by G. K. Parks
“No. I’ve never seen any of them before.”
“Thanks.”
“Does this mean you’re making progress?”
“Leaps and bounds,” I deadpanned, already on to a more thorough analysis of the forums Knox frequented. “While I have you, what can you tell me about trade shows?”
“They’re great.”
Swallowing an exasperated sigh, I asked, “Do you go to them often?”
“Every chance I get.”
“You must have interacted with tons of other sports fans. Did you ever tell them about your collection or recent acquisitions?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever exchange names or contact information?”
“With a few guys.”
“I’ll need that. Did you invite any of them back to your house?”
“No. It was more like ‘I’ll let you know if I stumble upon that signed rookie card if you keep an eye out for the championship game ball’.”
“Did any of them keep in touch?”
“A few. We usually meet for drinks to exchange merchandise or to catch a game.”
“All right. Send me their contact information. Do you always go to the same bar?”
“Yep. McGinty’s.”
A sports bar. I wasn’t surprised. Adding that to my list of places to visit, I asked Knox the few questions I’d come up with while at the airport last night, but he didn’t have any private messaging apps on his phone. “You don’t date?”
“How is that any of your business?”
“It isn’t, but I’m curious.”
“I meet plenty of women. Plenty.” He exaggerated the word the second time he said it. “I’m more of a one and done kind of guy.”
“You don’t take them back to your place?”
“Nope.”
“May I ask why not?”
“They want to stay the night. They use my toothbrush. They want to get breakfast and plan a second date. One chick even wanted to plan our wedding. It’s awkward when I have to kick them out to go to work in the morning. There’s always a scene. It’s just better to love ‘em and leave ‘em. Am I right?”
Though I shared several of Knox’s views, at least when it came to picking up random women, hearing him say it bothered me. “Uh-huh.”
“So I go to them.”
“Were you with someone when your house was broken into? According to the police report, it happened around ten p.m.”
“No, I was at work. Acquisitions involves a lot of overseas calls and dealing with different time zones. I work late a lot.”
“Okay.” That marked another possibility off my list.
“I have to go,” Knox said. “Good luck. I hope you find my stuff soon. I’m dying to get that ring back.”
He hung up before I had a chance to respond. All right, so he didn’t subscribe to a dating app. He didn’t invite random women to his house. From what I gathered, Knox didn’t do anything that would make him an easy target. He didn’t broadcast his location or habits. The only thing he did was talk a lot about his cool toys in online forums and to other die-hard fans. That could be troublesome, but his name was common enough. No one should have been able to find his house and plan the perfect heist that way, but someone did. And that someone brought an entire crew with him.
After staring at the screen for several more minutes without having brilliance strike, I got up and went into the outer office. “I’m going to the precinct to see if the responding officers can tell me anything that isn’t in the file.”
“All right. I’ll let Mr. Almeada know he should be prepared to bail you out of jail.” Justin reached for the phone.
“Why?” I shook my head. “Never mind. If you dig up something concrete, text me the details.”
“Will do.”
Eight
“Hey, Sara.” I ran my hand over the edge of the counter.
“Lucien?” Sgt. Sara Rostokowski looked up from her spot behind the desk and automatically tucked a piece of grey hair behind her ear. “It’s good to see you, kid.” She studied me. “Are you good? You look good.”
“I’m good.”
“Really?” She glanced around to make sure the other cops working intake could handle the phones while she came around to the side. “It’s nice to see you upright and walking again.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the posters on the walls. “Thanks for bringing food over and visiting me in the hospital.”
“No, of course. It’s the least I could do.” She reached for me. “Is it okay if I hug you?”
I laughed. “You’ve known me my entire life. Since when do you have to ask?”
“I just… I didn’t want to…” She gave me a gentle hug and pulled back. “Are you staying out of trouble?”
“Trying.”
“But you’re here. Do I want to know why?”
“A client hired me to recover his stolen property.”
“Did he file a police report?”
“Yep.”
She returned to her spot behind the desk. “Okay, give me the details.” I gave her the location and date. Before I could give her the case number, she pulled it up. “It’s still under investigation.”
“Obviously. I want to talk to the responding officer and whoever’s primary and see if they have anything to add.”
“And you think this is a good idea?”
I snorted. “Why? Are you afraid another cop is going to shoot me?”
“Lucien—”
“Yeah, I know.” I slapped my hand over my mouth.
She shook her head. “Let me check and see who’s around that you can talk to.”
“Thanks, Sara.”
I moved away from the desk and took a seat near the front door. A few officers glared at me from where they were working intake. I’d always had a reputation, first as the commissioner’s washed-out son, then as a troublemaker who got out of assault and destruction of property charges because his daddy pulled strings, and now as a cop killer. No wonder Justin said he’d tell Almeada to expect a call. I’d be lucky to get out of the station in one piece.
“Lucien,” Sara said, distracting me from giving the officers my most potent death stare, “Officer Gallo will be out in a sec to talk to you.”
“Thanks.”
A few moments later, a career patrolman turned a corner. “Lucien Cross?”
“That’d be me.”
He cocked one eyebrow up and gave me a thorough once-over. “Joe Gallo.” He held out his hand, but his eyes didn’t hold malice. He seemed intrigued, possibly even pleased, to meet me. “I’ve crossed paths with your old man several times over the years. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Sure.” Gallo didn’t know dear old dad the way I did.
“He always brags about his boy. It’s nice to meet’cha. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to ask you a few things about a recent break-in.” I gave him Knox’s address.
Gallo nodded a few times. “Yeah, that was a week ago. Week and a half. I remember it well. The security firm didn’t alert us. The owner did. The system had been taken apart from the control boxes, and the owner’s valuables had been cleaned out. But most of the house was pristine.”
“What do you mean most?”
He led me into an empty room off to the side and closed the door. “Break-ins are usually messy. Wires hanging all over the place from where the TV and electronics got yanked, broken glass, tossed drawers, ripped furniture. But this place didn’t have any of the usual telltale signs of a break-in. It was clean. Not a lot of damage to report.”
I removed the copy of the police report Knox had given me from my breast pocket. “Just a busted bathroom mirror, right?”
“That was it.” Gallo read over my shoulder. “The pieces had red paint on them, like someone spray painted them, but I don’t know for sure.”
“There’s no mention of that.”
“The owner said it was decorative.”
“
Spray paint’s decorative?”
“No, he said the mirror had a red design etched on it and that’s what we were seeing. It didn’t look like it to me, but he was so distraught about his stolen stuff, I didn’t want to press and make matters worse. You’re working for the guy?”
“Trey Knox.”
“Yeah. He was nearly in tears over losing his shit.” Gallo chuckled. “I’m not used to seeing grown men acting like that. He acted like the big kid snatched the juice box right out of his hand.”
I glared at Gallo. “Isn’t that what happened?”
The officer held up his palms. “Hey, I’m on your side here. I want to get this guy’s stuff back and find the bastards who did this. That’s my job. Any help you can provide is a plus in my book.”
Narrowing my eyes, I wondered if he had known what recently transpired or if he wanted to be my pal because of his prior connection to my father, a.k.a. his boss. Perhaps the gag order had gone both ways, but I didn’t have time to worry about it now. “Mr. Knox didn’t hire me to help you do your job. He hired me to recover his property.”
“I hope you can.” Officer Gallo reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. “When you find his stuff, give me a call. I doubt this is the first time this crew has struck.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Off the record, this isn’t the first break-in in that area. It could be the same crew. We’re working to stop them now.”
“It’s not the same crew.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Different MO. Whoever broke into Knox’s place disassembled the security system. They didn’t cut some wires or trigger it. They took it apart.”
“We already looked into the home security system people, but they’re clean.”
“I know.”
“You looked too?” Gallo asked.
“Someone has to make sure the job’s getting done.” I resisted the urge to crumple up his business card and toss it on the floor. Officer Gallo might be a good cop or a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I didn’t know enough about him to make a judgment call either way, but as a rule, I didn’t trust any of them. I hadn’t in a long time, and given my history, that wasn’t about to change anytime soon.
“Glad you’re on it.” Gallo winked at me and put a firm hand on my shoulder. “You’re making your pops proud.”
I tried not to let those words irritate me as I left the precinct and headed to the first of many pawn shops. Even though they had policies against dealing in stolen merchandise, I’d done enough checking to determine the least reputable. I’d start there and make my way down the list.
My best bet was to pose as a buyer. I had the car, watch, and suit to let them know I was serious and wasn’t a cop. The police didn’t dress this nicely. I’d been assured of that fact only a few minutes ago. When I entered the first store, with the bars over the windows, I wondered if I should have entered armed.
The guy behind the counter looked like a barrel. The black hairs sticking up on his shoulders from underneath his wifebeater were almost thick enough to carpet my hardwood floors. He turned with a permanent angry expression on his face.
“Buying or selling?” His eyes came to rest on my watch.
“Buying, I hope.” I tugged on my sleeve and straightened my cufflink. “Do you have any sports memorabilia?”
“Yeah, sure.” He led me over to a display counter of photographs, jerseys, and game balls. “Anything specific?”
I browsed the display, but none of it matched the items stolen from Knox’s collection. “None of this is quite right. I’m looking for a gift for my boss. Maybe a championship ring or something.”
“I got these.” The guy opened a locked cabinet behind him and pulled out a row of rings that looked like they belonged to famous rappers.
“No.” I sighed. “I was hoping for a specific item.” I gave him the details on the ring, but he didn’t have one.
“What about something else?”
I rattled off a few of the pricier items from Knox’s collection, but he didn’t have anything in stock. “I’d be willing to pay through the nose if you could get your hands on this ring. I’m looking to make partner, and with my boss’s birthday coming up, this is the perfect opportunity. If you could get your hands on it, I’d pay you fifty percent over the asking price.”
The guy just shrugged. “Sorry. This is all I got. I don’t do a lot of sports shit in here.” The store had mostly electronics, knives, and guns. “Check out Pauley’s Pawn. They might have what you want.”
“Thanks.”
Nine
Pauley’s Pawn looked like most discount stores, not a pawn shop. The place was huge. Rows of everything from knockoff Gucci bags to designer sunglasses to ancient weaponry filled the locked cases and shelves. Yet, the clientele inside the pawn shop made me uneasy.
Several rough-looking men were clustered around the back wall, which had racks of mounted weaponry and cases of bullets, blades, and what appeared to be grenades. The friendlier items were closer to the front.
I meandered the aisles, checking out the tablets and computers. Any one of them could have belonged to Trey Knox, but that’d be next to impossible to determine without checking serial numbers.
“Can I help you?” A woman popped her gum and studied me with mild indifference. The wrinkles around her mouth told me she smoked, probably a pack a day given the harshness to her voice.
Giving her a winning smile, I approached the counter where she stood. “I’m shopping for a specialty item for my boss. He’s a big sports fan.”
“What sport?”
“All of them.” I told her about the MVP ring I was hoping to acquire.
She whistled. “Have you tried ebay?”
“I couldn’t find one.”
“They’re hard to come by. Anything else on this guy’s wish list?”
“How about a World Series pennant signed by all the players?”
She scratched her head. “Let’s see.” She led me to a section of the store I hadn’t browsed yet. “We might have a few more things in the back. Look around while I check.”
“Sure, thanks.” I crouched down to get a closer look inside the display case while watching her unlock a door and step into the back. Something about this didn’t feel right. I straightened and leaned over the glass to get a better look at a few signed game balls, noticing the two men nodding in my direction.
I shifted, wondering if they’d noticed the bulge at the back of my jacket. After my visit to the previous pawn shop, I’d decided it was best to enter these establishments armed, as long as they didn’t have metal detectors. The men went back to their conversation, but they kept one eye on me. Perhaps, one apex predator had simply sensed another apex predator, but I wasn’t delusional enough to think of myself as an apex predator. They probably noticed my watch and cufflinks and figured they’d mug me on my way out.
“Yo,” the woman called to me, “I found this in the back.” She held it up, and I studied it carefully.
“Do you have a certificate of authenticity or anything like that?”
Her eyes went wide, and she popped her gum again. “Do you want it or not?”
I nodded down at the triangular piece of fabric. “How much?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Dollars?”
“Hundred.”
I gave it another look. “Let me think about it for a minute.” I pointed at a hockey puck inside the display case. “Can I see that?”
She let out a huff, practically rolling her eyes at the inconvenience. “Which one?”
“On your left.”
She pulled it out of the case and placed it on top of the glass. Picking it up, I checked to see if it had the same scuff mark on the side that Knox’s had, but it did not. Stepping back, I examined the pennant again. “I’ll give you $1800.”
“Twenty-two.”
I let out a sigh. “Fine. Do you take credit cards?”
She nodded, picking up the pennant and ca
rrying it to the register. We passed the men, who looked away as I approached, but once I was past them, their eyes were back on me. Ignoring them, I examined the other items on the wall and in the display case near the register.
“Do you think you might get a championship ring in? That would really cinch things for me.”
“This won’t do it?”
“Nope.”
“Rings are hard to find, and they get expensive. Tens of thousands.”
“I know.” I watched her carefully. “I’m prepared to drop seventy-five grand on it.”
She nearly choked. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Where do you work?”
“An investment bank. The partner buy-in is almost two-fifty. Another seventy-five to make sure I don’t get skipped over again is worth it.”
She put the pennant into a large flat box and slid it across the counter. “Check back next week. We’re supposed to be getting some new stock in on Thursday.”
“Great, thanks.”
Lifting the flat box off the counter, I kept it horizontal as I made my way to the front door. The two men remained in the store as I unlocked the trunk and put the box inside. I couldn’t be sure this was part of Knox’s stolen collection, but it’d be easier to verify at the office than in the middle of the pawn shop.
Before pulling away, I made a few calls. While I was on the phone, one of the men left the shop. He walked past my car and continued down the street. Beneath his jacket was a concealed handgun. Whether that had been a recent purchase, I didn’t know. Perhaps he had planned to knock over the pawn shop until I showed up. But I didn’t think that was the case either.
The first thing I had to do was determine if this place was hocking Knox’s collection, and if they were, I had to find out who sold it to them. The lady said a new shipment was coming in on Thursday, but everything I knew about pawn shops didn’t indicate they received shipments. Items came and went, as did the customers.
Some people just wanted cash, but if they were getting shipments, the thieves might be unloading their wares on a regular basis. Phoning Justin, I gave him the store name and address and told him to run the business and everyone associated with it. Then I made a quick detour back to the police station.
