by Scott, Lisa
Patti nodded.
“We’re going out to dinner tonight, so things are underway.”
“Bring your credit card. He’ll stick you with the bill. He always did that to me.”
***
None of my dresses screamed wealthy widow, so I went shopping and opted for a deep-blue silk dress that was sexy but not too slinky. I took a cab over to Grimm towers at 5:45 and told the doorman I was meeting one of the residents in the lobby for dinner.
“Very well,” he said, opening the door for me. I sat on a cream silk couch in the lobby, trying to slow my breathing.
At five to six, Junior walked in wearing a dark blue suit and tie. “Wow.” The words slipped from my lips.
He laughed. “I was just going to say the same thing about you.” He held out his hand and pulled me into a kiss. “Ready?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
***
When I looked over the menu, I was busy calculating how close my credit card balance was to my limit.
“What do you say to a bottle of champagne to celebrate our first date?” he asked.
“I thought the fried food stand was the first date?”
“Well, tonight feels like a night to celebrate.”
Wealthy widows wouldn’t think twice about a bottle of bubbly. “Sure,” I said.
After placing our orders, he smiled at me. “It seems like fate that I met you, at Neverland Island of all places.”
“Yep, fate. Because it’s not like I was there looking for you.” I laughed nervously. “Thank goodness for the Grease fest.”
The waiter came and poured our champagne. I closed my eyes and took a long drink, hoping it would fill me with courage. “I also went to the park because I’d heard about some place that buys and sells gold.”
Junior set down his glass. “Lots of places do that. Why would you need to find a place at Neverland Island? And why do you want to sell your gold, anyway? I thought you were very comfortable as a result of your husband’s death. Comfortable people usually aren’t looking to unload their jewelry for a quick buck.”
My insides twisted at the very legitimate questions. “Because I think it’s stolen,” I said quickly.
“What?”
Taking another drink, I nodded. “I have a suspicion my late husband bought me stolen jewelry and I want to unload it and forget about it.” Huh, not half bad. “Do you know of a place like that at the park?”
“There are a lot of dangerous people out there, Gertie. You need to be careful.”
I finished my glass of champagne, then another. I was waiting for him to take the bait, to ask more about my assets, but he asked me about my childhood instead. So we chatted about our school years and favorite birthday presents and games we used to play.
After dessert and several cups of coffee, the waiter returned with the black leather book containing what had to be a very high bill.
“Thank you,” Junior said, reaching for it. He pulled out his credit card, stuck it inside the book, and left it at the edge of the table.
Maybe he’s being more cautious this time. Maybe Patti spooked him, and he doesn’t want to rush things with me.
As we left the restaurant, I realized I didn’t want the night to end.
“Come home with me,” I said, my head spinning as we stepped outside into the sultry night air.
“To your place?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I’d never propositioned a man like that before. It was almost as if Slutty Sandy had taken hold of me.
Junior hailed a cab. “Grimm Towers,” he told the driver as we climbed in the car.
“Wait, no. No, let’s go to your place,” I said, panicked.
He frowned. “My place might scare you off until it undergoes a thorough cleaning.” He shrugged. “A hotel?”
“Yes, that would be perfect.” Why wasn’t I backing out of this? I’m sure Patti didn’t expect me to go this far. She’d be angry for weeks if she knew I was doing this.
Junior held my hand as we drove to the hotel. While he went to the desk to see about a room, I hid in the lobby behind a big vase of fresh exotic flowers. I let the alcohol keep my rational thoughts at bay. If it weren’t for the champagne, I’d be running out the door instead of peering from behind stargazer lilies.
Junior took my hand, and we rode the elevator up to the ninth floor. He opened the door and flicked on the light, revealing a beautiful room. I didn’t have time to check it out. We were kissing on the bed in moments. Once I managed to pull away from his remarkable lips, my common sense found its way to the surface. I gasped for air. “I don’t even know your name. Not your real name.”
He propped himself on one elbow. “Because I know yours, right, Gertie?”
I sighed and flopped back on the bed. “It’s Colleen. I was being cautious.”
He grinned. “You look like a Colleen. And everyone calls me Junior. But my mother named me Frank.”
Frank. What was that name? “Franken Stein Skin? Frankel Spiel Spawn?” I mused.
“What?” he asked.
“What?” I said. Oh my gosh. Had I said those names out loud?
“What did you call me? Franken Spill Spoon? Are you making fun of my name?” He poked me in the rib. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No!” I did what any smart woman does when a change of subject is in order. I pulled him down on top of me and kissed him.
His hand trailed along my back, taking the zipper down with it. I panicked for a moment, then remembered I was doing this for Patti. Because even if I couldn’t turn him in to the police, at the very least, I could try to break his heart.
If mine didn’t get broken first.
***
We spent the next few days together, and I kept dodging Patti’s calls. How could I explain what I was doing? “I’m getting closer,” I texted her a few times. The season was ending, and I had to try to catch him at his game before the operation was over. Our time together was almost up.
We were sharing a lemon ice outside his booth when I brought up the issue of the gold again. “Remember you said you could help me sell my gold? I’m ready to do that now.”
He set down the cup of ice. “Are you sure?”
“Why not?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “No reason. And the timing is right. The guy I know is wrapping things up now that the season is over. Why don’t you bring what you want to sell with you tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
***
I didn’t have much gold. I had a few pieces of jewelry my grandmother gave me before she died, and the rings and pendants my mother unloaded over the years, explaining how she didn’t wear them anymore. I called Patti. “I’m going to bust him tomorrow.”
“Go girl. You can do it. Bust him good.”
Already been doing that, I thought.
I logged onto my computer and spent a few hours searching the Internet for different gold scams, because I had no idea what he would try to do the next day. My heart sagged as I realized I would be exposing Junior for who he really was: Rankled Sneel Spin, the con artist.
***
Junior greeted me with a kiss the next morning. For a guy who was about to rip me off in some way, he didn’t act differently at all. “Did you bring your jewelry?”
“I did.”
“Let me close up here, and we’ll head over to the shop.” He shut the metal gate and locked the door.
We walked over to the jewelry shop. I set my pouch of gold on the counter, hoping no one saw how badly my hands shook.
“We’re here to see Ronnie,” Junior said.
“Just a sec.” The girl behind the counter set aside her magazine and disappeared behind the curtain.
I tried to slow my breathing, to remain calm, but I wasn’t exactly sure how I was supposed to bust Junior. Grab my jewelry and run once I figured out what he was up to? I’d have to be ready to call his bluff.
A short guy with a cheesy grin came out to th
e counter. “How you guys doing?” He looked familiar, and I realized he was the guy with the ponytail I’d spotted the first day.
Junior shook his hand. “We’re good, Ronnie. This is my friend, Gertie. She’s got jewelry to sell.”
“Why don’t you come on back?” Ronnie held the curtain aside, and we pushed through a swinging wooden door to join him behind the counter.
Ronnie sat at a desk, while Junior and I plopped into cheap plastic chairs in front of him.
“So, what do you got for me?” Ronnie asked.
I looked at Junior and he nodded, so I handed over the bag. “Some old jewelry I want to sell.” My throat tightened as I thought about the trinkets my mother had left me. I could very well lose them.
Ronnie examined them and weighed them, then put them carefully back into the bag. He folded his hands in front of him and smiled. “You’ve got about four thousand dollars worth here just in scrap metal. But some of that jewelry might be more valuable on the resale market. Some nice old pieces. Unfortunately, I’m short on cash at the moment. But…” He held up a finger. “I just got in some gold bullion. I could offer that as payment instead.”
My heart kicked into gear. This was the scam. I’d read about this. The bullion wasn’t real gold. In fact, it was worthless. I snatched my bag off the desk and turned to Junior, glaring at him. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
Junior’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“You may have scammed my sister, but you’re not scamming me…” What the hell was his name? “Rumple Stilt Skin.”
Ronnie popped up from his seat and looked around nervously. “Who told you?”
“About him?” I pointed to Junior. “My sister, Patti. You stole her heart then her money for an investment you never intended to make. And now I’m calling the police because you’re trying to pass fake gold on to me.” I fumbled for my phone.
Junior stood, too, and pulled a gun from his pocket.
I dropped my phone and held my hands in the air.
But he wasn’t looking at me. The gun was aimed at Ronnie. “Hold it right there, Rumpy.”
What the hell? I pointed to Ronnie. “He’s Rumpled Skills Bin?”
“Rumple Stilt Skin. Stupid nickname, by the way. And I was about to bust him for passing off fake bullion for the real thing. I’ve been watching him all summer, waiting for a break like this. I didn’t want to involve you, but you were my last hope for a bust.”
Ronnie’s eyes darted between me, Junior, and the door.
“So, you’re a cop,” I said to Junior.
“Yup.”
“And not a con-artist.”
“Nope.”
“But Patti told me the guy who scammed her was really hot.” I jabbed a thumb at Ronnie. “He’s not hot.” Ronnie did have dark hair and blue eyes, but they were kind of squinty. I wasn’t even sure he had cheekbones. And he was short.
“Hey,” Ronnie said, sounding hurt.
Junior grinned, still holding the gun on Ronnie. “You think I’m hot? Cause I usually get ‘cute.’” He made a face. “I hate cute.”
“Uh, yeah, you are definitely hot.”
Ronnie took advantage of the distraction to run out the back door, and Junior took off after him.
I swore, realizing how truly and thoroughly I had screwed everything up. I ran out the back door, too, and saw Junior go after Ronnie toward the midway where a wall of people had lined up for the farewell parade. Pumping my arms, I chased after them. Ronnie turned left, running in the same direction as the parade goers. Junior followed, pushing his way through the crowd.
But then Ronnie turned and began to run the other way, shielded by a pair of beautiful white horses. Junior didn’t see him change direction and kept running the wrong way.
“Junior!” I shouted, but he didn’t hear me over the parade music and the cheering crowd. So I ran after Ronnie.
He became tangled up in a pack of clowns, so I caught up to him quickly. He tried to pull a woman who had incredibly long hair off a horse, but all he ended up with was her wig. For a moment I thought she was naked, but she was wearing a nude-colored bikini.
Finally, I was closing in on the despicable scammer. I took a running leap and plowed into him. He knocked down a few innocent victims before crashing into a vending cart. A jar of pickles fell on his head, and it cracked open, spilling onto his face.
He howled as the brine poured into his eyes. His flailing arms became entangled in the wig’s long tresses.
“What did you do with my sister’s money?” I demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, trying to free himself from the hair.
I grabbed another pickle jar from the cart and held it over his head. “Think harder.”
Holding up his hands he whimpered, “I’ve got it. I’ve got the money. I can get it.”
Junior ran up behind me and aimed his gun at Ronnie. “Don’t move.”
The parade had come to a stop, and hundreds of people stared at our scene. The pungent odor of spilled vinegar filled the air. A few cops rushed up with their guns and pointed them at Ronnie. The older man and woman standing behind the vending cart were frozen to the spot, mouths agape.
A tall, redheaded guy ran up to them, a beautiful redhead on his heels. You don’t see two redheads together very often, I realized. “What’s going on here officer? I’m Eric Prince, manager of the park. This is my assistant, Elle.”
Junior was out of breath. “This guy’s been running a gold-buying scam at the jewelry shop. He’s been pulling off cons around town for years.”
The redheaded assistant, Elle, was helping the people who’d been knocked over in the scuffle.
One of the men was on his feet now, examining a woman rubbing her head. I bit my lip, hoping no one had gotten hurt because of me.
“Give us some space,” he said. “This woman needs medical attention.” He held up four fingers. “Aurora, how many fingers am I holding up?”
She slapped his hand away. “Thirteen,” she said sarcastically. “J.D., I’m fine.”
“You were in a coma a month ago. You have to be careful.” The guy’s eyes were wide with concern.
“Should I call a doctor?” the manager asked.
“I am a doctor.”
The woman named Aurora stood up. “You’re the park manager? We need to talk. We want to have our wedding here next year.”
Elle sucked in a breath. “Aurora! You know my sister, Ariel.” The two women hugged. “Destination weddings. I never thought about having something like that here. Come on, let’s talk.”
The women walked off together, and the doctor turned to examine Ronnie’s head.
As officers cuffed Ronnie, Junior walked over to me and crossed his arms. “I knew you were up to something. I just couldn’t figure out what. I never imagined you had me pegged for a criminal.”
I studied the ground. “It was hard for me to believe you were. But you fit the description. You said, ‘Yo,’ and you disappeared all the time. And I tailed you to the jewelry shop. My sister knew her ex was running some sort of gold scam here. Plus, you wouldn’t let me take your picture.
“I’m an undercover cop. Natural reaction,” he explained.
“At the time it all added up to you doing illegal activity.” My lower lip wobbled, a good sign tears were on their way. I bit my cheek to hold them back. “I’m sorry.”
“I am, too. I liked you from the moment you walked up to me.”
I was too choked up to say anything.
The manager came over to us. “So, is this guy dangerous?” he asked, pointing to Ronnie.
Junior laughed. “Rumpy? No way. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t be scared of this guy.”
Ronnie continued to sit on the ground while the doctor looked him over. “Oh, yeah?” Ronnie grumbled. “Ever heard of The Woodsman? Down in Goose Valley? That was me, and I scared plenty of people.” He narrowed his eyes and tipped up his chin.
; “You’re the woodsman?” The old woman cleaning up broken pickle jars balled her fists. She grabbed another jar and hurled it at him. Lucky for Ronnie, she either had bad eyesight or lousy aim. “You started the fire that killed my husband and son.”
Ronnie held up his shackled hands. “That wasn’t me, honest! Wasn’t that an accident? That’s what I always heard. I never did anything to hurt anyone. I was just a dumb teenager, playing pranks. Vandalized stuff, stole a few things. I wanted to scare people with that stupid cape I wore. I was just a kid.”
Another jar went crashing next to Ronnie, this time from a young woman. The big blond guy stuck a fist in Ronnie’s face. “Hans, I’ll handle this,” the woman said. She turned back to Ronnie. “Do you know how many nightmares you caused me? And all the kids in Goose Valley?”
“I’m sorry!” Ronnie howled.
The big, blond guy put his arm around the girl. “Greta, he’s not worth it. Let’s help your mom clean up this mess.” He stooped down and started picking up glass and pickles.
The doctor pushed Ronnie back to the ground. “Hey!” Ronnie cried. “Wanna take it easy, doc?”
“We’re from Goose Valley, too. We were scared to death of The Woodsman when we were kids.”
Junior was doing his best not to laugh. “Don’t worry, we’ll be in contact with police there. He’ll pay for what he’s done.” He looked at me. “And we’ll get your sister’s money back.”
Another jar went flying toward Ronnie. “What the hell?” he hollered.
The woman who’d been riding the horse snatched her tangled wig from his arms. “Give me back my wig. I can’t be Lady Godiva without the hair.”
***
It took a while for Junior to take down statements from everyone, but finally he loaded Ronnie into the cop car waiting outside the entrance to Neverland Island.
After the detectives drove off with Ronnie, Junior turned to me. “So none of this was real?” he asked. “Our time together?”
“Even though I fought it, my feelings for you were real, but I will admit, I told you a few big lies. There was no Grease festival.”
“I already figured that one out,” he said.
“And I’m not a widow.”
He nodded. “I think I would’ve remembered hearing about a fatal ice cream truck accident.”
