The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [79]
The Dwarfs rattled off their losses. Four gold wedding bands, three watches, a black onyx ring, and several gold class rings. Their social security checks had just come in the mail, and they’d lost all their money as well.
“I can’t do anything about the cash, but I can get your jewelry back,” I said.
Sonny nearly came over the bar. “You can?” he said.
“Yes. Write it all down so I don’t forget anything.”
The Dwarfs made a list of the stolen items on a cocktail napkin. Sonny plopped a foaming draft beer down in front of me. I raised it to my lips, and saw the Dwarfs lift their glasses in a toast.
“Here’s to Jack getting our things back,” one of them proclaimed.
“Here’s to Jack,” the others chorused.
I drove to Hollywood, and took Sonny with me. There was a pawnshop on the main drag whose owner was doing five years in the state pen for fencing stolen goods. Not long after his arrest, the owner’s son had gone down for the same crime. A second son had taken over the business, and was cut from the same cloth. I went there first.
A bell rang as we entered. The shop was jammed with electronic equipment and wide-screen TVs. Electric guitars hung from the ceiling that looked like throwbacks to the Jimi Hendrix Experience. Behind a glass-topped counter filled with Rolex watches and glittering diamond rings sat son #2. His name was Burton, and he was eating a big wet sandwich wrapped in wax paper. His sleeveless shirt was unbuttoned to his naval, and was dotted with mustard and bits of cabbage.
“What can I do for you gents?” Burton asked.
“We’re looking for some jewelry,” I replied.
Burton spread his arms to indicate the assortment of items for sale. Sonny stuck his face to the glass in search of his father’s dog tags. Burton couldn’t watch us at the same time, and I turned around, and stared at the surveillance camera above the door.
“Something wrong?” Burton asked.
“Your surveillance camera is unplugged.” I turned back around.
“Learn that trick from your old man? Or did your brother teach you?”
Burton put his hand under the counter. “You want trouble? I’ll give you trouble.”
“Your father used to keep a Smith and Wesson back there. Ever have it cleaned?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I drew my Colt and aimed it at his chest. He quickly brought his hand up.
“Please don’t shoot me,” Burton said.
I put my Colt away. “A junkie came in here and pawned some jewelry he stole from my friends. By law, you’re supposed to record all sales on a video camera. You get around the law by unplugging the camera whenever you want to fence something.”
“You want the stuff back?” Burton asked.
“Yes. Then we can all go back to being friends.”
Burton opened the store safe. From it, a black felt bag was produced, its contents poured on the counter. “That’s all of it,” he said. I took out the napkin, and checked off the stolen items. Everything that had been stolen from the Sunset was accounted for, except Sonny’s father’s dog tags.
“Where are the dog tags?” I asked.
“I threw them out. They were garbage.”
Sonny leapt over the counter and laid a punch on Burton’s chin.
“I want my fucking tags,” Sonny said.
Burton pulled himself off the floor and led us outside. Four garbage pails sat by the back door. Burton said, “I threw the tags into one of these pails.”
Sonny kicked him in the ass and lifted him off the ground. “Find them.”
Burton pulled off the lids and started looking. It took awhile, but he eventually found the tags stuffed inside a wad of receipts. He wiped the tags on his shirt, and gave them to Sonny, then tried to shake Sonny’s hand to show there were no hard feelings. Sonny growled at him, and Burton lowered his arm.
“See you around,” I said.
CHAPTER 39
awoke the next morning feeling like I’d stepped back twenty years. My rented room above the Sunset looked like my old college dorm room. A few sickly pieces of furniture, and a mattress on the floor. Buster lay beside me, head resting on my chest.
I hit the beach and took my dog for a long run, followed by a hard twenty-minute swim. I was