Scam

idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Yeah, sure. Well, there’s a parking ticket on your expense account.”
    He frowned. “What?”
    “The parking ticket I got while you were up here searching for the envelope that didn’t exist. Pretending someone dumped your wastebasket.”
    When I said that, his eyes flicked.
    I glanced in that direction, saw the wastebasket next to his desk. I took a step between him and it.
    “My, my. If this was dumped, you sure filled it up again fast.”
    I reached in the wastebasket, pulled something out.
    “Well, well, what have we here?”
    What we had was a cut-up copy of today’s Post. The dumb boob hadn’t even gotten rid of it.
    I looked at him, shook my head. “I cannot believe you left this here for anyone to find.”
    Pritchert glared at me a moment. I could see his mind going, trying to figure if there was any way at all to keep up the pretense.
    Apparently, he couldn’t come up with one. He exhaled, said, “Damn.”
    I spread my arms. “So there you are. That’s why I’m here. I don’t like being played for a sucker. If you’d like to clue me in, I’d be glad to listen. Otherwise, I believe my services to you are over.”
    Pritchert put up his hands. “No, no. Please. You’ve gotta help me.”
    “Under the circumstances, that’s a little difficult.”
    “No, no. I can explain.”
    “You sent the letter?”
    “I didn’t send it.”
    “I understand. No one sent the letter. But you made it up.”
    “Yeah.”
    “You mind telling me why?”
    “It was your attitude.”
    I blinked. “My attitude?”
    “Yeah. I told you my story. I told you I needed help. I told you what I wanted you to do. But you talked to the bartender, and you let him talk you out of it. You came back, told me looking for the girl was a lost cause. But you’re wrong. I’ve gotta find her.”
    “Yeah. So?”
    “So, I could tell you weren’t taking this seriously. I felt I had to do something to get your attention.”
    I looked at him. “You rigged the phony extortion letter to make me more diligent in my pursuit of this girl?”
    “I know it sounds bad when you say it like that.”
    “No kidding. But that’s the fact?”
    He took a breath. Exhaled. “That’s the fact. You saw my partners out there. You see what they’re like? They thought you were a client of mine and they dived right in. You know what they’re looking for? A loophole to steal you away.”
    “I thought you were all working together. I’m not just hiring a broker, I’m taking on a whole firm.”
    “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Pritchert said. “But you could be a major investor. And you know what a major investor is?”
    “What?”
    “A potential stockholder. A lot of our clients, they start investing with our firm, eventually they wind up investing in the firm itself. Sure, the money the clients bring in is all partnership assets. But if you become a stockholder, it suddenly makes a huge difference which one of us your allegiance is with.”
    “Yeah, fine,” I said. “But the point is, you lied to me, you tricked me, and as a result I spent a lot of time and energy running around after a false scent. If you’re not happy with the current situation, well, I’m not happy with it either. So, if you want to fire me, fine. The way things stand, it would probably be a relief.”
    Pritchert set his chin, glared at me. Made me wait.
    “I don’t want to fire you,” he said.
    I exhaled. Shook my head.
    “Too bad.”

12.
    S ANDY THE BARTENDER GAVE ME the fisheye when I walked in. I ignored him, elbowed my way through the happy hour throng to the far end of the bar. The place was packed. The clientele on the whole seemed well-dressed and young. The men outnumbered the women by about two to one. The women were generally attractive, though none seemed exotic. The spectacularly endowed young blonde obviously wasn’t there.
    On the other hand, it occurred to me, if she had been she would have stood out, especially in a tight tank top. So anyone who’d been there that night ought to remember her.
    I’m sure there were a lot of ways to play it, and a TV detective would have had no trouble coming up with one bullshit line or another. But I couldn’t think of a thing to say that wasn’t likely to get me punched right in the nose. I mean, this wasn’t a gay bar—a guy wasn’t apt to appreciate another guy asking him if he came here often.
    Which is why I fell back on that old standby, the truth. I took out