(A/N: This is it. The conclusion. The extremely far-fetched and convoluted conclusion.)

CHEATERS NEVER PROSPER

Chapter: 5

Later that morning, news reports were high in gear reporting on the fire in the upscale neighbourhood the Whitworths’ house was situated. It apparently started in the upper bedroom, grim-faced journalists were reporting from the scene. Investigators were not releasing a cause at the time, but one occupant was found dead in bed. Next of kin was being notified.

I grinned when I heard the part that had it not been for the 911 call of an anonymous passer-by, the early-morning blaze might have damaged neighboring homes.

Of course, that ‘passer-by’ had been me...

On the phone once again with my associate that afternoon, I was told Jacob wired the final amount we’d agreed upon.

Good. Now there was just one more thing to do. That ‘anonymous passer-by’ had one more call to make, since the latest news reports had investigators looking for anyone who had witnessed the fire early that morning. I planned to do my civic duty and tell them exactly what I thought I saw…

It was around 10:00 p.m. when the call I was expecting came. My associate again. Jacob Whitworth had contacted him in a panic. He wanted help, desperately.

“Mr. Whitworth says the cops are looking for him. He wants to meet with you. He seems to think you can help him out,” he said.

“Tell Mr. Whitworth I’ll meet him exactly where we met the first time,” I replied. “Same time, too.”

“Will do.”

I smiled as the line went dead. Time for the final act, I thought.

Standing in the shadows that night had a somehow surreal effect. I was so full of anticipation about what I knew was going to happen next that I had to concentrate on keeping still. I made myself stop swinging my carrying case as I tried not to pace back and forth.

Jacob Whitworth arrived a little late. How disappointing. Just when I thought he actually did have one redeeming quality!

“You’ve got to help me!” he blurted as soon as he saw me.

“Why should I help you? I’ve done what you asked. You’ve delivered on your end. Our business is finished.”

“But…Everything is falling apart! Everything! You don’t know how terrible the past two days have been! My…a good…friend…was shot dead on Friday…and now the cops think I torched the house! Some crank called them up and told them they saw me leaving just before it went up!”

“Well, isn’t that what happened?” I asked, wondering if Jacob knew I was toying with him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you guessed by now, Jacob?”

 “What - What have you done?!” he cried.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you, Jacob?”

“No…” Confusion clouded his face.

“1984, Jacob…A very nice year, wasn’t it? It was for me, at least until I found out the guy I was supposed to be marrying was into some extra-curricular activities…cheating on me with some blondie named Cynthia. Does that ring a bell, Jakey?!”

“You!!” He was hit by total recall. “But…That was twenty years ago! How can you still-”

“Still be bitter?” I pre-empted him. “Oh, I’m not bitter, Jakey. I’m just making sure that things follow their natural course. You haven’t changed, Jacob. You were a cheater then, and you’re a cheater now. And cheaters never prosper!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“What do you think is going to happen when the police find out you were the one seeing Anita Geffen? When they find out the cause of the fire at your house really was arson? When the Feds come looking for you for bilking your business clients?”

“Wait a minute…How do you know I was seeing Anita…? Did you…did you kill her?!”

“It was Cynthia’s idea, actually, but no…You killed Anita. At least that’s what the police are going to think.”

“But - why should the police think I killed her?”

“Because she was blackmailing you, of course.” I pulled out one of the black and white photos of the two of them together.

“What?!”

“The police are naturally going to think that Anita threatened to go to Cynthia with this photo unless you paid her thirty thousand dollars.”

He blinked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But…”

“So-o-o-o,” I said in a slow, deliberate voice, as if I was explaining a step-by-step process to a child, “you wired thirty grand to her Thursday afternoon. But you knew that wouldn’t be enough for Anita. In fact, she probably demanded another thirty thousand. You knew Anita probably wouldn’t stop blackmailing you, so you waited for her outside the college on Friday. When she came out, you shot her.”

“This is insane! That’s not what happened!”

“But that’s what the police will think. And when the Feds come into the picture, they’ll put two and two together about the fire in your bedroom. They’ll know you needed that insurance money to pay off your substantial gambling debts. That’s why you torched the bedroom while Cynthia slept.”

I could see the wheels in his head turning. He was beginning to see the enormity of what I was suggesting. It was starting to look very bad for him.

“What’s more,” I continued, “you transferred an additional eighty thousand into an account before you torched the house. The Feds will believe it is a very nice little nest egg, just in case you were thinking of skipping town if things got too hot for you.”

“But – all that money – it was payment to you! Two instalments of forty for killing Cynthia! If I go down, you’re going down with me!”

“Actually, ‘all that money’ went into an account that was set up in your name by my associate. Plus, I’m actually a very respected person in this community, Jakey. You’re just a loser, and everyone knows it. And as far as Anita goes, my associate is just about ready to send more photos just like this one to the police. He’s the one that took them, by the way. His name’s Lamont Arnaud, and he’s one of the greatest private investigators I’ve ever known. He’ll tip the cops off about you and Anita. They’ll believe him, I think.”

“How…why..?” he asked in a bewildered whisper.

“I already told you: Cheaters never prosper. And now you’ve lost everything, Jake. There’s really only one thing left for you to do now.”

He looked up at me, a look of total defeat on his face. “What’s that?”

I removed my CZ 75B from my case. I handed it to him and turned and walked away.

Ten seconds later, I heard a shot, and heard his body hit the ground.

EPILOGUE

On Monday morning at 8:00 a.m., I walked into a familiar office on the fifth floor of the 17th Precinct.

“Hey, Detective LeTueur,” my partner, a fellow named Mort greeted me jovially. “How was the vacation?”

“Fine I guess,” I said vaguely. “I pretty much did what I always do when I have time off. I took care of a few odd jobs I’d been neglecting for a very long time…”

END