Free Conman by Richard Asplin

hard-working, intelligent and gracious,” Scott turned the envelope in his small hands. “Punishing the lazy, rude and spoilt.”
    “What I do?”
    “In your little shop. The Siegel & Shuster photograph? No bidders yet I notice. I’d check your emails if I were you. Bound to have someone offering cash for a quick sale.”
    “Wait,” I said firmly, hand held up.
    “But don’t fret over it, sweetkins. After all, to some extent everyone acts as judge and jury on every soul they meet. Usually on nothing more than fleeting circumstantial evidence. Their shirt, their shoes. We at least –”
    “ You .”
    “ We give our defendants an opportunity to display their grace. A chance to state their case before we dish out a suitable sentence.”
    At which point I stopped him. I’d had just about enough of this. I can’t recall exactly what I said, being a little drunk at the time. Something like, stop, I’ve had just about enough of this I expect. I do recall I held a hand up like a traffic policeman which was unusually assertive of me. But frankly I wanted some answers. What was all this about ?
    Scott waited. He took a swig of water. He waited some more. About ? he said. Then, looking over my shoulder briefly, he fixed me with both eyes and told me. Quite calmly.
    Justice, dear boy.
    I blinked back at him. The restaurant paid neither his motive nor my blinking much attention.
    He said it again, something fluttering like a shadow across his demeanour.
    “Justice?” I queried, head thudding, “Sorry, I’m not sure I –”
    “ Justice . Man’s to mete out and man’s alone. Who else will even the eternal score? God ?” and he barked an angry laugh. “No no. There lies a long, cold, wormy wait for those hoping for judgement day, young Neil. No retribution is coming, no bearded magistrate waits in the wings to bang the almighty gavel.”
    “Justice for what ?” I said. “You’ve been ripped off?”
    “Ripped off, ripped apart, ripped to pieces,” Scott said. The mood seemed to have shifted. “We all have been at some time. Ravaged, raped and ruined. Dreams crushed, guts torn out by a harsh, unfeeling world.” Scott’s jaw ground, bitter muscles bulging in his cheek. “Posit love, for example.”
    “You what?”
    “You love someone and they don’t love you back. Happens all the time. Your whole world for three aching lonely years. It’s destroying. Agreed? Observe the sentencing though. You are destroyed, they are not. You are dejected, they are not. Is that fair? Is that justice ? Look at the crimes. My act is to see beauty in another and worship unconditionally. Their act is to reject this worship. To ignore, to pity and to condescend. But it is I who am sentenced to spend the rest of my days alone. While the one I love goes on, brushing the speckled lint of her guilt away with a laugh and a gesture.”
    I sat and listened.
    “The world we have created,” Scott said, sitting back a bit, chin up, “has scales tipped crazily off kilter. Good folk weep alone, sobbing at kitchen tables, heads full of their love’s face, the lonely night stretching out forever. And the selfish objects of their innocent desire?” He spat the word, spittle glistening on his lip. “Those who think they are better , are out laughing and drinking, sparing no one a thought but themselves . Now, Neil. In a world this crazy, someone must even out the score, don’t you think?”
    The table went quiet. I wiped clammy palms on my trousers, dizzied by the open wound of his confession.
    “ And ,” I said, my voice cracking. “S-Sorry. And this … this is why you do … whatever you do ? Because of … a woman ?”
    Eyes wet and weary, Scott looked at me solemnly for a beat.
    And then his face sagged, cracking a goofy grin.
    “ Naaahh , not really,” he laughed loudly. “Ha! I do it for fun. Shits and giggles. No more than that.”
    “What? But – ?”
    “Tut-tut, Neil. Too many movies dear,” he smiled, leaning over and