“What about me?” Calvin asked.
“Got anything to share?”
“No.”
“Filthy liar,” I stated.
“Are you still at the Emporium?”
“Ah, yes. Max is right here.”
“Hi, Calvin!” Max called obediently.
“Earl… his bag was never recovered. By all accounts he religiously carried it, but it was never found at the museum, his home, anywhere. I believe there’s still at least one or two missing artifacts, which I hope to confirm with the FBI, but I suspect them to be in his bag. Wherever that is.”
“Maybe Richard’s been holding on to it all these years. Maybe whatever the item is, it’s been too hot to sell, so he’s had to wait,” I supplied.
“You’re on the same wavelength as me,” Calvin quietly admitted. “I’m in the process of getting some officers over to his apartment.”
Max nudged my shoulder as the taxi pulled to a stop on the side of the road. He pulled some cash out of his wallet and reached through the window to pay the driver.
“I’ll let you go,” I quickly said.
“Be safe,” Calvin said before hanging up.
Max and I got out of the cab, and it made a sharp turn to once again get lost in the sea of traffic. I looked at the storefront we’d been dropped off in front of. The sign and front window to Gold Guys were hidden amongst temporary scaffolding. Hammering and general construction noise echoed from overhead, mixing with the honking of horns in Midtown traffic, chattering groups of tourists, and one guy at the corner screaming about the world ending this coming Tuesday.
Ah, the music of New York.
“What did Calvin say?” Max asked as he led the way to the door, then waited outside of it for me.
“He’s got officers heading over to Richard’s. Apparently the guy who was murdered, his bag went missing, which may still have some of the stolen items inside. I guess it’s a pretty clear-cut case if the bag is found in Richard’s home.”
“Does it count if you didn’t uncover it, though?” Max asked. “You said this freak is makingyousolve the cases.”
I hesitated.Didit count?
“You didn’t give Calvin the address to this place.”
“No. It’d be unfortunate if he found us here.”
“You mean, you don’t want him to get information before you,” Max corrected.
“What can I say, I hate sharing.” I opened the front door and stepped inside.
The pawnshop was brightly lit with overhead fluorescent lights, casting a strange glow on items hanging on the walls. I had to look away and focus on the floor instead.
Max whistled from behind me as he walked in. “Cool place.”
“Is it? I can’t see.”
“Oh shit. What can I do to help?”
I shook my head and held a hand up to shield the top of my sunglasses as I stepped toward a glass display that had a man and woman organizing what I guessed was fine jewelry.
“Hey,” the man said. He was a big, meaty-looking guy, with close-cropped hair. “Welcome to Gold Guys.” He reached out and shook my hand. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Gerald Topper,” I said.
