Chapter Twenty-Two #2
George shrugged. “Same thing. Boss calls the shots. You can stop fidgeting, fella,” he added, turning so suddenly to the pawnbroker that the man jumped. “I don’t like fidgety little mice. Gives me an itch to make them stay still.”
“I did see you last night, then,” Vivian said.
“You might’ve.” George smiled again. “So, what’re we looking for today? A necklace, you said?” He turned to the pawnbroker. “Tell the girlie about the necklace.”
The man raised his hands, shaking his head. There was sweat beading on his flushed face; he clearly knew the man in his shop was dangerous. “I’m afraid I don’t know—”
“Leave him alone,” Vivian snapped. “We don’t need your help. And I’m not saying anything more with you here. So how about you shake a leg right on out the door?”
“You think not?” George ignored her and, keeping his eyes on the shop owner, stepped forward slowly. The pawnbroker stepped back. “You know anything about this necklace? What does it have to do with this hemlock group? Don’t hold out on me now. I get angry when people hold out on me.”
Vivian had no idea what to do, but Leo was already moving. He stepped forward just enough, putting himself in George’s path. He didn’t do anything threatening, but he planted his feet and smiled coldly. “She said this conversation isn’t happening with you here.”
“And I swear, I don’t know anything,” the pawnbroker stammered, glancing from one face to the next. Vivian could see his hands shaking.
Bruiser George pushed past Leo until he was right in the pawnbroker’s face. “You sure about that?” he snarled.
Before either Vivian or Leo could react, George had grabbed the pawnbroker by the scruff of his neck and shoved him face-first into one of his display cabinets.
The pawnbroker reeled backward and stumbled to his knees, stunned, as trinkets tumbled from the shelves, some of them shattering on impact.
Bruiser George would have grabbed him again if Vivian hadn’t pushed herself between them.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, shaking at the sudden burst of violence.
“Out of my way, girlie,” he said, sneering at her.
“I’m not being paid to stand around. I’m being paid to find out information.
How I do it is my business.” He took a step toward Vivian, who was still between him and the pawnbroker, one of his hands rising to shove her out of the way. Vivian tensed.
“Well, I’m not being paid at all,” Leo said as he stepped next to Vivian, loose-limbed and ready for a fight. His voice was cheerful; his eyes were cold. “But I’ll gladly smash your teeth in for free if you don’t get out of here.”
George, menacing and fearless a moment before, hesitated.
Beating the pawnbroker was one thing, but he was clearly hesitant to mess with a man who moved like he knew how to defend himself.
George was wiry and fierce, but Leo had several inches of height on him, and his shoulders were broader.
The pawnbroker whimpered, but no one glanced his way.
Vivian drew herself up, hoping she didn’t look as scared as she felt. “He said get out.”
Bruiser George turned to glance at her, his sneer back. “She won’t be happy if I don’t come back with a full report, girlie.”
“Poor her,” Vivian said coldly. Beside her, Leo shifted, just the smallest change in how he held his weight, ready to move quickly if he needed to. “Guess she’ll have to live with being disappointed.”
“And it’s you she’ll blame for it, not me,” George added, his smile twisting up at one side. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to be on her bad side. She don’t like it when folks she does a favor for throw it back in her face.”
“We didn’t ask for her help,” Vivian snapped. “So she can keep her disappointment to herself. And you can do like I said and get out.”
Bruiser George’s hat had fallen to the ground in the scuffle; he picked it up now and dusted it off carefully before settling it on his head. “I’m going, girlie. Good luck to you.” He glanced at the pawnbroker, who was still cowering on the ground. “You’re going to need it.”
Vivian didn’t let out the breath she was holding until the door shut behind him, the ringing of the little bell sounding like a warning as it hung in the air.
For a moment, no one inside the shop moved. Then Leo turned to the pawnbroker. “You all right?” he asked, holding out his hand.
The pawnbroker didn’t take it, scrambling to his feet on his own and staring at them fearfully. He inched toward the counter as he spoke. “You kick your friend out, then act all nice to make me talk, huh? Think you can play me like that? Get out before I call the police.”
“We’re not trying to play anything,” Vivian insisted as the man took a sudden dive behind the counter. “We just have a few questions, that’s all. About a necklace you sold—”
She broke off as the pawnbroker emerged, a shotgun in his hands. “I said get out of my store,” he ordered, leveling it at them. His voice and his hands were both shaking.
“Easy, mister,” Leo said, reaching out to grab Vivian’s wrist and tug her toward him. “We’re going, okay? No need to get jittery with that thing.”
“Will you talk to just me?” Vivian asked, feeling desperate as Leo began to pull them both slowly toward the door. “I’m harmless, honest. Look at me, you can tell I got nothing on me. Please, I just need to ask one question.”
“Viv,” Leo warned, his voice low and urgent.
“Please,” she begged, planting her heels and meeting the man’s eyes. He looked as terrified as she felt. She wondered what had happened to him to make him keep a shotgun under his store’s counter. “I’m worried about a friend.”
The pawnbroker stared at her, considering, as he slowly lowered the gun. “He waits outside,” he said at last, jerking his chin at Leo.
Vivian nodded. “Get gone, pal,” she said, her attempt at a teasing tone getting stuck in her bone-dry throat. She swallowed. “I’ll be okay.”
“Viv—”
“Please,” she repeated, turning her head just enough to meet his eyes.
He looked miserable and furious, but at last he nodded. He glanced back at the pawnbroker. There was a clear warning in his voice as he said, “I’ll be just outside. And she’s real important to me.”
The pawnbroker jerked his head again. “Outside.”
The menacingly cheerful bell rang out once more as Leo left, and then Vivian was on her own. She swallowed. “Thanks, mister. I won’t take up much of your time.”
He eyed her for a tense moment, then put the shotgun back under the counter. “Ask your question.”
Vivian tried to smile, but the expression got stuck halfway and her lips barely twitched. “My friend’s fella gave her a necklace, and he said he bought it here. Is it possible to check whether he was telling the truth?”
The pawnbroker narrowed his eyes at her. “Her young man gives her jewelry and this makes you worry? Why?”
“She thinks he mighta lied,” Vivian said, telling part of the truth in the hope that it would be more convincing than an outright lie. “She’s worried he stole it.”
“If your friend worries her young man is a thief and a liar, she shouldn’t be stepping out with him, no matter where the necklace came from,” the pawnbroker said, starting to turn away.
“All right, I think he stole it,” Vivian admitted, desperate.
“I knew someone who had a necklace like the one he gave her, but someone stole it. It has me worried for her.” She met the pawnbroker’s eyes.
There was a chance, if he had the transaction recorded, that whoever had stolen the necklace had pawned it, and Abraham buying it for Bea had been nothing but a coincidence. Either way, she had to know. “Please.”
She held her breath while he stared at her. At last, he pulled a red handkerchief out of his pocket and ran it across his forehead. “Gold necklace, you said? Locket with a rose on it?”
“Yes,” Vivian said, nodding. “Pretty little thing. Simple. Not cheap, but nothing real fancy either. The rose was kinda … like this?” She held her hands out in the shape of a wide cup, like a blossom that had fully opened. “Does that sound familiar?”
“No,” the pawnbroker said at last. “I don’t recall such a thing. But let me check my records.” He gave her a stern look. “You don’t move one inch, you hear?”
“Yessir.” Vivian nodded quickly.
He disappeared under the counter for barely a moment before he emerged once more with a thick, heavy notebook. “When did your friend receive this necklace? Recently?” he asked, paging through it.
“This week,” Vivian said. “Though I can’t say for sure when he would have bought it.”
He glanced at her from under bushy eyebrows, then turned back to his records, flipping through several pages, then scanning the closely written columns. At last he lifted his head. “Well, your friend’s young man is lying about something. He didn’t buy anything like that here.”
Vivian felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped in her chest. “Are you sure?”
He gave her a sour look. “Yes. I keep very detailed records. I have to.”
“Right.” Vivian nodded rapidly, several times. What the hell was she going to tell Bea? And would her friend even believe her? “Thanks for your help, mister.”
She turned away, and as she did so, her eye was caught by the silver candlesticks she and Leo had been looking at earlier. She froze, staring at them for a moment, before spinning back around. “One more question?”
The pawnbroker’s jaw clenched, but he gave a single, curt nod. “One more.”
“The candlesticks there, the silver ones with the filigree and the grape vines and poppies. Who brought those in?”
He raised his eyebrows. “You want me to look it up?”
“Please,” Vivian said faintly.
“You think your friend’s fella stole those too?”