knows I’m innocent because he knows I’m being framed.”

  MacAullif thought that over. “Yes and no.”

  I groaned. “Oh, great. You wanna elaborate on that?”

  “Yes, he knows he’s framin’ you,” MacAullif said. “But that don’t mean you didn’t do it. I mean, try the concept. Belcher shows up at the crime scene. Finds the murder weapon, shoves it in his pocket. When you show up, he plants it in your car. He does that to frame you. But he has no idea who actually committed the crime. So,
it could be you just as well as anybody else. In his own mind, the fact he’s framed you doesn’t make you any less likely a suspect. You see what I mean?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to like these theories. I just throw them out for what they’re worth. But you want an explanation for him grillin’ you about the girl. The way I see it, that’s it.”

  “You think he seriously considers me a suspect? A real suspect, I mean?”

  “I don’t think he did when he framed you. But the way things stand now? Think about it. Ever since he framed you, all you’ve done is run around meddling in the case. Granted, it’s a no-win situation—you’re framed, so you gotta meddle, and meddling makes you look guilty. With all your runnin’ around talking to witnesses. And then you lead him right to the girl and she’s dead. Well, hell, you’d start lookin’ like a pretty good suspect to me too.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You can see that, can’t you?”

  “I suppose so. It just bothers me.”

  “Hell, everything bothers you. You’re an analyst’s dream. If I were a shrink, I’d make a fortune off you, retire to the Bahamas.”

  “I haven’t got a fortune.”

  “Too bad. Is that it now? Or you got another homicide you’d like to throw at me?”

  “I was hoping for some help with this one.”

  “You were hopin’ that yesterday. I give you the girl, and this is the thanks I get.”

  “She wasn’t in the best condition.”

  “There are no guarantees.”

  “You don’t have another suggestion?”

  “What, I’m supposed to solve this case? You don’t have any theories of your own?”

  “I got theories. It’s just the more people dead, the harder they are to confirm.”

  “So, what’s your theory?”

  “I go back to square one. Cranston Pritchert claims he’s being set up. Apparently, that’s a lie. But what if it’s not? What if at least part of what he told me is true?”

  “What if it is?”

  “Then what was the original scam? That’s the question I need answered. That’s what I hoped the girl would know. With her dead, it gets tough.”

  “You were talkin’ theory.”

  “Right. Cranston Pritchert claimed he was being set up to make him lose the proxy fight. It seems far-fetched to me, but I got nothing else to play with. So I had my wife buy a share of stock.”

  “Why?”

  “So I could attend the stockholders meeting.”‘

  “When’s the meeting?”

  “Last night.”

  “You didn’t go?”

  “I was in court. Bein’ arraigned on my third homicide.”

  “Oh. Right. So, what happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was gonna go down, check it out. Only the last time I went by there I got arrested.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “I figured if I did it again, you’d tell me I was a total moron.”

  “You are a total moron.”

  “See what I mean.”

  “I assume you’re going to do this whether I advise you to or not?”

  “Unless you got a better idea.”

  “Oh, great,” MacAullif said. “I either solve the case for you, or endorse your line of action.”

  “Hey. That sounds pretty good. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “At least you’re in a better mood.”

  “I’m not in a better mood. I’m losing it and getting giddy. If I should start laughing hysterically, it would not mean I was happy.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind. On the other hand, if I should tell you to get the fuck out of my office, it would not mean I was angry. It would just mean I was through with the conversation, and had business back on planet earth.”

  I got up. “You want me to let you know how this goes?”

  “Don’t bother.” MacAullif winced. “I got a feeling I’ll hear.”

  41.

  “THE FIRST TIME I TALKED TO YOU, I got arrested.”

  “That was not my fault.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Jack Jenkins put up his hands. “It wasn’t me. I mean, come on. You were here. Did I call anyone? Or leave the room at any time while you were here?”

  “No.”

  “There you are.”

  “But you knew I was in the office. Calling on the other two.”

  “How would I know that?”

  “How would you know anything? It’s not that large a suite of offices. Are you telling me you didn’t know?”

  “I really don’t recall.”

  “Oh, come on. A precise guy like you. I bet you recall perfectly well.”

  Jenkins smiled, put his hands on the desk. “This is silly. Did you really come in here with a chip on your shoulder trying to find out if I turned you in? Is that why you’re here?”

  “Actually, it isn’t.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Jenkins took a manila folder off his desk, flipped it open. Took out a piece of paper. “This came in yesterday. Certificate of stock. In the name of Stanley Hastings. I’m wondering if that might be you.”

  “My name is Stanley Hastings.”

  “I’m aware that it is. Are you the Stanley Hastings who purchased this stock?”

  “Actually, it was my wife who purchased the stock. I believe she did it through a broker.”

  “I’m sure she did. So, this stock is yours. I thought it was. I rather expected to see you at the stockholders meeting.”

  “Something came up.”

  “So I understand. You got arrested again. Without the slightest help from me.”

  “Now, there’s a thought.”

  Jenkins frowned. “What?”

  “I hadn’t really considered you a suspect until you said that. I guess it’s just my nature. You tell me you had nothing to do with it, so I immediately think you did. It’s the self-serving declaration—it always sets me off.”

  Jenkins frowned, cocked his head. “Are you all right? You’re not making a lot of sense.”

  “I found another body yesterday, got charged with my third homicide. All in all, it’s been a rather bad week.”

  “The girl you found—was she the one?”

  “The one?”

  “You know. The one Cranston was looking for. Was it her?”

  “It was her, all right. What do you know about it?”

  He shrugged. “Only what I’ve heard. From you and from the cops. Cranston himself never let on. Secretive type. Pain in the ass. Well, I guess you know.”

  “Yeah. So, you wanna tell me about it?”

  “What?”

  “The stockholders meeting. The one I couldn’t go to.”

  “Oh. So you don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “What happened.”

  “I don’t know a damn thing. So, who won? Rothstein or Dunbar?”

  “Neither one.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So who’s the new chairman of the board?”

  “Amy Greenberg.”

  I looked at him. Blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Amy Greenberg is the chairman of the board.”

  “Whoa. Time out. Flag on the play. You mind telling me how that happened?”

  “Simplest thing in the world. And the fact is, I never saw it coming.” He shook his head. “Asleep at the switch. All of us were. The next thing you know, disaster.”

  “Help me out here,” I said. “I wasn’t there. How’d the meeting go?”

  “Fine, at first. No hint of trouble. Just like any other stockholders meeting. Except that Cranston and Philip weren’t there.”

  “Who was?”

  “Me, Marty, and Kevin. Miriam Pritchert, there to vote Cranston’s shares. And Amy Greenberg there to vote Philip’s.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, we’re about to start the meeting when Amy
Greenberg comes in. All bubbly and schoolgirlish. I mean, from her attitude you wouldn’t know her grandfather’d died. Let alone a board member’d been murdered. But no, she’s all, This is a stockholders meeting, what am I supposed to do?” He grimaced. “Damn. See, she’s even got me talking like her. That girl screws up your head. Anyway, I wasn’t sure whether to expect her. I had talked to her on the phone, of course, advised her how things were. I knew the other two were courting her votes, but she was being coy. I told her she had to either show up herself and vote the stock, or give someone her proxy. Well, like I say, she wasn’t giving up her proxy, so I said she should come. So she said she would, but that didn’t mean anything, because she’s so ditsy she wasn’t even clear on the day. So I don’t know whether to expect her or not. Actually, she’s late and we’re about to start the meeting. And then she shows up like a bolt out of the blue.”

  “And what happened?” I said, somewhat impatiently.

  “So, we start the meeting and I count out the proxies.”

  “You hadn’t counted them before?”

  “No. I thought I told you. I don’t like to do that. It puts too much pressure on me, knowing who’s got what. I always add ’em up right there on the spot. So that’s what I did.”

  “So, what happened?”

  He shrugged. “What happened was totally unexpected, on the one hand. On the other hand, if I thought about it, it was perfectly natural. See, you got stockholders all over the country. And they’re not really involved. You know how it is. Half the business reports they get, they throw ’em away. So the people sending the proxies in, a lot of ’em don’t even know Philip Greenberg is dead. They just fill in his name as a matter of course. He’s the chairman of the board, they always give him their proxy. So they give it to him again. Not all of ’em, but a lot.”

  “Do you mean ...?”

  “Sure I do. Amy Greenberg is there, voting Philip Greenberg’s stock. Philip Greenberg gets a shitload of proxies. Enough that, coupled with his personal holdings, constitutes a majority. Suddenly Amy Greenberg’s in the driver’s seat, voting over fifty percent of the stock.”

  Jenkins threw up his hands. “So what does she do? She giggles, she says something idiotic, like her grandfather would have liked her to keep it in the family, and she votes herself in as chairman of the board.”