Scam

and telling me to move on.”
    “Where was this?”
    “I’m not exactly sure. But not more than a few blocks away.”
    “What time was it?”
    “About nine-thirty.”
    “Nine-thirty that night?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I take it the girl was gone?”
    “Of course.
    “I see. Mr. Pritchett, exactly what is it you want?”
    “I want you to find the girl.”
    “Oh?”
    “That’s the only way I’m going to find out what happened.”
    “Why does it matter?”
    “Are you kidding? With the proxy fight going on? Something like this is all it would take for me to lose everything.”
    “Uh-huh. So you want me to find this girl?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Okay. What’s her name?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know?”
    “No.”
    “You didn’t ask her name?”
    “I did, but she didn’t tell me.”
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know why not. But it’s one of the reasons I think something happened.”
    “How did she get away with not telling you her name?”
    “She passed it off. Made a joke. Changed the subject. I don’t know.” He shook his head. Grimaced. “Women. I have trouble with women.”
    “So it seems.”
    “No, I mean relating. Even in business, women throw me. They don’t think like me. You know?”
    I took a breath. “Mr. Pritchert, I have an appointment.”
    “Right. Sorry.” Pritchert blinked. Then he stuck out his chin. “No, I’m not sorry. All I said was she didn’t tell me her name. Then you started arguing about it.”
    I exhaled. “Okay. Guilty. But the fact is, she didn’t tell. So you don’t know. Which makes her a little harder to find. So tell me. What does she look like?”
    “She’s about twenty-five. Blond hair. Short. Curly. Little turned-up nose. Blue eyes. Bright smile.” He frowned. “I’m not sure how tall she is—she was sitting on a stool. She was wearing a tank top and shorts. Red, the top was. She had large breasts. Very large. And a thin waist. A very attractive girl.”
    “Uh-huh. Now this was last Thursday night?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Why’d you wait till now?”
    “I wasn’t sure what to do. It took me a while to think it over.”
    “Nothing happened to prompt your decision?”
    “No. What could have?”
    “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
    “Well, nothing did.”
    “Uh-huh. Now the girl—I take it you’ve never seen her before?”
    “No.”
    “You don’t have any idea who she is?”
    “No.”
    “It didn’t come up in conversation? You didn’t ask her what she did?”
    “She didn’t talk about herself. It was all kidding. Small talk.”
    “Uh-huh. What’s the name of the bar?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What a surprise.”
    His jaw came up. “Hey. I don’t like your attitude.”
    “I’m sorry, but it would be nice to have something to go on. How am I going to find this bar?”
    “It’s on the east side of Third Avenue. In the middle of the block. It has a yellow awning. You can’t miss it.”
    “You’ve been there before?”
    “Sure. Many times.”
    “And you’ve never seen this girl?”
    “How many times do I have to tell you? No.”
    “Well, that’s something.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “It makes it look more like she was there just to meet you.”
    “Exactly,” Pritchert said. “That’s exactly right. So you see. That proves it.”
    He looked at me portentously, and I had the horrible feeling he was about to say it again.
    He did.
    “I’m being set up.”

3.
    “I T’S A SCAM.”
    I blinked at Alice. “What?”
    “Come on,” Alice said. “The whole thing’s fishy.”
    “Fishy?”
    “Sure. A guy goes into a bar, starts drinking with a girl, passes out, and wakes up on the street. He immediately concludes this has something to do with a proxy fight.”
    “Not immediately. This happened last week.”
    Alice rolled her eyes, turned back to what she was stirring on the stove. “That’s irrelevant. Or at least trivial. Never mind the speed at which he arrived at the conclusion, the fact is that he made the connection at all.”
    “You’re saying there’s no connection?”
    “I’m saying it sounds unlikely.”
    “I agree. So why do you say it’s a scam?”
    “That’s just the way it strikes me.”
    I took a breath. “I’m sure it is. Would you mind sharing your thought process? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    Alice tasted the sauce she was stirring, headed for the spice rack. “The proxy fight is bullshit,” Alice said.