Scam

to seeing the true solution.”
    “True solution?”
    Richard waved his hand again. “No, no, no. I’m not saying the cop didn’t frame you. That could be perfectly true without being the true solution to the crime. The solution to the crime is, never mind the cop framed you, who killed these people?” Richard looked at me. “Unless you think he did that too?”
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “Silly? Isn’t that the solution in some of those books you read? In some of those murder mysteries? The policeman did it—isn’t that a popular unexpected dramatic surprise solution?”
    “Richard, the cop didn’t do it. This all started way before he was involved.”
    “How do you know?”
    I blinked. “Are you kidding me?”
    “Not at all. You just told me flat out the cop wasn’t involved—I just want to know how you know.”
    “Look when he entered the case. It wasn’t until Cranston Pritchert was dead.”
    “So? Maybe he knows him from way back. Or maybe he knows the topless dancer or the talent agent. You happen to know that isn’t true?”
    “Richard, this isn’t helping.”
    “Oh? Sorry. I thought you asked for my opinion.”
    “I did. I didn’t think this was it.”
    “It isn’t. It’s merely one possibility. I have no knowledge, all I can do is throw out possibilities.”
    “Yeah, well throw out that one. You got anything else?”
    Richard didn’t appear ruffled. He put his elbows on his desk, put his fingers together, pursed his lips. “Well,” he said, “from the beginning I am struck with how convenient everything is.”
    I frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “From the minute you’re given the case, up until Cranston Pritchert is dead, nothing is a problem. For instance, he brings you an extortion note. Piece of cake. In no time at all, you manage to prove that he sent it to himself. Then there’s the girl. Is she hard to find? Not at all. You find her by going to just that one bar. She isn’t tough to find at all.”
    “Sure,” I said. “If Cranston Pritchert’s the one who hired her, it’s just like the extortion note. He asks me to find her, makes her easy to find.”
    “And why does he do that?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “And what is the original scam?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “No, you don’t. You also don’t know who is being scammed, although you suspect it might be you.”
    “Is there a point to this, Richard?”
    “I don’t know. We’re talking it through. But go back to the idea it was easy to find the girl because Cranston Pritchert set her up and Cranston Pritchert wanted you to find her.”
    “What about it?”
    “How did he do that?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “How did he make it easy for you to find her?”
    “He didn’t have to. It turned out the bartender knew her.”
    “How did he know that?”
    “He didn’t know that. It just happened.”
    “So the girl being easy to find was not his doing. Suppose the bartender hadn’t known her. What would have happened then?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I assume he would have found some way to tip me off.”
    “Makes sense,” Richard said.
    He cocked his head.
    “What if he did?”

46.
    S ANDY WAS SHAKING UP A mixed drink when I walked in. It was happy hour, and the joint was jumping. I stepped up to the bar, slid in between two attractive young businesswomen, and said, “Take a break, would you, we gotta talk.”
    Sandy dipped two glasses in salt, poured the young ladies margaritas, and said, “It’s a bad time.”
    “I know,” I said. “I’m afraid there aren’t gonna be any good ones.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Five minutes, Sandy. I think you owe me that.”
    Sandy read my face, didn’t like what he saw. He called to the other bartender, “Sam, cover for me.” He went down to the end of the bar, moved two glasses, flipped the hinged part up, and came out.
    “There’s a table in the back,” he said.
    I shook my head. “Outside.”
    His face drained of color. “Look here,” he said. “It wasn’t me.
    “It wasn’t you what?”
    “Snitched to the cops. I don’t know where they get their ideas. If they think you did it, that’s their fault. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
    “Oh, is that right?”
    “What do you mean?”
    We’d been standing close and shouting at each other. Now I took him by the shoulder. “I can’t hear myself think in here, Sandy. Outside.”
    He wasn’t happy, but he came.
    Out on the sidewalk in the clear light of