Friday Morning
North Kingston, NS
The pawn shop wasn’t open yet. Without so much as a dime in his pocket Charlie could not buy breakfast so he settled down to wait. He found a back corner, sheltered from the wind and heated by the building against which he leaned. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it was comfortable enough for him to doze off.
When he woke, it was to the smell of coffee somewhere close by. Boy! What he wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee!
He hauled himself to his feet and went back down the street to the Pawn Shop. He pushed on the door and let himself in.
The proprietor’s smile faded as he took in Charlie’s generally disreputable appearance. “How can I help you?”
Charlie had already pulled the largest of the diamonds out of its hiding place and had it in his hand. “You want the truth?”
“That is usually the best choice.”
“I have run away from home, had my cash and credit cards stolen, and need to sell something to get back on the road.”
“You don’t look as if you have anything I’d be interested in.”
Charlie nodded. “I don’t blame you for doubting me. I’m sure you have to be careful.” He pulled out the fake ID and glibly recited the information on it. Reggie had gone to the trouble of making it look as if the Texas driver’s license had been in “Pete’s” wallet for at least a year and the immersion in the Bay of Fundy had added to that effect.
Charlie then pulled out the diamond and set it on the counter. He scowled at it. “I should never have bought that thing in the first place.”
The proprietor picked up the stone, then pulled a loupe out of his pocket. He examined the gem closely and Charlie could see something that looked remarkably like greed in his eye, just for a moment.
“You had this hidden?”
“I did.”
“Very foresightful of you.”
Charlie shrugged.
“How do I know it’s not stolen?”
Charlie was prepared. Ginny had given him particulars on the gemstones, knowing he’d probably have to negotiate with a suspicious buyer. He pointed at the stone.
“That is a one carat round, VS1, clarity grade E, cut grade ideal, for which I paid almost five thousand U.S. dollars last November.”
“May I ask why you bought it?”
“I was planning on having it set as an engagement ring.”
The proprietor looked up from the stone. “And why are you selling it now?”
“Because the woman I bought it for is why I’m not at home right now. I expect I’ll get over the mad eventually and go back to Texas, but even then, I won’t want that stone. I’d much rather have a motorcycle.”
The proprietor’s lips twitched. He set the diamond back down on the velvet tray. In the lights of the jewelry counter, it exploded with fire and in that moment Charlie saw why a woman might want a colorless stone. He’d never understood that before.
“We don’t deal in loose stones. There’s no market for them.”
Charlie looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “Ever been married?”
“No.”
“Take my advice. Steer clear of it.” He pointed to the diamond again. “When I showed that to her she said it wasn’t big enough. That’s when I decided she wasn’t sweet enough.” He sighed. “Look, I get it. You don’t trust me. Why should you? But here’s the deal. I don’t want that stone. I need money and I’m willing to take a loss on it. Can you help me?”
The proprietor looked at him for a long moment.
“One thousand, Canadian.”
“Three.”
“Fifteen hundred and that’s my final offer.”
Charlie looked at him, then nodded. “I’ll take it and chalk the rest up to experience.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll start the paperwork.”
It took him twenty minutes to fill in all the information necessary to complete the sale, at which point Charlie picked up the money and thanked him.
“If you ever get to Texas, look me up. I’ll show you around the spread and you can pet a longhorn.”
Charlie let himself out of the shop, thinking that Ginny had been right about the stones and about how hard it might be to use them, but the plan had actually produced some badly needed cash so he was happy.
He turned up the street, located a diner and bought himself breakfast. He sat in a booth with his back to the rest of the room and watched the TV screen. Sure enough, before he had finished, his face appeared. This time the banner said he was presumed dead and the police were hunting for the body.
So he was dead, was he? That should take some of the heat off. He ran his hand over his chin. Maybe he should keep the face fungus. A beard would make a good disguise.
He finished his meal, threw some money down on the table and headed out to the motorcycle store. He had no trouble finding it, but there he hit a snag.
Not only were the used machines too expensive (the cheapest costing twice what he had in pocket), but the regulations required documents he didn’t have (motorcycle rider’s license and insurance). He reluctantly gave up the idea and asked for advice on how to get to Halifax.
He was directed to a car hire service on the other side of the highway, in Kingston (not the same as North Kingston, you understand). Here he had a bit of luck.
First, the salesman at the motorcycle shop gave him a ride. (They had struck up a friendship over inspecting the machines.) Second, the car hire had a car available and the owner wanted it delivered to the Halifax airport.
The man behind the counter was on the phone. “What do you mean you can’t?” There was a pause. “I don’t have anyone else!” A violent and frustrated gesture with the left hand. “You can be sick later. Suck it up and get over here.” Clenched fist and dark scowl. “Don’t bother.” If it had been a landline, Charlie was sure he would have seen the receiver slammed down. As it was, the owner of the device stabbed at it hard enough to mark the screen.
The proprietor took a deep breath, then turned to Charlie, not yet able to be cordial, but trying to be professional.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m told I can get a ride from here to Halifax.”
The man behind the counter looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “Halifax?”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“Yes. Is that going to be possible?”
“No. My driver is sick.”
“Is there a bus station, then?”
The proprietor shook his head. “The buses stopped running years ago. Not enough demand.”
“Train, then?”
“You’ve missed it.”
Charlie felt his spirits sag. Was he going to have to walk to Halifax after all?
The man behind the counter looked at him, frowning slightly. “Can you drive a car?”
Charlie looked back. “I can, but I can’t rent one. My credit cards were stolen.”
The agent’s eyes narrowed. “You look like you’ve been through the wars.”
Charlie agreed. “I was mugged and tossed in a snow drift two days ago. But I have friends in Halifax who can help, if I can reach them.”
The other man sucked in his cheeks. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I did. They filed a report and said they couldn’t take me all the way to Halifax.”
The man eyed him in silence for moment.
“You got any money?”
Charlie nodded.
“What about a license?”
Charlie pulled out Laredo Pete’s driver’s license and handed it over.
The agent looked at it, then at Charlie, then seemed to make up his mind.
“The company won’t let me rent a car without a credit card, but I can hire anyone I want to ferry cars from place to place.” He looked down at the driver’s license. “Texas. Never met anyone from Texas before.”
Charlie smiled. “Well now you have.”
The other man nodded. “Normally I’d use a local man, one I know and who lives here so I can track him down if I need to.”
Charlie nodded. “Sound policy.” He waited for the ‘but’.
“But I am between a rock and a hard place.” He fell silent, obviously weighing the risks. Charlie waited patiently.
The agent heaved a big sigh, then seemed to warm up to the idea.
“I have a contract to deliver a car to the Halifax airport. It has to be there by three p.m. My driver is sick and I will have to go myself if I can’t replace him.” He studied Charlie’s face for another long moment and Charlie began to be afraid he would make the connection with the news reports.
“Are you willing to drive to the Halifax airport and leave the car there and can you get there before three p.m.?”
Charlie nodded. “I am and I can.”
The agent nodded. “All right, then. I’ll call my contact at the airport. He’ll pay you two hundred, cash, when you deliver the car in good condition and on time.”
Charlie stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
The other man shook it. “I’ll have the GPS tracker on. Don’t break the law. I don’t want any questions. You’re responsible for gas. Make sure the tank is full when you turn it in.”
“Yes, sir.”
The agent glanced at the clock. “Better get started.”
He came around the counter and spotted Charlie’s limp.
“Can you drive with your leg like that?”
Charlie nodded. “As long as it’s an automatic.”
“It is.” They went out to the lot and the agent made sure everything was in order, then waved as Charlie drove out of the parking lot.
Charlie found himself wondering just how often human beings were willing to ignore common sense for the sake of profit. He shrugged, then pulled out onto Nova Scotia 101 and headed for Halifax.
* * *