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Delphine’s rose necklace belonged to her grandma. Her grandpa had bought it a long time ago as a gesture of his love. I don’t need to know the exact cost to know it was worth a decent amount—bothsides of Delphine’s family come from money.
It makes no sense for her attacker to steal an expensive necklace only to ditch it in some shitty pawn shop.
Unless he didn’t take it for the dollar amount; he took it because it meant something.
The man returns with a tray holding the rose pendant in question. He sets it down for our appraisal, smiling so wide he shows off a second gold cap on his molar.
“Is this the one?”
I carefully pick it up for a closer look. The delicate, now-broken chain dangles between my fingers as I hold up the rose pendant to the light. I’m no jewelry expert by any means, but I’ve acquainted myself with Delphine’s throat enough to memorize every last detail of the necklace that used to hang from it.
She never used to take it off.
During our relationship, at times where we enjoyed each other’s body, it was all she had on. Vivid moments I haven’t forgotten in twelve years.
“This is it,” I say. I pin the clerk with a suspicious, narrow-eyed glare. “Who sold it to you?”
“That’s confidential. We don’t reveal our customer details.”
“It doesn’t matter what you consider confidential. We need the name of who sold it to you.”
His gold-toothed smile spreads wider for puzzled laughter. He taps at a policy sign posted at the counter. “It’s confidential, pal. We don’t give away customer details. No exceptions.”
My jaw clenches and my glare darkens. “This is the last time I’m going to ask politely. Everybody here is civilized. Including myself. But I’m afraid you’re not understanding the importance of this situation. You’ll provide me a name or we’ll give you a special Christmas present. One you don’t want. One far worse than coal. One that involves removing those sweaty balls of yours that stink so much.”
“Whoa! You sick fuck! I’m calling security—”
I snatch the front of his shirt and drag him halfway over the glass counter. He squeals as I bring his greasy face up close to mine, my teeth gritted in a deep scowl.
“You give me the fucking name,” I growl. “You have five seconds or I’m sawing them off with the blade in my pocket. Left or right first?”
Others in the shop gasp and stop what they’re doing to stare at the sudden commotion. Omar holds up his arms in a futile attempt to block off what’s going on.
“Don’t mind us, everybody! Just a skit for social media. They’re rehearsing right now. Keep shopping!”
I don’t give a damn who’s watching. My grip on the guy’s shirt tightens and I watch the beads of sweat leak down the sides of his face. When he still doesn’t respond fast enough, I slam him down against the glass case and withdraw the flip knife in my back pocket.
“Let’s start with the left—”
“OKAY!” he shouts frantically, his cheek pressed into the glass. “Okay, okay... I’ll tell you who it is. Just let me keep my balls, please! The customer info’s in the back.”
“Show me.”
I hold on to his shirt with a tight fist as we walk around the counter and toward the backroom. Minutes later we emerge with piss stains on the clerk’s pants and the customer’s contact info in my possession—as well as Delphine’s necklace.
Isaac Azeria
The same piece of shit who broke into her apartment. He’s been eluding us for weeks now. He must’ve known when he trashed her place we’d be coming for him. He’s fallen off the map.
“What now, Psycho?” Omar asks.
“This phone number needs to be traced. It’ll give his location. The fucker can’t stay in the shadows forever.”
* * *
It doesn’t take long to track the location of Azeria’s phone through the number he left at EZ Pawn. Within the hour I’ve got an address in the Heinsberg Park area. It’s a borough known for crime and gang violence. It’s also territory the Mancinos have fought over with the Viscontis. In recent years, as the Viscontis have tumbled from grace, Lucius has moved in on the area and established dominance in the territory.
I ride over myself on my sports bike and Omar tails me in his truck. We’re getting to the bottom of whatever the fuck is going on today. If Azeria really is the guy who has harmed Delphine, then no amount of prayers to God can help him.
