Eddie relaxed. Good. She was on board. “Okay,” he said, “but you gotta tell Tank.”
Chapter 20
That afternoon, Eddie called Diego from his car. “Have your friend Federico get the word to Simon Cooper one of us will be outside the gate tomorrow at noon to pick him up.”
“Will do, boss. Must mean Jordan signed the permission slip.”
“Smart ass.”
“While I got you ….” Diego’s voice was barely audible above the typical North Scottsdale static. “Guy called me from a pawn shop over by Metro Center. Says he thinks his boss may have some of the Dahlonega coins.”
Eddie thought he heard right. “Did you say some of the Dahlonega coins have surfaced?”
“Yeah,” he said. Then he broke up again.
“Damn, I can’t hear you. Give me a few minutes to get past the hills, Diego. I’ll call you back.”
Eddie exited the freeway and pulled into the parking lot of the Bowl-a-rama, parking between two school buses.
He keyed in Diego’s cell. “Tell me. Who is this guy?”
Two kids, thirteen or so, moseyed out of the bowling alley past one of the buses and began to circle the Boxster.
Eddie kept an eye on them as Diego began, “He’s just some guy who heard we’re looking for the museum loot and offering a reward. He says the owner met with someone who had a couple of these odd-looking old coins as samples for potential buyers. Said he’s pretty sure they’re what we’re looking for.”
One of the boys was taking an interest in Eddie’s custom wheels. He leaned down close—too close. As the kid lifted his hand, Eddie said, “Hang on a sec.”
He pushed a button on his key fob and activated the alarm just as the kid’s fingers made contact.
The deep robotic voice of the Rattler alarm growled, “Step away from the vehicle.”
Both boys jumped back, slammed against the school bus, and ran off into the bowling alley.
Behind his tinted windows, Eddie smiled and went back to Diego. “Text me the info. I’ll call Tank, and we’ll go down and have a little talk with the nice man.”
Metro Pawn was located in a central Phoenix strip mall in a rundown neighborhood west of I-17. The potholes in the parking lot asphalt were so deep it made Eddie glad he’d traded out the Porsche for his Ford Ranger before picking up Tank and heading across town. At one end of the strip mall, three Phoenix PD squad cars and five officers were in the process of shaking down two tough-looking, tattooed kids.
The sign on the pawn shop door read, “Open Twenty-four Hours. We buy and sell it all.”
It took a minute for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the darkened, hazy interior. He sniffed a couple of times. What was it about places like this that made them smell like his grandmother’s attic?
A woman was behind the counter, her back turned to them. In polite terms, she was plump. If he wasn’t feeling polite, she was a pork chop. She turned around. She nodded and leaned on the counter. Her plump face was smooth and would have been pretty if she didn’t look like she’d been sucking on a lemon. Her dark hair was long but slicked back off her face and gathered low on her neck into a scrunchie.
“Yeah?” Her voice was low enough that she might have been a four pack a day woman.
“Frank Manheim around?” Eddie asked.
She didn’t say anything.
He gave her the look. “Well, is he?”
“She’s standing in front of you, Einstein.”
“Oh.”
“It’s Frankie. Not Frank.”
“I didn’t know. Sorry,” Eddie said.
“Yeah, well, guy looks like you doesn’t need to have a degree.”
“I’m a private investigator. We’re working on a case for the Arizona Heritage Museum. Coin collection stolen a little over a week ago. We heard you might know something about it.”
“Me? Why?”
“Word on the street is you’re shopping a couple of gold coins.”
“What street?”
Eddie cleared his throat and settled in for the long haul. “We think they’re from the museum.”
“What museum?”
He mentally counted to ten. “Like I said, the Arizona Heritage.” He tried the smile.
“Don’t bother, honey. I don’t swing your direction.”
Tank took over.
“Ma’am, it’d be real nice if you’d help us out just a little. My best friend, guy who was in the war with me, got killed in the robbery.”
Eddie couldn’t believe it. The old bag melted right in front of him. Her mouth softened, and she was suddenly all dewy-eyed looking at Tank. She came around the counter and pulled his head down onto her chest—Triple Ds, if not more. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
Tank peeked out from under her arm and gave Eddie the cheesiest smile he’d ever seen.
Frankie sniffed and stepped back. “Maybe I do know a little something.”
She left them and disappeared through a door behind the counter. It was only a minute before she returned with a small, clear acrylic box she laid on the glass top. The lights over the display cases shimmered off the two gold coins inside.
She looked up at Tank. “This what you’re looking for, honey?”
Eddie snatched it up before she could stop him. “We’ll just take these to the Scottsdale PD. If they don’t belong to the collection, you can have them back.”
“And if they do?” Frankie asked.
“They’re stolen property. This isn’t your first time at the rodeo. You know the drill,” Eddie said.
Tank gave her a look of sincere apology like it was all Eddie’s fault. Eddie narrowed his eyes and sent Tank a signal with a jerk of his head.
Tank picked right up on it and laid his hand on Frankie’s arm. “Where’d y’all get ’em, Miss Frankie?”
She turned a cold shoulder on Eddie and smiled at Tank.
What is it about those Southern guys, anyway?
“Got a call from a guy I’ve handled a few things for. In the past, you know? He says he has these coins, a whole collection. Says if we meet, he’ll give me a couple to shop around …” She paused and seemed to search for the right word, “… to interested collectors. Asked me to meet him at the park. Pretty obvious he wasn’t interested in having his picture taken.” She looked over her shoulder at the CCTV camera. “So I did.” She shrugged.
“You said you’ve done business with him before?”
Frankie nodded, a look of concern creeping into her eyes.
“And?” Eddie encouraged.
“No names,” she said. “I can’t tell you who he is.”
Eddie glanced at Tank, who smiled and laid a hand on her arm. “It’s important, ma’am.” He looked up at her with sad eyes.
“I’m sorry, son. This isn’t the kind of hardass I want looking for me. No names.”
She was scared now, and after what Eddie saw in Tucson, he knew she had good reason to be. Who the hell was this guy?
“Frankie, what does he look like?”
Her eyes flitted between Eddie and Tank. Tank gave her a look of encouragement, and his fingers tightened on her arm.
“Regular, sort of. Gringo. About his height.” She lifted her chin toward Eddie. “Maybe a smidge shorter. Dark hair, kinda long. Dark eyes. Would be good looking if he wasn’t so scary. The kinda guy who looks at you and you want to go hide under a rock.”
Eddie nodded. He knew the type. But it wasn’t much help. Could be one of five hundred people, but they had more than yesterday.
He handed her his business card. “This is where you can find me if you decide you want to give him up.”
She still looked scared as they turned around and left.
Tank waved back at her. “Bye, y’all.”
Out in the parking lot the two men spoke across the hood of Eddie’s truck.
“You think Frankie’ll be okay?” There was worry in Tank’s voice. “Think this creep’ll hurt her if he finds out about us?”
Eddie opened the driver’s side door. “We’ll put somebody over here to keep an eye on her.”
Jordan waited on the low wall in front of Scottsdale PD Headquarters on Indian School Road. When Eddie and Tank walked up, she stood and met them.
“Can I see it?” she asked.
Eddie pulled the small case with the gold coin from his back pocket and handed it to her. She turned it over in her hands. An ache started in the pit of her stomach. Someone had killed their friend to get this. She looked up at Eddie.
“Sid Hunter’s already in there,” she said. “I’m letting you take the lead with the detectives so we don’t get our wires crossed.”
He nodded. “As far as Ann knows, we are as lost as they are on this case. They don’t know about the tattoo and for now, they don’t even know about Metro Pawn.”
Tank decided to hang around outside while Eddie and Jordan went into the police station.
Detective Ann Murphy and Sid Hunter, the museum curator, waited in one of the interrogation rooms. A jeweler’s loupe sat in front of Hunter beside a book titled, Guide to Rare Coins.
Eddie laid the acrylic case on the table in front of Sid, who removed the coin and examined it through the loupe. He set it aside for a moment while he opened the book to a marked page, ran his finger over a line of print then looked at the coin again.
“Yes,” he said. “These are two of the Type 2 gold dollar coins we had on display, minted 1854 to 1856.”
Ann had been leaning forward but relaxed back at his words. “Finally. A break. Metro Pawn Shop, you say?”
Jordan couldn’t help but think they’d lost one of their advantages over the cops. More the reason to protect what Simon Cooper could do for them.
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, but this was all owner had, and she didn’t know anything about the guy who brought it to her.”
Ann looked at him, her eyes distrustful. “Too bad, eh, Eddie?”
“Yes,” he said without looking away, “a real shame.”
Tank went to bring the truck around from the parking lot. Eddie and Jordan waited in front of the PD building.
The circles under Eddie’s eyes and the hard set of his jaw had Jordan worried. When his eyes met hers, they softened, and he reached out to touch her cheek. He looked tired and stressed.
“We’re getting somewhere, finally, right?” she asked.
He was slow to agree, but he did. “We can recover those coins. Frankie was a solid lead. She’ll get ’em for us. You should have seen her with Tank. Like a friggin’ mother hen.”
Jordan laughed. “One other good thing about this.”
He looked at her, anxious for good news.
“If he hasn’t fenced the coins and he’s shopping them around, he’s still local.”
Eddie’s big Ford Ranger rounded the corner. Tank came to a stop and Eddie hopped in.
Jordan leaned back against the wall and dialed Rachel Abromowitz. Finally, some good news to share with the board members. If they played their cards right, Shea Investigations might make it out of this intact after all. A wave of regret washed over her at the thought. Without Muggs, they weren’t anywhere close to being intact and wouldn’t be for a long time.
Chapter 21
It was Tuesday morning—spring in Arizona, even in Florence outside the prison. The sky was cerulean, marred by only a few wispy white clouds. Jordan and Diego waited outside the prison gate. The parking lot was uneven, full of crevices and chuckholes with weeds growing up through the asphalt. The Florence State Prison had seen better days for sure. Far from state of the art, it looked like something out of an apocalyptic movie. Mad Max, maybe, or Terminator. “Hasta la vista, baby.”
A young blond boy toy strutted toward them.
“Is that him?” Jordan said. “He’s cute.”
“Yeah, that would be him.” Diego got out of the car and walked around.
“Dude,” Coop ignored Diego’s outstretched hand and pulled him into a hug, “thanks for being my wheels today.”
Coop pulled back and turned bright blue eyes and a boyish smile on Jordan. So this was the whiz kid everyone was shouting about. He looked like a schoolboy. Brains. Looks. She could think of a thousand ways to use him at the agency.
“Hello, Coop,” she said.
He smiled shyly. “Miss Welsh. Cool. You’re really pretty.”
She couldn’t help herself. She smiled back. “Yeah, yeah, smooth talker. Get in the car.”
He hopped into the backseat and leaned forward as Diego got back in. “Sweet ride, dude.”
He rubbed his hand along the upholstery of Diego’s Wrangler.
“Look, man. You mind if we make one stop before heading to your office?” He rested his elbow on the back of Diego’s seat and leaned his chin on his hand. “I’d kinda like to get the prison off me. You know, freshen up? I probably smell like something shoveled out of a barn.”
Jordan wrinkled her nose and looked at Diego. “By all means.”
Jordan glanced at her watch. “What’s taking him so long?”
Coop had been inside the impressive Paradise Valley house where he said his friend lived for over forty-five minutes. Diego and Jordan had opted to wait outside while the boy convict showered and changed clothes.
She looked behind her where Coop’s backpack sat, turned and reached for it.
She smiled at him as she unzipped it. “Oops, will you look at what happened? Fell right open.”
On top was a folded sheet of paper. She plucked it out and opened it up like it was made of eggshells.
It was exactly what she hoped it would be. “This is it.”
Diego leaned across and took a look. “The list of names. All eight of them. Who’s …?” he stopped dead.
“Holy shit!” they said in unison.
“Tony …” Jordan said.
“LaSalle,” Diego whispered.
They both jumped at Coop’s cheerful voice. “See you found the list, okay. Meant to give it to you. Got excited about my,” he paused, “shower. You know how it is.”
Jordan raised her head, feeling guilty for some reason. “We just ….” Her voice trailed off.
He got in the car. “No prob. It’s cool. I got nothing to hide from you, boss lady.”
“Really? Call me Jordan. Is that your mother?”
A nearly naked woman stood in the open front door, waving at them.
Coop grinned and waved back. “Nope, not Mom,” he said. “My friend Veronica.”
Diego said, “Veronica, eh? Looks like a nice lady. She bake you some cookies, kid? Is that what took so long?”
“Shame on her.” Jordan looked back over the seat. “She’s gotta be twice your age.”
Coop shrugged. “Age is just a number.”
Jordan turned back around. “She tell you that?”
* * *
Eddie walked into the office with Tank.
Gina and Mama Rose were listening to Simon Cooper like he was Deepak Chopra, about to reveal the secrets of the universe. Damn. Gina’s eyes were sparkling. Mama Rose looked on dotingly.
Eddie could see already that the boy was going to be trouble.
“Simon. My office. Now.” Eddie jerked his thumb back over his shoulder.
Coop looked at Gina and Mama with regret. “Sorry, ladies, guess I’m on the clock.” He bowed at the waist and backed away.
For crying out loud. “Simon. Now?”
Tank and Coop followed Eddie into his office. Eddie closed the door behind them and turned to Coop. He was taller than the kid by three or four inches, enough to intimidate.
But the kid didn’t seem easily intimidated. “What’s up, boss?”
“Enough with the smiles, kid. Save it for somebody who thinks you’re cute.”
“What did I do now?”
“Gina’s off limits to you.”
The smile went away. The blue eyes darkened. “Off limits to everybody, or just me? Because I’ve been inside?”
“Everybody.”
Eddie got it; he’d been there. This kid seemed to have a past that made him want to challenge anyone who tried to hang a label on him. Can’t blame him. “Gina’s my niece. I look out for her.”
Coop smiled. “I get it. She’s a beautiful girl. I can see why you’d have to.”
Eddie gestured. “This is Tank Sycamore. He’s your watchdog, at least until Jordan lets you off leash.”
Tank and Coop shook. Tank still looked fairly pissed off at his new assignment. He’d objected in a dozen different ways. None of them had worked.
“Tank,” Coop asked. “What’s it short for?”
Tank frowned.
Eddie grinned. “Not short for, instead of. It’s Beauregard.”
Eddie had to hand it to Coop. He didn’t blink or even crack a smile—a smart move when you’re dealing with a guy whose arms are the size of Tank’s. Instead, Coop only said, “Beauregard Sycamore? Must be a Southern family name.”
Tank nodded, and with a glare at Eddie, said, “I drove tanks in the army, M1-A1 Abrams.”
Coop said, “So it’s not because you’re built like one?”
“Maybe that too,” Tank said.
Coop nodded. “Tank it is.”
Eddie said, “Jordan wanted you two to meet up with Steve Keegan down at Bakersfield Labs. They’ve got results back on the accelerant used in our arson fire case. It was a positive for gasoline. You’ll go with him to speak to the owner of the nightclub.”
Behind them, Jordan opened the door.
“Miss Jordan,” Tank said, “we’re just leaving.”
“Tell Steve I said hello,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks, again, Miss Welsh.” Coop held the door for Tank then walked out, closing it behind him.
Jordan turned to Eddie and handed him the list from Coop’s backpack. “You better sit down.”
Eddie opened it, read it, and looked at her. She could have sworn the color drained from his face.
“You saw this.” It was a statement, not a question.
Stealing the Golden Dream Page 11
