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Magnus and Carter peered through the front glass of the ‘Down On Your Luck?’ pawnshop. The inside perimeter was lined with glass counter displays that housed expensive watches, rings, necklaces, and other silver and gold collectibles. Another counter was filled with shelves lined with 9mm handguns.
Rare, lavish paintings hung on the walls behind the counters. Even though the pawnshop was filled with luxurious items, Magnus didn’t see any customers milling around.
“This looks like the safest place to sell these,” Magnus said.
“Why?”
“We’ll have our privacy. The less people that know about these MarQuebes, the better.”
Carter shook his head. “Looks like the name of the shop is appropriate. The owner seems down on his luck.”
“Well, his luck and ours are about to change.”
Magnus pulled the door inward. A set of bells rattled against the top of the door. Only one man stood behind the counter. Boredom couldn’t have been sketched any better. The bells quickly aroused his interest. His eager eyes clued Magnus to believe that the man’s afternoon had been dead, and that perhaps, at last, he’d make a profit.
Magnus and Carter approached the counter, and the man’s eagerness turned to suspicion while he watched them. Of course, Magnus’ apparel didn’t lead anyone to believe he’d be worth the time to talk to, and Carter’s shirt led one to believe he was a devoted Roswell fanatic, which meant he probably wasn’t a high roller in the casinos, either. The shop owner’s clothes definitely displayed a man down on his luck. The man wore a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off. Loose strings hung from where the sleeves had once been sewn. The blue tattered threads intertwined with the man’s hairy arms.
The man’s hand moved out of sight beneath his overhanging jacket to his belt. Magnus automatically assumed the man was armed, as any pawnshop owner should be because desperate people often performed the most unexpected crimes.
“How are you doing this evening, sir?” Magnus asked.
The owner’s frown narrowed. When he swallowed, his bulging Adam’s apple bobbed down and up again. “The only person around here to be addressed as sir would be my father.”
“Is he around?” Magnus asked.
“No, but I’m in charge until he gets back from vacation.”
Magnus sighed. “I see. And you are?”
“Call me Eli,” he replied.
“Looks like business is slow today,” Carter said.
Eli shrugged. “It varies day to day. Today’s been an extra slow one.”
“It happens, I suppose,” Magnus said.
“What can I help you boys with?” Eli asked with slight agitation. “You don’t seem to be toting anything, so I’ll assume you’re interested in buying somethin’? But from the looks of it, you ain’t looking too well off on the money side, either.”
“As a matter of fact, I think we can work some sort of a deal.” Magnus slid his hands into his pockets.
Eli’s hand moved and the front of his denim jacket opened to reveal that he held the butt of a .45 revolver. His eyes narrowed. “Exactly what kind of deal are you talking about?”
“Easy,” Magnus said. “No reason for you to become alarmed. Show him the gems, Carter.”
“Gems?”
Eli glanced toward Carter’s silver briefcase, expecting Carter to open it to retrieve the gems. But instead Carter tucked the briefcase under his arm, and pulled the small envelope of MarQuebes from his back pocket. He slowly and carefully poured the stones onto the glass-topped counter. They rattled softly like a small bag of shaken marbles.
Eli’s eyes widened. “Don’t move. Stay right there.”
Magnus felt his heart increase. He was certain this man was going to call the authorities.
Instead of taking out a cellphone, Eli hurried to the door, flipped the open sign over to ‘closed,’ and locked it before he rushed back to the countertop. A hypnotic gaze set in the man’s eyes as the stones shimmered from ruby red to purple and back to ruby again.
“Are these genuine MarQuebes?” Eli salivated and drool beaded at the sides of his mouth.
Magnus smiled, seeing the glow in the man’s greedy eyes at the sight of the gems. He and Carter were about to sell the gems without much of a problem. “Yes, sir, they are.”
“And uncut. Damn!”
Magnus and Carter nodded.
“How the hell did you boys get this many of these gems? Cut ones are damned near impossible to find. But to get uncut ones?”
Magnus folded his thick, muscled arms. “I’m afraid that we can’t tell you that. Are you interested? Or shall we look elsewhere?”
Eli placed both hands on the counter and shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m sure we can reach an arrangement that makes us both happy. What’s your price?”
Carter looked at Magnus and shrugged.
“Fifty thousand,” Magnus said without any hesitation.
Carter swallowed hard and in disbelief, he whispered, “Fifty thousand?”
Eli took a handkerchief, quickly wiping sweat from his brow. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“Once you cut and set these, you’ll make ten times that. Easy. Since they’re uncut, no one can trace them. You know how high the demand is. Hell, you said it yourself.”
“I know.” Eli eyed them shrewdly and sudden fear widened his eyes. “You two are cops, aren’t you? Trying to set me up. Dammit! I knew something like this was too good to be true.”
“No, sir. Far from it. But, hey, I understand your skepticism. If it’s too rich for you . . .”
Magnus scooped the stones into his massive hand and turned to walk away.
Desperation quivered Eli’s voice. “Wait. Now, I didn’t say, ‘no.’ Give me a few minutes to get the money together, okay? It’s in my safe. I’ll have to go get it.”
“That’s fine. But only under one condition.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“We stay in the same room with you at all times in case you get the urge to call the police.”
Eli shrugged. “Hey, that’s not a problem. The damn police are the last people I want inside my establishment. It doesn’t look good for potential customers along the strip to see cops hanging around.”
Magnus smiled. “I understand. We don’t want the cops here either.”
“Come on. Follow me to the back.”