Scam

So you don’t go to jail.”
    “You think it’s gonna come to that?”
    “Who knows? But in case it does, you gotta prepare.”
    I ran my hand over my head. “Jesus Christ,” I said. “What a fucked-up case. You got me trying to prove things that never happened.”
    “Only as a worst-case scenario. But yeah, that’s exactly what you gotta do.”
    I shook my head. “There’s gotta be a better way.”
    “Actually, there is,” MacAullif said.
    “Oh? What’s that?”
    “Figure out who did it.”

33.
    K EVIN D UNBAR DIDN’T SEEM PLEASED to see me. He scrunched down in his chair as if hiding behind his desk and said, “What is it you want?”
    I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs, and smiled. “Just thought we should have a little chat.”
    Dunbar frowned. “This is most awkward.”
    “I admit the circumstances are somewhat unfortunate.”
    “That’s not what I mean. You were introduced to me as a prospective client.”
    “Would it help you to continue to think of me in that way?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Dunbar said irritably. “It was in the paper. Hell, it was on the evening news. You’re the one who did it.”
    “Well, now,” I said, “fortunately our judicial system is somewhat more open-minded. But just for your own information, I didn’t do it. Cranston Pritchert hired me to do a job. I did my best to do it, and, believe it or not, I’m still trying to do it.”
    “Oh, sure,” Dunbar said.
    “Hey. You’re an executive vice-president and you think you’re pretty shrewd. So think on this—if I killed Cranston Pritchert, what the hell am I doing here?”
    “Huh?”
    “Why am I here? What do I want? Let’s face it, if I’m guilty there isn’t a whole hell of a lot. If I’m guilty, I know exactly what happened. If I’m innocent, I have no idea, and I’m trying to find out. See what I mean?”
    “Yeah, sure,” Dunbar said. If he was convinced, you wouldn’t know it. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is you want, because, believe it or not, I have work to do.”
    “I want some information, and I want your opinion.”
    “My opinion?”
    “Yes. Here’s the deal. Cranston Pritchert thought someone was trying to set him up. To embarrass him and make him look foolish before the stockholders meeting so there’d be no chance of him being voted in as chairman of the board.”
    “There was no chance anyway,” Dunbar said.
    “Oh? And why is that?”
    Dunbar made a face. “Shit.”
    “Hey, relax,” I said. “It’s not like you just gave away trade secrets. What you said is exactly the point. If there’s no chance of him becoming chairman of the board, then no one killed him to prevent that from happening. One motive that I can cross off. But I’d really like to know why.”
    “Because who would vote for him?” Dunbar said. “Certainly not me or Marty. And the Greenberg girl—she’s a kook. Who knows how she’s gonna vote. Cranston couldn’t know either, unless he had her in his hip pocket. And, knowing Cranston, that’s not possible. So eventually it’ll all come down to the proxies. And, frankly, Cranston didn’t have that many friends.”
    “And you did?”
    “More than him. But, hey, nothing’s decided yet. The race is still on.”
    “Uh-huh. And what happens to Cranston’s shares now?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “In the stockholders meeting. Who votes his shares?”
    “Oh. His wife. I mean, his widow.”
    “You happen to know her?”
    “I’ve met her, yes.”
    “How do you think she’ll vote?”
    “That’s really up to her.”
    “Have you spoken to her since it happened?”
    “I called her, of course. Expressed my sympathy.”
    “And who do you think she’s friendlier with, you or Marty Rothstein?”
    “I would say me.”
    “You would?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ever take her to lunch?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Just curious as to how well you know her.”
    “I find the question impertinent. This is a married woman. Why would I be taking her to lunch?”
    “I don’t know. Just your statement that you were closer to her than Marty Rothstein.”
    “I think I am, but not because of anything such as you imply.” Dunbar shifted in his seat. “I don’t think this interview is serving any practical purpose.”
    I held up my hand. “I apologize for going off on a tangent. I didn’t mean to be talking about Miriam Pritchert. I meant to be talking about the proxy fight. My only interest in Miriam Pritchert