Page 18 of The Con Artist


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“And take the chance of you running? No thanks.”

“You already said I have no chance in hell of getting out of here, so where would I run to?”

He led me to his office and set me down in his high back burgundy leather chair. Opening his laptop, he pulled up a Word document.

“Type.”

“What the hell do you want me to say?” I asked.

“I don’t know. You’re the expert at lying. You can steal from people without them knowing, but you can’t type a simple letter?” His brow arched.

Rolling my eyes, my fingers began clicking across the keyboard.

“There. Good enough for you?” I spoke with an attitude.

“Good enough.” He hit the print button and the letter spewed from his printer.

When he went to grab the paper, I stopped him.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”

“What? Why?”

“He could have it analyzed for fingerprints. And if he does, how would you explain your prints all over the paper? Common sense, Gabriel.” I smiled.

“So what the hell do I use?”

“Do you have a pair of gloves?”

“In the closet, I do.”

“Then I suggest you get them, and we’ll need to wipe the ring clean before you stick it in the envelope.”

“Wait a minute. Wouldn’t your fingerprints be all over his place?”

“Liquid adhesive bandage.” I held up my hands to him and wiggled my fingers.

He took in a deep breath, closed his laptop, and spoke, “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’m very serious.”

He slowly shook his head. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Within a matter of seconds, he returned to his office with a pair of black leather gloves on his hands. He folded up the letter, put the ring in a small plastic baggie, and retrieved a long envelope from his drawer. Pulling out his phone, he made a call.

“Carl, I need you to deliver something for me.”

“Wait,” I spoke.

“Hold on, Carl. What?” He looked at me.

“You need to put it in his home mailbox because he’s going to interrogate every person in that building until he finds out who delivered it. If you use a delivery service, he’ll contact them, and they’ll describe you or whoever you send. It’s too risky. But wait; he has security cameras inside and outside his house. He’ll see you.”

“Forget it, Carl.” He sighed as he ended the call. “Now what?”

“Let me take it to a delivery service.”

He laughed. “Hell no. You think I’m stupid? You aren’t leaving this house, sweetheart.”

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