“Hell of a place for a pawnshop,” Tanner said quietly to Shaye.
“Vertical integration. You can experience an entire resort getaway—food, drink, shops, exercise room—and never leave your hotel. It doesn’t look like it from the outside, but Aces Up covers a city block.”
“So if you come up short for a bet, you can hock a watch or a ring or your lady’s jewelry without actually leaving the casino.”
Shaye nodded.
The red-haired guide used his key card on the door at the end of the hall. It opened onto a mezzanine of shops and restaurants. One of the shops offered jewelry and other portable, expensive items. Though it was richly laid out and discreetly lit, it was difficult to hide the fact that Brilliant Moments was a pawnshop.
Tanner took it all in with the eyes of the cop he was. The front was run like a jewelry store with a big side order of collectibles. People who got lucky in the casino could come to the shop and buy diamonds, guitars, solid gold watches, coins, or the collector’s case of Star Wars figures that had haunted their dreams as a kid. Unlucky people sold their personal Brilliant Moments for pennies on the dollar.
Vertical integration with a vengeance.
He wondered which back room was used to disappoint losers who found out that the $6,000 watch they had bought retail was worth maybe $600 cash right now in their sweaty hands. When all the shine was rubbed away, gambling was about losing money, not winning it.
“The dude who manages the collectibles section is back here,” their guide said. “Name is Fred.”
Tanner and Shaye dutifully followed their guide through a locked gate. The two salesclerks up front looked at the redhead before they went back to waiting for the next person, someone who might be a buyer instead of a guest.
Fred was moon-faced, dressed to gamble on the second floor, and didn’t glance up when the redheaded admin guy showed his two charges into the room and left, shutting the door behind him. Fred was giving a quick and thorough examination to a teardrop-shaped guitar lying on the counter in front of him. Next to the guitar, a laptop computer waited to research online databases.
Tanner suspected that the computer was backup only. People like Fred knew the difference between retail dollars and pawn dollars without resorting to machines.
“Best I can offer for this Vox is five bills,” Fred said. His voice sounded like Chicago, bourbon, and cigar smoke. His attitude was take it or leave it.
The tall, gaunt man with shaggy hair, worn jeans, and moccasins picked up the guitar and walked out a back door without saying a word.
“My turn,” Shaye said softly.
Tanner didn’t object. Fred wouldn’t be any more interested in Tanner’s L.A. badge than the guitar player had been in giving away his Vox.
Fred looked at Shaye like a man who was tired of questions. “Why did Ace’s boy bring you here?”
“I heard you had some 1932 Saint-Gaudens twenty-dollar gold coins.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Tanner moved like a man impatient to be somewhere else, and fully capable of kicking the ass of anyone who got in his way.
Interest flickered in Fred’s pale eyes. Then he gave Shaye his full attention. “And are you buying or inquiring?”
“Depends on what you have,” she said.
Silently Tanner cheered the society maven who had taught Shaye how to make someone feel like gum on a sidewalk without even curling her lip.
“Unusual pieces,” Fred said. “Sure you don’t want a coin specialist?”
“We’re here, aren’t we?” Tanner said to himself. His voice was pitched like he expected privacy, but it was just loud enough for Fred to overhear. “C’mon, sweetie, I told you this would be a waste of time.”
“Hush, sugar pie,” she said. “I want those coins. Preferably uncirculated. I was told Brilliant Moments had them.”
“When I think you can afford them,” Fred said indifferently, “you can see any Saint-Gaudens I have. If I had them. Which I didn’t say I did.”
As Fred spoke, he started cleaning his nails with a letter opener he kept at hand.
“I assure you, I am quite capable of buying whatever you have for sale,” she said.
“Then it’s too bad I don’t have any Saint-Gaudens, isn’t it?”
She turned to Tanner. “Your turn.”
“We’re not buying. We’re tracing,” he said. “Word is, you have what we’re looking for.”
“You have any ID?” the man asked without looking up.
Tanner dropped his badge onto the counter.
“Long way from home,” Fred said after a glance. “And we’re not in California, so I wonder why I’m talking to you without a warrant.”
“Because you don’t want to piss off your boss,” Tanner said. “I don’t care how much you paid for the Saint-Gaudens. I just want to know who sold them to you.”
“If I have them.”
Tanner spun the laptop computer toward himself, clicked up to the menu that would give him the search sites for the last week, and struck gold.
“You’re researching Saint-Gaudens for the hell of it? Starting Thursday?” he asked sardonically. “Lame, mook, really lame.”
Fred stopped working on his nails for a heartbeat, then continued. “I research a lot of things.”
“Uh-huh. Looks like you spent some time on dealers’ forums where they brag about how cheap they buy and how dear they sell coins. Your handle is Auric1953. Now, you want to do another lap around this track and make me call Ace?”
Fred sighed like someone who had a junk poker hand that wouldn’t float him long enough to get him to the other side of the river. “Yeah, I’ve got some Saint-Gaudens. And yeah, they’re fresh.”
“Your turn,” Tanner said to Shaye.
She smiled. “Thank you.” She looked back to Fred, who had given up cleaning his nails. “How did you hear about the coins?”
“Same way you did. Off the casino floor.”
“When? This post on the forum was made on Thursday.”
“Couple hours before I hit the forum,” Fred said, disgust in his voice. “I just had to shove some of their snotty noses in it.”
“And you got five of them for two thousand cash?” Shaye asked. “How much do they usually sell for?”
“Depends on the buyer.”
“According to the reaction on the forum,” Tanner said, looking away from the computer, “you made one screaming hell of a buy.”
“The guys who come here want cash and they want it now. We make good buys after we make sure the goods aren’t on anyone’s hot sheet. Ace would fire my ass in a heartbeat if he thought anything different.”
Shaye looked at Tanner.
“You have to take a copy of the driver’s license, right?” Blue eyes bored into Fred.
“Of course. Like I said, we’re legit all the way.”
“Then you won’t mind showing us the copy and the data from that transaction,” Tanner said, gesturing to the cameras he was sure were hidden in the ceiling.
“We delete every forty-eight hours. Storage doesn’t come free. And no copy of the driver’s license until Mr. Desmond personally tells me different.”
Tanner looked at Shaye.
“You’re right,” she said. “We should have started with Ace.”
Seventeen
Ace strode into Brilliant Moments, his shaved head in shining contrast to the dark silk shirt and wine-purple double-breasted suit he wore. Beneath the sheen of skin on his skull lay the outline of male-pattern baldness.
“Shaye,” he said, his smile wide and welcoming. “If you’d told me you were stopping by, especially with an out-of-town guest, I’d have arranged a full tour.”
He half embraced her and put out his hand to Tanner at the same time. Ace was thick through the body, but it wasn’t fat. He was built like a wrestler. Though he was stronger than a lot of men, he didn’t try to prove it with a crushing handshake.
“Ace Desmond,” he sai
d easily.
“Tanner Davis, Mr. Desmond. Pleased to meet you.”
“Davis—now I remember. You were at the Conservancy gala. You’re Lorne’s son, grandson?”
“Nephew,” Tanner said.
“I truly regret your loss,” Ace said. “Lorne was an icon to the valley ranchers. When he died, an era ended. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“Well, I really hate to bother you with this—Shaye told me how busy you are—but we’re trying to track down some coins that might have been stolen from Lorne’s house before he died,” Tanner said.
Surprise flickered across Ace’s face. “I hadn’t heard about that. What brings you to Brilliant Moments rather than the sheriff’s office?”
Fred shifted his feet behind the counter, looking like he wanted to curl up into his own belly button and disappear. He’d called Shaye’s bluff about Ace and found himself holding a losing hand in a game whose stakes were bigger than he’d thought.
“We got reports that some similar coins have shown up recently in a couple of shops around the area, including this one,” Shaye said. “There’s no point in bothering the sheriff when all we want to do is verify that the coins were sold to Brilliant Moments, and who sold them.”
“Of course,” Ace said. “If there’s a thief in the valley, I don’t want him anywhere near my guests.” He looked at Fred. “Have you any information about the coins?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I commend your discretion, but this is a special case. Please give them what they need. Now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ace turned back to Shaye as Fred hurried off. “I’d give you some chips and tell you to enjoy the casino, but Kimberli tells me you don’t care for gambling. How about an early dinner on me in the restaurant?” He winked. “I hear good things about the food.”
“That’s very gracious,” she said, “but we’re hardly up to the dress code.”
Ace waved it off. “That’s what private rooms are for.”
She quietly salivated at the thought. Her half sandwich at lunch was barely a memory. The food at the casino restaurant was justly famous. Despite her uneasiness at trading on the Conservancy’s connections, she looked at Tanner.
He was watching Fred with predatory intensity.
The pawnshop manager hurried toward them holding two enlarged copies of a driver’s license. He gave the first to his boss and the second to Tanner.
Tanner’s glance swept down the page, taking in information.
A hard-looking guy named Antonio Rua stared back from the driver’s license. Dark hair and eyes, five foot ten inches, thirty-five last February. He had a buzz cut, a scarred left eyebrow, and a stony jaw suggesting plenty of testosterone.
“Don’t recognize him,” Ace said, handing back the paper to Fred.
Neither did Tanner, but he had dealt with a lot of Rua’s type. Gifted physically, but not gifted enough, so they ended up finding dumb ways to make money, or got shot, or both. Along the way, there were usually some misdemeanor arrests. Maybe a felony or two.
Tanner folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you for your help and your offer of the best dinner in the valley,” he said. “But frankly, Mr. Desmond, I’m not feeling up to doing justice to your chef.”
“Call me Ace. And I understand. Mourning and a full stomach don’t do well together.” He turned to Shaye. “A rain check, then. I insist.”
She smiled. “Rain check it is.”
“Just so long as you cash it sometime,” Ace said as he hugged her gently. He turned to Tanner. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss. It was the valley’s loss, too. And if there’s a thief selling hot goods on my property, I’ll find him and let the sheriff know. I have a lot more eyes than you do,” he added, casually indicating the cameras concealed behind smoky domes and in ceiling lights.
Like all gaming establishments, on the premises of Aces Up the only places where you weren’t observed were the public restrooms and the hotel rooms themselves. Everything else was photographed and stored.
“Fred, send a copy of that license to Security,” Ace said. “If that man shows up again, I want to know.” He frowned. “He looked local, like maybe there’s some Basque blood in him.”
“There are Basques all over the valley,” Shaye said. “Ranching is in them as much as it’s in any westerner.”
Ace nodded and turned to Fred. “Keep those coins in the safe until I tell you otherwise.”
Fred didn’t look happy about losing all that profit, but he said, “Yes, sir.”
With a barely noticeable sideways glance, Ace checked his watch.
Quickly Shaye said, “Thank you again. Please don’t let us keep you. I’ll bet you were called out of a meeting.”
“Remind me never to play poker with you,” Ace said wryly. “Mr. Davis—”
“Tanner.”
Ace nodded. “A pleasure, Tanner. I’ll look forward to seeing you and Shaye in the restaurant very soon.”
The redhead passed his boss in the doorway to Brilliant Moments. Tanner wondered if Ace had his admin assistant wired for sound.
Neither Tanner nor Shaye said much on the way back through the casino and out the front door. The sun was well behind the peaks of the Sierras now, and even the warmth from the ground wasn’t taking much edge off the chill.
As soon as his butt hit the driver’s seat, she said, “Tell me we’re going to eat dinner somewhere. My treat. My stomach is gnawing on itself.”
He grinned. “Sorry. I just wasn’t in the mood to be the owner’s special guest.”
“Neither was I, really. Doesn’t mean I’m not hungry.”
“Is Wrigley’s still open?”
“Wrigley’s?”
“Fried chicken and biscuits. Decent salads. They’re soaking tomorrow’s chicken in buttermilk today. Rumor was they used it in the biscuits, too, which made them taste extra special. It was about the only place in town we went to on anything like a regular basis.”
“Must have closed. I’ve never heard of the place, and I’ve eaten about everywhere there is between here and Tahoe.”
“Damn.” Tanner sighed over the lost biscuits. “Antonio Rua—the guy who sold the coins—lives in Meyers. Or that’s what the driver’s license said. California license.”
“There are some good barbecue joints on the way to Luther Pass, back through Refuge.”
“You know your way around, don’t you?”
“Why do you sound surprised?” she asked.
“Because I never saw girls like you when I lived here.”
“Probably because you left before you were interested in girls.”
He shook his head. “I grew up fast,” he said. And then started up a chain of serial disappointments.
But he didn’t want to spoil anyone’s appetite by talking about his rock-stupid past.
“Barbecue it is,” he said. “Right after I make a call.”
She listened while he called Brothers and relayed Antonio Rua’s stats and license number, and Brothers promised to drag the name through some files and get back.
The car started—smoky, noisy, rough—but it started.
“Maybe we should take my Bronco,” she said.
“It’s in Tahoe. We aren’t. If you’re worried, I can swap this for Lorne’s truck.”
She muttered something about frying pans and fires.
He ignored her, driving quickly to the place she had recommended.
After they placed their orders, she fidgeted at the table, waiting for food. Tanner leaned back like he was in his favorite chair and had nothing on his mind but his hair.
“How can you be so calm?” Shaye demanded in a low voice.
“Other than you, I haven’t found anything to get excited about.”
“But we aren’t getting any answers.”
“Honey, I’ve barely started asking questions. I’m just feeling around for rattlesnakes in the dark.”
Sh
e frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Then don’t come with me on a rattlesnake hunt. I’ll take you back to your condo after we eat, then I’ll go talk to Rua.”
“That’s a lot of time wasted for you. From here, Tahoe is on the far side of Meyers.”
He smiled. “I’ve got a lot of time.”
But inside he wasn’t smiling. The more he thought about Antonio Rua, the more Tanner didn’t want her anywhere near the man.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That I’m going to talk to Rua alone.”
“No,” she said instantly.
“I thought you were bored.”
“Impatient, not bored. I feel like something’s gnawing at me. And you spend as much time looking in the side and back mirrors as you do watching the road. What are you expecting?”
“Just hoping to see that our questions pissed somebody off or worried them enough to follow me around. It would make my life easier. I’d lay a trap for the tail, spring it, and find out who set him on me.”
Shaye looked startled. “Does that work?”
“With amateurs.”
“How about today?”
“Nothing so far.”
Before she could say anything else, the server came and dropped off plates of pork ribs. Tanner had intended to eat on the way to Meyers, but Shaye had ordered ribs for herself, all but licking her lips. Since he wanted to lick her lips for her, he tripled the order and joined her.
He really was going to have to do something about those lips of hers. They couldn’t be nearly as wild and hot as they looked.
With quick white teeth, Tanner cleaned meat off a savory bone, wishing Shaye was on the menu. On the other hand, watching her fearlessly dive into the food was a sensual revelation. He had discovered that a woman who was afraid to get messy at the table often carried that attitude into bed. He supposed the haughty, touch-me-not routine worked for some men, but he wasn’t one of them and never would be.
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