Scam

threatening to call the cops.”
    MacAullif shook his head. “Tough being a murder suspect.”
    “You wouldn’t believe. Anyway, that’s why I didn’t talk to Dunbar. Besides, I heard the story twice already. I couldn’t think of a question to ask him I hadn’t asked the others.”
    MacAullif nodded. “In other words, you fucked up.”
    “Hey.”
    “Anyway, it’s interesting. You talked to everyone but him and didn’t get arrested. Can we conclude it was him who called the cops the first time?”
    “I dunno. Can we?”
    “Well, it’s something you can ask him, if you ever decide to talk to the guy. Ordinarily, it would be a good deduction. Only in this case …” MacAullif chuckled. “It’s perfectly possible someone called the cops, but Belcher was too busy framin’ you with the fingerprint evidence to show up.”
    “That’s not funny.”
    “No, it’s not. That’s why you gotta start laughing if you wanna stay sane.”
    I put up my hand. “Don’t. Don’t do it, MacAullif. I passed punchy one whole murder ago. I’m at the state now, everyone I talk to asks me what’s wrong.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with you solvin’ a murder or two wouldn’t cure.”
    “How about three?”
    “Now you’re talkin’.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Solving the crimes would be fine. Would go a long way toward restoring my mental health. Only I really think I’m at the point that wouldn’t quite do it.”
    MacAullif frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “It wouldn’t quite be enough, just getting off the hook.” I took a breath, blew it out again. Held up my hand for emphasis. “I’m at the point with this son of a bitch Belcher, where getting even with the motherfucker seems more important than getting off.”
    MacAullif nodded his head, raised his eyebrows. “Now you’re really talkin’.”

45.
    “I NTERESTING,” R ICHARD SAID.
    I wanted to kill him. I just knew he was gonna say that.
    “Oh, is that right, Richard? You find it interesting that I’m being framed?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “I find it more upsetting than interesting, Richard. If you must know, it pisses me off.”
    “I’m glad to hear it.”
    “It also scares the shit out of me.”
    “I see. It’s big on bodily functions. Does it also make you want to throw up?”
    “Richard.”
    “You have to admit, it’s skillful,” Richard said. “I mean, to take a piece of evidence from one crime scene and insert it into another.”
    “It wasn’t necessarily from a crime scene.”
    Richard waved it away. “Right, right. It might have been from her New York office rather than where she was killed. No matter, the principle is the same. Well, what a neat idea. You have a serial killer committing a series of crimes. A cop wants to frame you for it. So he invites you to one crime scene, lets you handle some evidence. And it’s something there happens to be an identical copy of at another crime scene. So he switches the two pieces of evidence, making it look as if you’d been there.”
    “I’m glad it pleases you so much.”
    “Well, why not? It’s artistic as hell. This is some cop, this sergeant what’s-his-face. And an ex-partner in the evidence room—these guys are gonna go far.”
    “Can you prove it?”
    Richard looked at me, cocked his head. “Oh, dear.”
    “What?”
    “Is that why you’re bringing me this? Is that what you’re looking for now?”
    “Richard.”
    “You expect me to prove these cops are framing you?”
    I gawked at him. “Of course not,” I said, sarcastically. “I’m just going to sit back and be framed.”
    Richard put up his hand. “Temper, temper. Did I say that? I didn’t say that at all. All I said was, that wouldn’t be our line of defense.”
    “Why not? Attorneys do it all the time—my client was framed, the evidence was fabricated by the cops. They use it all the time.”
    “Sure they do. And you know why?” Richard held up one finger. “Their clients are guilty. That’s the bottom line. They’re defending some miserable motherfucker that the cops got dead to rights. So, what do they do? They claim their client was framed by corrupt cops. If he’s black, he was framed by racist cops. If the client’s a woman, she was framed by sexist cops. It doesn’t matter, it’s the same old song.”
    “Yeah, but it works.”
    “Sure it does. You know why?” Richard smiled. “Because it isn’t true. It’s a lie. The lawyers made it up. There are no such corrupt, racist,