Mystery Writers of America Presents the Prosecution Rests (9 page)

“A hook?”

“Yeah, a hook.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Like a pirate’s hook?”

“Not exactly,” Bass says. “It had these pincers that were curved on the end. He didn’t have any problem digging the money
outta his wallet.” Bass pinces his fingers together. “He was really…”

“Adroit?”

Bass frowns. “Huh?”

I dumb it down a notch. “Skillful?”

“Yeah, skillful. I never met anyone with a hook. We had a few beers, got to talking. He said his name was Cletus Rupp and
he owned a swimming pool business. He asked if I wanted a job.”

“Rupp offered you a job?”

Bass nods. “I told him I was an ex-con. He didn’t care. There aren’t that many jobs for ex-cons, so I said sure. The first
contract he gave me was the Toscars’ pool. That’s how I met Eve.”

I recall a picture from the society pages of a young, attractive woman thirty years younger than Toscar. “You got involved
with Toscar’s wife?”

Bass’s dark eyes look haunted. “Mr. Cleary, I didn’t stand a chance.”

I watch the tape spin for a few moments. “What happened?”

“I worked on the pool twice a week,” Bass says. “At first, Eve acted like I wasn’t there. Then one day she asked if I wanted
a drink. I told her I wasn’t supposed to drink on the job. She said it was just lemonade—and she wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Were you nervous?”

“Hell yes,” Bass says. “I’m not stupid. I figured she had something on her mind.”

“And did she?”

“Yeah. She wanted to know if I’d kill her husband.”

The tape runs out. I fumble the little plastic cassette out of the tape recorder, flip it over, and shove it back in. Before
I start the tape, Bass asks for something to drink. I step outside, talk to the guard, and he brings us two Pepsis. After
he leaves, I push the Record button.

“Mrs. Toscar asked you to kill her husband?”

Bass unscrews the top on his drink. “Not in so many words. First, she told me she knew I was an ex-con. I asked if that mattered.
She said no. And that’s when she told me to call her Eve.” Bass faces me. “Mr. Cleary, I’ve been in some nasty prison fights,
but when she said that, she scared the hell outta me.”

“What happened?”

Bass sips some Pepsi before replying. “She told me how her husband didn’t pay any attention to her. How a woman like her had
needs.” He takes a deep breath. “One thing led to another, and we ended up in bed.”

My heart ratchets up a notch. “Go on.”

“Afterward,” Bass says, “she kept telling me how much she hated her husband.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “This
went on for a month. Eve would say she wished we didn’t have to sneak around. I’d laugh and tell her she’d never settle for
an ex-con. She’d pout until I’d say I was sorry. It was weird, but it felt kinda good too. It made me feel… special.”

“So when did she ask you to kill her husband?”

“Last week,” Bass says. “I showed up for work, and Eve was crying, said her husband accused her of having an affair. She denied
it, but it didn’t matter. He wanted a divorce.”

I lean forward. “So what’s the problem? In this state, she’d get half in a settlement.”

Bass nods. “That’s what I told her. But Eve said there was a prenup and she wouldn’t get a dime. She said she deserved something
for all she put up with over the years. She wanted him dead and asked if I’d do it. She told me he kept money in a safe in
their bedroom. She said I could make it look like a robbery gone bad.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That I had to think about it. That’s when she mentioned the life insurance policy.”

This just gets better and better. “How much?”

“Five million dollars.”

I tent my fingers. “So once Toscar’s out of the picture, Eve’s a rich lady. And she wants you to come along for the ride.
Sounds like a sweet deal.”

Bass scans the cramped room. “You think?”

I shrug. “A fortune and a fine-looking woman to share it with. What’s not to like?”

“Murder, for one thing,” Bass says. “Look, I’ve made my share of mistakes, but I never killed anyone.”

“What about the evidence?”

“I told you. It was planted.”

“You don’t seriously believe the cops planted it, do you?”

“Doesn’t have to be the cops.”

That gets my attention. “What do you mean?”

“I think Eve got tired of waiting for me to make up my mind and found someone else. Cletus Rupp.”

“Are you serious?”

Bass nods. “When I saw Eve yesterday afternoon, she was hysterical. Her cheek was bruised. She said her husband hit her. She
said if I loved her, I’d kill him, so we could get his money and be together.” Bass picks at a callus on his palm, avoiding
my eyes. “I told her okay.”

I sit up. “Wait a minute. I thought you said—”

“I was just gonna scare him,” he explains. “Get him to reconsider. Eve said she was going to stay with a friend, so Toscar
would be home alone. She gave me the combination to his safe and said she’d unlock the patio doors. I got to their place around
ten thirty. There was a light on in the study. That’s where I found him. He was already dead. I got the hell outta there.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“With my record?”

I nod. “I understand. Then what happened?”

Bass drains the rest of his Pepsi. “I drove home. Around midnight, Rupp called and told me to meet him at the Shamrock. He
said it was important, life or death. I got there about a quarter to one, but Rupp didn’t show up until one fifteen. The minute
he got there, he said he’d followed me to Toscar’s place and he’d seen the body. He wanted ten grand to keep his mouth shut.”

“The amount the cops found in the bag.”

“Yeah,” Bass says. “I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He went ballistic. Said to pay up or he’d go to the
cops. He wouldn’t shut up, so I left.”

“But he followed you outside,” I say, imagining the events in my mind.

Bass nods. “He pushed me. I told him to leave me alone, but he just wouldn’t back off. He swung at my head with his hook.
I ducked and shoved him hard as I could. He slammed up against a pickup and dropped to the ground. He started jerking. I rolled
him over and saw the hook stuck in his throat.

“The cops showed up, and I told them it was self-defense,” Bass adds. “They arrested me anyway. They didn’t charge me with
Toscar’s murder until later.” He leans back in his chair. “And here we are.”

“What if they find your fingerprints on the hammer?”

Bass shrugs. “It means I used that hammer for some reason, and Cletus took it. With his hook, he wouldn’t leave any prints.”
Bass must notice the doubt on my face. “If I was gonna kill Toscar, don’t you think I’d be smart enough to wear gloves?”

I sip some of my Pepsi. “Then explain how the gym bag got in your car.”

Bass’s leg starts bouncing. “Cletus must’ve planted it there while I was waiting for him. That’s why he wanted me at the Shamrock
by one. He would’ve had enough time to kill Toscar, clean up, and dump the bag in my car.”

“But if he already had the money, why argue with you about it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“So you think Mrs. Toscar and Rupp set you up?”

Bass stares into my eyes. “Mr. Cleary, I know they did, but I can’t prove it. With Cletus dead, it’s my word against hers.
Who do you think a jury’ll believe?”

My silence tells him all he needs to know.

Bass slumps back in his chair. “That’s why you gotta help me. Look, I’m a two-time loser. If I’m convicted, I’m looking at
a death sentence. I need you to fight for my life.”

I stare into his dark eyes. “Mr. Bass, I’ll do all I can.”

The guard pokes his head inside the room and tells me my time’s up. I shake hands with Bass and promise him I’ll be in touch.
I exit the building into the early-afternoon heat and smile when I see the vanity license plate on my silver BMW:
SHARK.
Who says lawyers don’t have a sense of humor? I toss my suit coat in the back and sink into the soft leather seats. After
loosening my tie, I crank up the air-conditioning. The interior is cool by the time I leave the parking lot.

I turn on the radio. My fingers tap a rhythm on the steering wheel while I ponder Bass’s story. All in all, he has a good
grasp of how he’s been set up. Just not of
who
set him up. But that’s the beauty of this plan. After all, why would he suspect his court- appointed lawyer?

I take the exit for Channel Drive. A few cars pass me, but I’m not in any hurry. I know where I’m going and I know who’ll
be there when I arrive.

____

E
VE
T
OSCAR STANDS
in the front doorway clipping on a pearl earring. It matches the necklace around her neck. They contrast vividly with the
sleeveless black dress she wears. The dress is demure enough for grieving, but it clings here and there, hinting at the lush
body beneath it. Eve looks good. It’s something she takes for granted. Like breathing.

I step inside and close the door. “Where’s Inez?”

“I sent her home. She’s a wreck. She worked for Steven for a long time.” Eve brushes past me and heads toward the kitchen,
leaving a hint of her perfume in the air. “What did Bass say?”

“About what we figured.” I watch the way her hips twitch beneath the dress. Her jet-black hair is piled on top of her head,
and a few loose wisps graze her neck. Her cheek is bruised from where I hit her, but her makeup hides most of it. “He knows
he was set up—and that no jury will believe him.”

“He’s right.” Eve fills a glass with ice from the dispenser on the refrigerator door. She adds a splash of vodka from the
open bottle sitting on the granite-topped counter and takes a sip. She peers at me over the rim of her glass, her dark blue
eyes locked onto mine. “Want one?”

I drop my briefcase on the floor, pry the glass from her fingers, and set it on the counter. “I had something else in mind.”

Eve turns her head, and my kiss lands awkwardly on her cheek. A tiny ember of worry sparks deep in my gut. “What’s wrong?”

She smooths the front of her dress. “We don’t have time. The funeral director is coming by to talk about the memorial service.”
She avoids my gaze. “Besides, I’ve been thinking maybe we should cool things for a while, at least until after the funeral.”

The ember flares into a full-fledged blaze. When Eve showed up in my office six months ago, I confirmed the details of her
husband’s will: she would never see a dime of his money if they divorced. She profited only if he died. When I didn’t hear
from her, I thought that was the end of it. But two weeks later she called. During our follow-up appointment, I found myself
plotting Steven Toscar’s death. In my defense, it should be noted that my trousers were bunched around my ankles at the time.
Since then, I’d come to think of Eve as my personal 401(k).

So I don’t like the idea of my retirement plans going up in smoke. I put on my sincere face—the one I used on Bass. “Don’t
worry, everything’s under control.”

She sips some of her drink. “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t have to talk to the police.”

“What’d you tell them?”

Eve fidgets with the strand of pearls. “What we talked about. I was with my friend Anne. I came home and found Steven dead.”

“Anne will back you up?”

She nods. “Of course.”

“Good. Stick with your story and the cops can’t touch you.”

“They want to talk again. You said once they arrested Bass we’d be in the clear.”

I brush a stray hair off her cheek. “And we are. Look, with Rupp dead, there’s no way the cops can link him to us. As for
Bass, it’s his word against yours. And with his history, you’ll win every time. Just stick to our plan and you’ll be spending
Steven’s money in no time.”

She smiles. “I’m going to be rich. And I have you to thank for it.”

The burning in my gut fades. “Glad I could help.”

Eve inches closer. “You were so smart to use Rupp to find a loser like Bass.”

I shrug. “He owed me a favor.”

“Don’t be so modest,” she coos, molding herself against me.

Eve’s good looks distract a lot of people—you’d have to be blind to be immune—but her matchless gift is how special she makes
you feel. Bass nailed that right on the head. Pretty soon, you do whatever you can to hoard her for yourself. By then it’s
too late. You’re hooked, and you’ll promise her anything. Addiction is an ugly thing.

I smile. “It
was
clever.”

Eve nips my earlobe. “Very clever. And making sure you were assigned as Dexter’s lawyer was pure genius.”

My heart hammers against my ribs. We both know I’m going to give in, but my ego wants her to work for it. I untangle myself
and step back. “You know, you may be right. Maybe we should cool it for a while. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

She unbuckles my belt. “In that case, we should make this memorable.”

I grip the countertop. “I thought you said we didn’t have time.”

“Shhh,” she says, placing a finger over my lips. “This won’t take long.”

____

F
ROM THE MOMENT
we hatched our scheme, I planned to help Eve spend her fortune. That’s the main reason I sweated the details plotting Toscar’s
murder. Sure, love entered into it—the love of money. So I’m not a romantic. Sue me. Now with Rupp dead and Bass in jail,
all the pieces have fallen into place.

So I’m stunned when a herd of cops shows up at my house three days after my meeting with Dexter Bass. The one in front is
wearing an off-the-rack navy blazer and wrinkled khaki slacks, spotted with the remnants of his lunch. His thick-soled black
shoes tell me he spends a lot of time on his feet, and the bags under his bloodshot brown eyes tell me he isn’t getting much
sleep. He shows me his gold badge.

“Jack Cleary?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Detective Frank Hall. We have a warrant for your arrest.”

“Wait a second,” I say, backpedaling as several cops crowd past me. “What’s this about?”

He hands me the warrant. “It’s all in there, but I’ll make it easy for you. You’re under arrest for the murder of Steven Toscar.”