Scam

from the front door, you do a good job and you keep people away from me, got it?”
    The cop who’d been assigned to ride herd over me was young, impressionable, and overwhelmed. He got it. “Yes, sir,” he said. I swear he almost saluted. He turned and marched to the front door of the lobby, probably hoping someone would come in it so he could hassle them.
    MacAullif wheeled on me, leveled a finger. “All right, fuckface, you’re on.”
    I put up my hands. “Hey, don’t blame me.”
    “Don’t blame you?” MacAullif said. “That’s a good one. Don’t blame you? I’m drivin’ home over the Manhattan Bridge at the end of an absolutely fabulous day. Spoke to the wife, and she’s got steaks ready to throw on the fire, and I can’t wait ’cause I’m starving ’cause I got hung up in the office listening to some asshole tell me a fairy tale.”
    “Everything I said was true.”
    “Oh, I’m sure it was. With a few minor omissions.”
    “MacAullif—”
    “So, what happens? I’m cruisin’ over the bridge, when what should come over the police band but a homicide: male, Caucasian, six-six, tentative ID one Cranston Pritchert.”
    “MacAullif—”
    “And if that wasn’t enough to ruin my dinner, they got a suspect in custody, apprehended at the scene, ID’d as one private detective by the name of Stanley Hastings.”
    “I wasn’t apprehended.”
    “Right, right. And you’re not in custody, you and that cop were just havin’ a little chat.”
    “Bullshit, MacAullif. I’m the one called it in, for Christ’s sake.”
    “Of course you are. What a schmuck. You think I’m upset about the suspect bit? Big fuckin’ deal. Everyone’s a suspect. I’m a little perturbed by the fact you phoned it in.”
    “I should have just left things as they were and skipped out?”
    “Don’t get cute. Is the ME up there now?”
    “I think so.”
    “You think so?”
    “I think the guy who came up when I was going down is the medical examiner. They hustled me into the elevator, so I can’t be sure.”
    “Yeah, well, I’d be very interested in the time of death.”
    “So would I.”
    MacAullif shook his head, waved his hands. “No, no. You’re not reading me, schmuck. I’d be interested to know if this guy was dead when you were in my office telling me the fairy story.”
    “He probably was.”
    “Oh, is that right?”
    “Like I said, I tried to call and got no answer before I came to you.”
    “And when you got no answer, you went up to the office, looked to see what was going on, and found your client dead.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    “Yes, you did. That’s how you called it in.”
    “Right. But after I talked to you.”
    “And that was the first time you’d been up there?”
    “I was up there yesterday.”
    “I mean tonight.”
    “MacAullif—”
    “The timing’s bad. Real bad. You come to my office, tell me everything about your client’s case. Including the fact you don’t trust him. Which is a little out of the ordinary.”
    “I had cause.”
    “If your client was dead, you had real cause.”
    “I didn’t know he was dead.”
    “The timing stinks. Look what you’ve done.” MacAullif pointed to himself, spread his hands. “I’m a fucking witness. They make a case against you, you gotta call me to the stand. I’m a witness twice over. I’m an alibi witness for the time you were in my office. Plus you’ll try to bring out what you told me about the case. You know how that would endear me to an ADA?”
    “Give me a break. You said yourself no one really thinks I did it.”
    “Did it, no. Knew about it, that’s something else entirely.”
    “I didn’t know about it.”
    “So you say. But what else could you say? If you found the body, didn’t dare call the cops till you laid the foundation. Rushed down to my office, fed me the bullshit line. Rushed back up here and called the cops. Well, guess what—we’d be right where we are now, wouldn’t we?”
    “That’s not what happened.”
    “When you were in my office you had no idea this guy was dead?”
    “None at all.”
    “It was just coincidence?”
    “It was just bad luck.”
    “Oh, no. You don’t know from back luck. But you’re gonna know from bad luck, ’cause your bad luck is just starting. Your first bit of bad luck is the fact I’m here talkin’ to you instead of sitting home in Bay Ridge eating a fucking steak. Your second bit of bad luck is the fact I’m now on the hook to talk to the cops