by Andrew Grey
Mattias stopped on the sidewalk. “This is my expertise. Let me try first.” He turned and breezed up to the door, practically flouncing inside the store.
James rolled his eyes and wondered what Mattias was up to, but figured he’d give him a little rope. Maybe he’d metaphorically hang himself with it and James could go back to normal.
“Good morning,” Mattias said excitedly in response to the lady behind the counter. He clapped his hands together as he looked over the case in front of her. “You have amazing things.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, standing a little straighter. “Is there anything I can help you find?”
“I don’t know. He and I were just out, and we saw your shop, and I just had to stop.” Mattias flashed a huge smile as he continued to look inside one case and then moved on to the next. James did the same, peeking into the cases. Then he wandered through the store, glancing at each of the items for sale, trying to determine if any of them fit the various bulletins. So many things came across as alerts that it was impossible to commit all of them to memory, but there was always the chance something would stick out.
“Can I see that piece? It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Mattias asked, and James wandered back over.
“It’s an engagement ring from the forties. It’s just lovely, and we got it the other day. You’re one of the first people to ask to see it,” the saleslady said.
Mattias pulled out his phone. “Is it okay if I take a picture? My mom had one just that style, and she gave it up. You know how things can get when you retire. I want to see if it’s close so I can replace it for her.” Mattias took a picture and then moved back.
James’s phone chimed with the picture and he wandered away to call Pierre. “I’m sending you a picture. It’s a ring we think could be one that was stolen. Go through the spreadsheet, find the victim who lost an engagement ring, circa 1940, and contact her. See if this is hers and message me back.” He put the phone in his pocket and rejoined Mattias, his heart pounding a little faster. There were few things as good as getting a lead, other than actually returning someone’s stolen property.
Mattias thanked her, and the lady put the ring back. Then he wandered through the store, continuing to look at the various cases and displays. “Have you heard back?” Mattias asked quietly.
“Not yet.”
The two of them continued browsing until James’s phone dinged. He pulled it out and showed the message to Mattias. Apparently Pierre had been successful. James sent a reply, put his phone away, and returned to the desk, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out his badge. “I’m Detective James Levinson, working with the sheriff’s department, and we believe that this ring may be stolen property. I’d like to see the records of its purchase, and you’re going to need to put it aside. We’re arranging for the victim to identify the item.” James pulled his phone out again. “Is there an inscription?”
The saleslady had gone white. She turned the ring over. “My darling Rachel.”
James nodded. “That matches the victim’s description.”
“I’ll need to call the store owner.”
James nodded, and she went into the back. He smiled at Mattias as she made her call.
Then she returned, took the ring from the case, and placed it in the back room. “Mr. Anderson asked me to show you all the records.” She brought out a sheet of paper with an inventory listing and the information on the seller. “Mr. Anderson bought the items, but I did the paperwork for him. They had a driver’s license, and that’s where I took the information from.”
“Thank you. Can you make me a copy of this?”
“Of course.” She went in the back once again and returned with a copy of the entire sheet. “Do you think all of this is stolen?”
“It’s likely, I’m afraid. Gather it all together, and we’ll see if we can try to find the owners.” At least James had a name and address, though ten to one he was willing to bet that all of the information they had was likely fake. “Can you please give me your name?” He pulled out a notebook and took down her information, all the business information, and then got down to what he hoped might lead to something. “Can you describe the person who sold you the items?”
“I really can’t. I only saw her for a few minutes. Mr. Anderson dealt directly with her, and he said he’s on his way. It will take him a few minutes to get here.” She busied herself pulling items off sale, and James grew angrier by the second. Here was yet another victim of these people. They not only stole from the people whose homes they broke into, but now this business owner was out what he paid as well. Everyone was a loser in this game.
“Thank you.” He stepped away and let her go about her depressing business. Mattias joined him. “I bet a lot of this is from our victims.”
“And the rest from people we don’t know about yet,” Mattias said quietly, his eyes much softer than James had seen before. “This is why I quit the business. There were way too many victims.” He turned away and found a bronze in the corner on a pedestal that captured his imagination. James figured he’d give him the time to collect himself. It was a harsh awakening to realize that your behavior only hurt others. It was possible for people to rationalize just about anything, but it got harder when the victims weren’t nameless and faceless, but real people looking back at you.
“Did you see anything else that might have been on our list of stolen items?”
Mattias shook his head. “I didn’t see anything, but then again, I don’t have it memorized.”
“May I help you?” a man asked as he entered. He was probably in his fifties, with graying hair, very distinguished.
“We’re sorry to inform you that it appears you have purchased merchandise that was stolen,” James said. “We have someone coming down to identify a ring, but she told us of the inscription, which matches. And it seems the other items you bought at the same time were likely stolen as well.”
“I’m Harold Anderson, and I own the shop. I’ll do what I can to help you.” He scratched his head as he sighed. He looked as though he were in pain. This had to hurt. “I remember her pretty well.”
“So it was a woman?” he asked for clarity.
He nodded. “She seemed the nervous type, about thirty, maybe a little over five feet. Nice-looking, bright eyes, spoke softly and was dressed nicely, but looked like she’d been struggling. Her clothes matched the story she’d told me about her and her mother needing to sell the items.”
“She had a driver’s license,” the lady behind the counter interjected.
“I did everything right,” Harold said, much more softly.
“I understand. We believe these are professionals, and if it’s any consolation, we believe that these people are very good at fooling others. You were taken in by them, and I’m sorry about that.” James explained to Harold what he needed to do.
They talked until a tall, older lady came in asking for James. She introduced herself as Rachel Himes. He explained who he was and showed her the ring. She identified it easily, along with three other pieces, which he tagged as evidence.
“Can I take them now?” Mrs. Himes asked.
“I’m afraid not. We will need them for evidence, but you will get them back.” It was the best he could tell her. The wheels of justice sometimes ground to a near halt. But they had recovered her property, and hopefully once they got the thieves, things would move fast enough that the case could be resolved relatively quickly.
James took down all pertinent information from everyone, and once he had everything, did one last check of the store with the victim to ensure nothing else was there. Mattias hung back, watching and staying out of the way.
“That really sucked,” Mattias said once the woman was out of earshot, when he and James had a moment. “I didn’t realize it would take so long for her to get her property back. I probably should have, with the number of departments that I’ve worked with.”
James shrugged. He wished he could make things m
ove faster. These people had been traumatized by someone breaking into their homes and stealing their things, and now, when some of what they had lost was recovered, they had to wait to get it back.
“Is there anything else?” Harold asked in a defeated tone. There seemed to be plenty of that going around. Not that James could blame any of them.
“Not at the moment. Thank you.” James took the evidence with him, giving Mr. Anderson a receipt for the items they believed had been stolen, and one to Mrs. Himes, who seemed somewhat relieved, even if she couldn’t take her property right now.
“Do you think you’ll be able to recover the other items that were taken?” she asked, holding her purse with both hands as though she expected someone to try to take it at any minute.
“We’re trying very hard, ma’am,” Mattias said, and damned if the way he said it didn’t seem to make some of the tension leave her. “The detective and I are doing our level best to see that everyone gets back what was taken from them.” He stepped forward. “Would you like me to see you to your car?”
She nodded, and James thanked Harold for his help and cooperation. Then they left the store, with Mattias seeing Mrs. Himes to her car before returning to theirs and getting inside.
“I hate this part of my job.”
“What?” James asked, a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue.
“Seeing what I did to people in order to make a living,” Mattias answered softly. “I used to be the one who hurt people like that and then dumped stolen merchandise on unsuspecting merchants. That’s why I said what I did yesterday. There is no such thing as a victimless crime. Instead, the victims and people who get hurt only pile up.” He turned toward the store. “How much longer do you think Harold Anderson is going to be able to stay in business if he purchases items that he can’t ultimately sell because they’re stolen?”
James nodded. “And as far as I can see, he did everything the way it should have been done.” He stopped, got out of the car, and hurried back into the shop. “I’m sorry to bother you, but did you happen to make a copy of the driver’s license?”
Harold shook his head. “That isn’t our policy, but it will be from now on.”
“Okay. Thank you.” James returned to the car and pulled away from the curb. He should have thought to ask about the license earlier, but this case was getting to him more than he wanted to admit to anyone. “Let’s try the next store.”
Mattias simply nodded, and they drove in silence toward Mechanicsburg.
THE JEWELRY store on a major corner was quiet when they walked in. Mattias looked from case to case and asked if they had any estate jewelry.
“That’s in the back showroom,” the young, bright-eyed saleslady answered, and led them through a door to a smaller room. She flipped on the lights, and two cases of jewelry lit up, as did ceiling lighting for dozens of art deco statues. “The owner has been collecting the artworks for years. Some of it is for sale, but this area is for our estate jewelry. Is there anything you’re looking for?”
James wasn’t going to prevaricate. “I’m Detective James Levinson, and this is my associate, Mattias Dumont. We’re working with the sheriff’s department on a string of burglaries in the county.”
She nodded. “Yes. We heard of those, but I doubt we have any of the items you’re looking for.”
James nodded. “I hope that’s the case. Are there items you’ve purchased recently?” he asked, and she became nervous, wringing her hands, which made James wonder if something was going on.
“I’ll call Mr. Powers. He lives next door. Excuse me.” She returned to the main store, and James let Mattias look around while he assessed the exits and how quickly they could get out of here if anything unexpected happened.
“Detective, Marvin Powers.” Mr. Powers smiled as he came in and shook James’s hand. “Maryann was telling me what you need, and I’ll do what I can to help. I’ve only purchased three items recently. Most of what gets brought in isn’t up to our standards.” He went behind the cases, unlocked a file, and pulled out three sheaves of paper. James was happy to see that he’d made copies of the identification used during the purchase. Mr. Powers set them on the counter and opened the cases to pull out two small rings and a brooch.
Mattias excused himself, leaving the room while James reviewed the paperwork. He returned with his computer and opened the lid. “There are no brooches reported.”
James set the corresponding documentation aside and then checked the other pages, showing the picture to Mattias. “She matches the description, doesn’t she?” James asked.
Mattias nodded. “Perfectly,” he agreed, and James looked over the paperwork. The description on the form, especially the inscription mentioned, matched one of the items.
“Where is this ring?” James looked through what had been presented.
“It sold the day after I received it. I had a customer from out of town. He said he was visiting family. He saw the ring and bought it right away. I have the purchase information right here.” Mr. Powers’s hand shook a little as he handed over the copy of the receipt. “He paid cash, and as you can see, he was from out of state. It was nice and of good quality, but the stone was glass and not sapphire, so the price of the ring was based mostly on the setting.”
James made notes and then glanced at Mattias, who finished looking through the other cases and rejoined him.
“I wish I could help you, but there isn’t anything else I can do.” Mr. Powers made a copy of the sales slip and handed it to him. “As you can see, he gave me a name and nothing else. It was a cash sale.”
“I understand.”
“I’m willing to give the people it was taken from the money from the sale. I know it won’t replace what they lost, but it’s something… I guess.”
“I’ll let them know. Thank you for offering.” The law would probably require him to do that, but it was kind of him to offer. “I’ll need a copy of your intake form as well.”
“Of course.” Mr. Powers made copies as James asked additional questions, taking down details for his report, and then they got ready to leave. James thanked him again and went through to the other room.
“I’m sorry. I must have dropped my phone in there.” Mattias made a show of patting his pockets and hurried back inside. He came out a minute later with his phone, and Mr. Powers closed the door.
Mattias left the shop, and James followed him to the car. “What was all that about? You never took your phone out.” He glared at Mattias, his suspicions rising.
“I wanted to take a quick peek without them there,” Mattias said. “I only had a minute.”
“Did you find anything?”
Mattias growled. “I don’t know. Like I said, I only had a few seconds, but there are some things behind the counter that I’d really like to take a look at. I did manage to get the top off one, and it may have been the locket I was telling you about. I’m not sure because I had to leave.” He shook his head. “That was a man all too eager to help so we’d get the hell out of his store and stop looking around.”
“He was?” James asked, not having gotten that vibe from him at all. “Look, you’re here to help, but you can’t be breaking into things and sneaking around. That isn’t going to work.”
Mattias turned in the seat to face him. “But what if it was the locket? Then we’d actually have a way to trace him to the thefts. And he lied to you. Doesn’t that piss you off?”
“Yeah, it would if I thought he was lying, which I don’t. If he were regularly dealing in stolen goods, he’d have better paperwork and wouldn’t have just had the merchandise on display. That would just make things too easy.” And this case was going to be anything but easy. “At least we got a picture of one of the thieves. The name and address are probably fake, but I’d like to show this picture to Mr. Anderson to see if this is the person who sold him the jewelry.” This could be their first real break in the case. Though facial recognition was nowhere near as easy as it was on televi
sion.
“Makes sense to me,” Mattias agreed.
James sent a copy to Pierre and then contacted the other shopkeeper, hurrying back to the store, where he did confirm that she was the person he’d met.
HE AND Mattias got something for lunch and were headed back to the station when his phone rang. James glanced at the screen and groaned.
“An ex-boyfriend you don’t want to talk to?” Mattias teased, and James stifled a growl.
“No. It’s my mother,” James explained, and hit the button to answer the call. “Hey, Mom.” James tried to sound enthused, but a stab of apprehension ran through him. She usually called when she needed something or someone was in trouble.
“Hi, Jimmy. You’re alive and not lying in a ditch somewhere, dead and bleeding.”
Mattias put his hand over his mouth.
“I’m fine. Just really busy. And just so you know, I’m in the car and I’m not alone. I have an associate here with me.” James hoped that would help his mother practice some decorum. “But when I saw you calling, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“We’re fine. Your father is on another of his business trips, and I hope he’ll get home soon.” She sounded down, but not depressed.
“Where is he?” James’s suspicions rose and flew outside the car like a damned flag.
“Down south somewhere. I think Tampa. He said he’d be gone a few weeks and then that will be it. He’s retiring.” She made the announcement as though it were monumental. James had been hearing that for the last ten years.
“You know he can’t stay away,” James said, trying not to grit his teeth. His only saving grace was that his parents lived in West Virginia, but the entire situation was almost more than he could bear.
