Chapter 30

 

I lay awake long into the night, berating myself for not having examined the ring more closely before handing over the cash. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’d checked the team name and year, both were correct. It simply hadn’t occurred to me Livingston would have another team ring on hand to substitute. And that must be the case. He’d planned well in advance, and the scam was the big reason he’d been so willing to sell his new purchase. But still, if I’d only looked closely, handled the ring and read the inscription inside. I’d been such a fool.

On the other hand, Marcie Lorrento was the real fool, falling for Livingston’s pickup lines when all he really wanted was money. It would be interesting to see her reaction to the betrayal.

After stewing for hours over my own culpability, transferring the blame to Marcie and thoroughly chastising her in my mind, I gave up on sleep. I got out of bed to relieve Drake from my tossing and turning, pulled on a robe and went into his office. I closed the door, not wanting Freckles to think we were starting a new day already, and turned on the computer.

Where to start? At this point I had no idea whether Livingston was actually a collector or if he was in the business of turning a quick buck whenever he could. My guess was the latter, seeing as how he’d almost immediately agreed to sell his new purchase to me. I began my search by looking up football memorabilia for sale.

The search results were a bit overwhelming, with thousands of sites. I started with the largest and most popular. Several Super Bowl rings turned up, most with photographs from multiple angles and promises of squeaky-clean provenance.

I didn’t find Lorrento’s ring but I learned a bunch of the markers I should have checked. No wonder Livingston had been so cordial to me. He spotted me for the uneducated dope that I was. Again, I felt myself going down the blame path but steered the other direction. Whether my lack of knowledge or Marcie’s hormones were to blame, it didn’t matter. The job was now to retrieve the ring. Getting Livingston for fraud and grand theft would be the icing on the cake, and yeah, you betcha I planned to get this guy.

On to other sites listing football collectibles. Still no Lorrento ring. Okay, I decided, let’s switch to finding the man if we can’t find the ring.

Searches for Jay Livingston gave me a few leads. Unfortunately, there was an actor by the same name, a middle-aged guy who’d played minor roles in nearly every incarnation of Star Trek and had a list of film credits a mile long. His name came up with regularity in the searches, along with a John Livingston who made the circuit of motivational speakers claiming to offer the secret to make anyone’s life perfect. None of these Livingstons appeared to be the one I wanted, unless the man I’d met had managed to lose fifty pounds and twenty years since the actor’s publicity shots were taken. The speaker Livingston had the right physique, from what I could tell, but his sandy blonde coloring, vivid blue eyes and deep dimples didn’t match.

Okay, so the internet didn’t have all the answers. In the morning I would go back to square one, the pawnshop where Livingston had purchased the ring. Someone there would have a vivid memory of the man and maybe I could learn more.

I yawned and shut down the computer. Only when the room became dark did I realize I could see the faint light of dawn around the window shades. Cripes—I’d been awake all night. My eyeballs burned from the hours at the monitor. I blinked hard a few times to work up some moisture then tiptoed back to bed. Drake groaned and rolled toward me when I slipped under the covers. I nestled into his warmth and let the heaviness of sleep settle over me.

When I woke, bright sun cast a square of light through the glass block windows in the bathroom and beamed it via mirror to my shoulder. I squinted against it, but it pulled me toward wakefulness. Drake was nowhere in the room, but I could hear small sounds from the kitchen. A glance at the clock told me it was not quite seven-thirty. I’d had a full two hours’ sleep. Ugh.

I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head but it was no use. Names and places and photos from my hours online came rushing back at me. Even though I’d found nothing useful, I couldn’t seem to turn off the litany running through my brain. I stumbled to the shower and turned it as hot as I could stand, scrubbed shampoo into my scalp and then turned the rinse water to a tepid chill. Something in the routine would have to wake me up so I could function today.

Drake stood at the front door, jacket on, ready to walk out when I came out of the bedroom wearing my robe and wet hair.

“Hey, sleepy,” he said, walking toward me and planting a kiss on my forehead. “I left you a note, didn’t want to wake you.”

“You’re headed out early.”

“Yeah, today it’s Fish and Game. We’ll be up near Bandelier. I’ll call you when I’m ready to pull pitch. Well, the note tells you all that.” He stood back and looked into my eyes. “You didn’t get much sleep. You okay?”

I didn’t go into the full extent of the ring disaster, nor exactly admit my guilt over it, but I got the feeling he saw more than I realized.

“It’ll work out. It’s just having two cases going at once is leaving my mind a little scattered.”

He gave me a real, long-lasting kiss this time and promised to keep me updated about his flight. I watched him drive away, toying with the idea of going back to bed for awhile, knowing I’d never actually fall asleep. I poured coffee into the biggest mug I could find and strolled the back yard while I drank it. The flowering shrubs and trees were starting to leaf out and the grass was getting a bit long. If one of us didn’t find the time to mow soon we should call a yard man. I filed the task for later. There was too much going on right now.

Back in the kitchen I couldn’t think in terms of food yet, so I went into the bathroom to dry my hair and try to make myself presentable. I’m not big on primping. The whole routine took less than fifteen minutes, and I emerged with hair in a ponytail and a swish of blusher to show for my efforts.

Freckles danced around me, eager for another adventure today. She stuck by my side while I gathered my things and made certain she was at the car door the moment it unlocked. Up the street, I heard an engine and looked up to see the blue convertible coasting to a stop at the edge of my driveway.

“Hey, Charlie.”

I tossed my purse on my seat and closed the dog inside.

“Clover, hey. How’s everything?”

“Fine. Did you see the pics I posted after our picnic? The one with you and Freckles got a ton of likes. I put our selfies on Instagram and Snapchat too. Check ’em out.”

I nodded a little absently, thinking what a pain it would be to check all these social sites.

She revved her engine as I was about to ask how Zayne was doing, and with a wave she was gone. Oh well. At this moment recovering our other client’s diamond ring was far more urgent than wondering who liked me on Facebook.