8. The Pawn Shop
The Pawn Shop
The sun hid all day behind gray and black clouds.
A trickle of rain would start and then stop without end.
It felt like I had been transported over to England, except without the fish and chips, pubs, or those funny double-decker buses; it was dreary.
My mood felt like those clouds; in a rut.
That was until I thought of her again. I don’t know why, but she made me feel happy.
Like seeing a rainbow after a heavy storm.
“Detective Hernandez!” someone shouted as I entered.
I looked over to my right, and standing behind the counter, next to an old box TV set, was Lester.
He’d been the owner of this prime establishment for the past three years.
The Zebra Silver then our eyes met. It was her. Special Agent Sarfati.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Special Agent Sarfati said. The FBI contact for the case was in the pawnshop, standing by the old radios, and dressed in street clothes.
“Ha! No, no. I have papers for all items on sale. Just as we agreed,” Lester said, somewhat out of breath. “You know each other?”
“Yeah, from the local gym I go to,” I blurted out.
“Right!” Special Agent Sarfati said. “I’m just looking for an old cassette player. I plan to give it as a gift to my friend; he loves antiques.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I said, lost in her eyes.
She smiled, tapped me on the chest, and said, “Not yet.”
Then continued down the aisle, pretending to be looking for the cassette player. How’d she know about this guy? And why was she here?
All these questions ran through my mind as I turned my attention back to him.
“Lester, there’s been rumors going around that you’re back in the game,” I said.
“What? Me? No! No way! I’m straight as can be,” Lester said. His hand twitched as he talked. And his eyes kept scanning the room and looking at an old chest in the corner. He’s lying. I could tell. Lester had no poker face to speak of. And the money was too good.
“What’s in the chest?” I said, turning towards it.
“Not—nothing! It’s filled with old VCRs and radios. There might be a spider in there or two; I wouldn’t bother.”
“Spider’s, huh? Business is going well? Any new customers lately, Lester?”
“Oh, yes! Busy, busy, busy. So much work, I can hardly keep up! Listen, why don’t you come back at the end of the month? I have a special shipment coming in filled with things you’d like,” Lester said, rubbing his chin.
“You know what I like? Tempting. Or maybe you’re buying some time to move the stolen goods,” I said, tapping on the chest.
“I told you already! I don’t do that anymore!”
“Enough! I’m done playing games with you, Lester. I’m not searching for some trinkets or stolen car radios; this is serious.”
Lester twitched and backed away from the counter; he gave an exaggerated exhale, nodded, and said, “Alright, what do you want?”
“I’m looking for a couple of guys. They’ve been pretty active in the past two months and even pulled a job just down the way on Collins. The group has stolen well over a hundred grand in jewelry, and they’re going to need to move it,” I said.
“What do they look like?” Lester said. He averted his gaze and looked at the clock on the wall. It was a quarter to four.
“The three wore masks, but we know one has tattoos on his right arm. Have any of your old associates reached out to you?”
“Those guys? No! I haven’t spoken to anyone since I left the can,” Lester said.
“Someone died in the Collins robbery, Lester,” I said. He averted his gaze again and started fidgeting with his shirt. “If I find out you had a part in any of this, you’ll go down as an accessory.”
“What? Wait! I don’t do that stuff anymore, and I don’t talk to those guys. You’ve got to believe me. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. I promise,” Lester said.
“Alright, if you say so, Lester. If anyone tries to fence a large amount of jewelry, I want you to call me directly; you have my card,” I replied and turned to Special Agent Sarfati.
She was watching me through the products in the aisle; I walked over casually, trying to look normal, but deep down I could feel my heart beating feverishly.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I said sarcastically.
“No. Not yet,” Special Agent Sarfati said with a grin. “Want to grab some coffee? Catchup?”
“Yeah, I’d like that. Ms. Sarfati —.”
“Call me Isabelle. Or Belle for short; all my friends do,” Belle said.
“I’d love to. You can call me Alex,” I said, guiding her out to the exit.
“Hey! Wait! You horn dog! You just cost me a sale!” Lester screeched as we left.
We walked over to the coffee shop across the small parking lot from the pawnshop and grabbed some coffee.
Belle ordered a vanilla frappe; I got a cold vanilla iced coffee.
Then we found a nice secluded table at the end of the store and sat down for a chat.
Her hair had lost its shine and figure; in its place, a fuzzy and drooping wave emerged.
No doubt the Florida humidity was the cause, but I still liked it. I liked her.
“So, tell me. What have you learned?” Belle said, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Not much,” I replied flatly, taking a sip of mine.
“Well, that’s not good. Doesn’t inspire much confidence in you, Detective. I expected more,” Belle said, pulling out her phone.
“You guys didn’t give me a lot to work on, you know? And who told you about Lester?”
“I have access to all your records. The cases you’ve worked on and obviously a list of people arrested for selling stolen goods. I came to see him undercover; sorry for not reaching out, but I thought you’d make him skittish. Thanks, by the way.”
“For what? The coffee?” I said.
“For blowing my operation,” Belle said, sending a text.
“What!? You mean Lester?” I said. “He wasn’t going to tell you anything. Besides, in the past, whenever he got a huge score, he’d close up shop and leave town; he hasn’t done that.”
“Maybe. Or maybe they haven’t reached out to him yet. I wanted to work with him,” Belle said.
“Oh, I see. I get it now. You wanted to buy something at the store; get to know him a little and then offer to buy some fenced items or jewelry. Build a relationship in a way and then try to figure out if he’s in contact with those three,” I said.
“Exactly. I even got a budget of twenty thousand approved for it.”
“That sounds great and all, but you overlooked a minor detail in your genius operation,” I said, shaking my head.
“And that is?” Belle said, putting her phone away.
“He’s ex-military. Israeli intelligence, from what I was told.
He left the country in the nineties and settled in Brooklyn.
Then worked odd jobs until he semi-retired down in Miami Beach and opened that pawnshop.
He may seem like an easy mark, but he’s far from it,” I said.
Belle looked away for a moment, pouted, and then turned to me; her eyes seemed ablaze.
She gave me a bewildered look as if anything I said was going to stop her; as if his training would be enough to dissuade her.
“He’s not the only one,” Belle said, coming to her feet. “Coffee time is over. Call me if you learn anything; I’m needed back at the office.”
She left quickly. But for some reason, I didn’t want to see her go. I genuinely enjoyed talking to her, though I’m not sure she felt the same way.