Scam

sighed, said, “Well, that afternoon—when she walked into the bar …”
    “Yeah?”
    “She wasn’t alone.”

47.
    T HOUGH IT WAS ALMOST NOON, the young man who opened the door gave every indication of having been sound asleep. He was rubbing his eyes, his hair was matted, and there was a pattern from a pillow on his cheek.
    “What is it?” he mumbled.
    “Jamie Pollack?” I said.
    “Yeah?”
    I flashed my ID. “Private investigator. I have some questions for you.”
    If the guy had been more alert, he might have slammed the door. As it was, I lowered my shoulder, pushed my way in.
    “Hey, what the hell?” Jamie Pollack said.
    I found myself in a dark, cluttered studio apartment. It was dark because the shades were down, and cluttered because the fold-out couch had been pulled out into a bed. This left very little room to stand. I squeezed between the bed and the dresser, which left me practically on one foot. I tried not to look ridiculous, and addressed Jamie Pollack.
    “It’s about Laura Martin.”
    That woke him up. His mouth fell open. After a few seconds he said, “Who?”
    I waggled my finger at him. “No, no, Jamie. Nice try. But bad reaction time. You gotta come right in with the Who? Otherwise I can see you thinking it up.”
    He blinked. Frowned. Gradually waking up. “Who the hell are you?”
    “I told you. I’m investigating the murder.”
    “No, you’re not. I’ve seen you. You were on TV. Jesus Christ, you’re the one who did it!”
    “No, I’m not, and you got nothing to fear. If you did, you’d be dead already.”
    His mouth fell open again, and he took a step back and wound up sitting on the bed. That really panicked him, and he scuttled to his feet.
    “Hey, hey,” I said. “Don’t hurt yourself. I’m not a killer, I just wanna talk. You probably don’t wanna, but that’s good too. ’Cause I figure, most of all, you don’t wanna talk to the cops. And if you talk to me, there’s a chance you won’t have to talk to them. But if you don’t talk to me, you do.”
    Jamie blinked. Gawked at me. “I don’t understand.”
    “I know you don’t. So here’s the deal. I’ll explain it to you, and then you explain it to me.”
    “Explain what? I don’t understand. How’d you even find me?”
    I had found him the same way I hadn’t found her. The minute Actors’ Equity had opened this morning, Sandy and I had started going through stacks of resume photos. Luck had been with us—it had only taken an hour and a half.
    The resume photo Sandy had identified had shown a slightly cleaner-cut, wider-awake version of Jamie Pollack. The address on the resume was the grungy, one-room affair in which we stood.
    I didn’t feel like boring Jamie with all of that, though. I just said, “The bartender fingered you.”
    “The bartender?”
    “Yeah. From when you came in with her that day.”
    “What day ?”
    “Hey, Jamie,” I said. “I know all about it. We’re talkin’ about the bar where she met Cranston Pritchert. She went back there to tell the bartender to tip me off how to find her. You were with her. The bartender can identify you. Not that I want him to. Right now I’d be happy to keep this between us. But that’s the situation, that’s what we’re talking about. Why don’t we take it from there?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m wondering how much you know.”
    He put up his hands. “Hey, hey. I didn’t do anything.”
    “I’m not saying you did. In fact, if you had, I’d be mighty surprised. But you might know something that could help me. Maybe even shed some light on who killed her. Because, believe me, it sure wasn’t me.”
    “But you had the gun.”
    “Grow up. The gun was a plant. It’s a clumsy, amateurish plant, and it’s not going to stand up in court. But it sure is fucking things up right now. I can’t talk to anybody in this damn case, they don’t look like they’re gettin’ ready to duck.”
    He blinked. “The gun was a plant?”
    “Yeah, I know, that’s what they all say, but this time it’s true. I mean, come on, use your head. Cranston Pritchert hired me to find this girl. What, I’m such an over-zealous detective, as soon as I find her, I decide to kill them both? You’re an actor, right? Well, like, hey, man, what’s my motivation?”
    That jarred him. He’d probably asked some director that in exactly those words.
    “So, anyway,” I said, “just pretend for a moment I’m telling the truth. Now, the girl