Scam

me what you were doing at the murder scene?”
    “I was talking to the suspects.”
    Belcher held up his hand. “Oh, no. Sorry. That won’t do. You see, you’re the suspect. These other people are witnesses at best.”
    I shrugged. “If you say so.”
    “Oh, but I do. We have a very simple situation here. You’ve been arraigned for murder. You’re lucky to be out walking around. Toward that end, I have brought you in here to offer you a bit of friendly advice.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes. Since obviously you need it. Let me explain the situation. You are out on bail. You know what bail is? I’ll tell you. For a policeman, it is a frustrating thing. You work up a case, arrest a suspect, and what happens? The suspect is allowed to walk around free. After a while, you start saying to yourself, why did I bother? That’s one reason why cops get jaded, sour on the system, you know what I mean?”
    No, I didn’t. And I was getting sicker by the moment. The guy was playing with me, knowing I was a friend of MacAullif. Only I didn’t know what the game was. So all I could do was sit and listen.
    Belcher held up his finger. “There’s one saving grace. About bail, I mean. You know what that is? It’s not irrevocable. A judge sets bail, a suspect walks. But ...Something happens to alter the situation, bail can be revoked. And the suspect returned to jail. See what I mean?”
    Yes, I did. The picture was finally clear. There was no need for Belcher to elaborate.
    He did anyway. “So here’s you. Out on bail, and what do you do but go prowling around the murder scene. Talking to the witnesses. Stirring things up. Makes you stop and think. Hey, maybe this guy shouldn’t be on bail after all.” Belcher stopped, looked at me. “But that’s just my opinion. What do you think?”
    Well, that was certainly a direct question. Not one I particularly wanted to answer. Still, there was no avoiding it.
    I took a breath. “I’m afraid you’ve got it backward. The fact is, I didn’t kill Pritchert, and I’m trying to find out who did.”
    Belcher shook his head. “Oh, no. Sorry. Faulty premise. You killed him, all right. Just like you killed the talent agent. The only real question is, which one is it easier to prove? I thought maybe you could help me out here, analyzing this evidence. I just have to tell you, it is so rare when we get so much evidence in one particular case. Or here, in two particular cases. The only real question is, which one is stronger?
    “Now, what’s-his-name—your client—Cranston Pritchert—we got a lot there. We got the gun, but we got the gun in either case. It’s unregistered—what a surprise—so we can’t trace it to you that way, but it happened to be in your car.
    “Aside from that, well, we got you on the scene. You discovered the body, or so you say. A convenient ruse, and not a particularly original one. Hell, practically every wife kills her husband says to the cops, Well, I came home and found him dead.”
    Belcher shrugged his shoulders. “Then there’s the stormy relationship. The guy owed you money, tried to stiff you out of it. Of course, he lied to you up and down the line. First about the blackmail note, then about hiring the talent agent. Enough to drive anyone around the bend.”
    Belcher chuckled. “And that’s just your story. That’s assuming what you say is true. And who’s assuming that? More than likely you and Pritchert are involved in some scam. And doing it together for the cash, which he is attempting to do you out of. It’s not surprising you might shoot him.”
    Belcher clapped his hands together, spread them wide. “But, hey,” he said. “That’s just Pritchert. The way I understand it, there’s a much better case for you doing in the talent agent.”
    “Oh, come on.”
    Belcher smiled. “So? Finally got a rise out of you? Good. I’m glad to see you’re at least paying attention. Now, the point I’m trying to make is as the evidence mounts, if you keep messing around, there is reason for revoking bail. See that? That’s my thesis. That’s what I’m trying to sell to the ADA. To get the ADA to sell to the judge. Let’s lock the guy up before he destroys all the evidence, so we aren’t able to make a case.”
    Belcher shoved off the edge of the desk, stood there, towering over me. I wondered if he was going to haul off and slug me. If his whole conversational routine had been to lull me into a sense of false security, before