The Bitterest Pill

Thirty-seven

He had five places to visit while in Boston. Only four of the visits were scheduled. His first stop was the unscheduled one. Precious Pawn and Loan was on Washington Street in the South End. Precious Pawn bore almost no resemblance to the old three-balls-above-the-door dumps he’d been familiar with in L.A. The ones on skid row, in East L.A., and in Compton. The ones that sucked the blood out of the poor and the desperate. But Jesse knew the days of those dives were over. He bet if he went back to L.A. now, the pawnshops in those places would look as cleaned-up and neat as Precious Pawn did. These days, pawnshops looked almost like respectable jewelry stores. Hell, there were even TV shows about pawnshops. Jesse knew the truth. Many pawnbrokers worked both sides of the street, as fences and as snitches for the cops. And if he wasn’t already sure about the relationships among brokers, bad guys, and cops, Jesse’s AA sponsor, Bill, knew the deal. He had once been a fence in Boston and had done time for it.

It made perfect sense. Pawnbrokers knew the real value of things and commodities. They were expert negotiators and traveled in many different circles. Still, to stay in business, licit and illicit, and to stay alive, pawnbrokers often had to skirt the line. Everyone involved understood the rules. It was not too dissimilar from how it worked in the drug trade. Even the soulless people at the top of the drug cartels understood that they had to occasionally sacrifice people in their own organizations to the law. It was the price of doing business.

Jesse had made sure not to dress in anything remotely coplike. He was in a blue sports jacket, a plain gray sweater, faded jeans, and running shoes. Upon entering Precious Pawn and Loan, he strode through the aisles, eyeing the rings, watches, bracelets. He stopped to look at the rare books, which included signed first editions of Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour novels. Jesse had a real weakness for Westerns, books and movies. Part of that was a result of growing up in Tucson. The larger part of it was simply a matter of who he was and what he stood for.

A woman’s voice interrupted his reverie. “Are you a big reader or a collector?”

Jesse stood up, looking away from the glass. The woman on the other side of the display case was in her late thirties or early forties, blond, with light blue eyes. She was attractive if not exactly pretty, wore lots of makeup and enough jewelry to open her own kiosk at a mall. She had a bright white smile and clicked her long, silver-painted nails against the case, waiting for Jesse’s answer.

“More of a reader,” he said.

“My name’s Jolene. I would be happy to show you one of the books if you’d like.”

He smiled back. “No, thank you, Jolene.” He reached into his pocket and came out with the pawn receipt and ticket Peter Perkins had found in Chris Grimm’s room. He slid it across the glass to Jolene. “I’d like to check to make sure this item hasn’t been sold. If it’s still here, I’d like to see it. I might want to buy it back.”

Jolene went white and her hand trembled slightly. There was something about the receipt or the ticket that set her off. Jesse knew what he was doing. If the transaction between Chris Grimm and the store had been legitimate, she would simply have excused herself and gone into the back to retrieve the item. Her reaction was anything but casual.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, smiling, getting her legs back under her, her hand steadying. “I have to check with my manager to see if this item is on hand. We sometimes send items to our storage units, and I believe this item may be off premises.”

Jesse acted his part. “You can tell that just by looking at the number on the ticket? That’s remarkable.”

She smiled at him again, thinking he was a rube. “Not the number, sir. The color. Items with blue tickets are often the ones we send to our off-site storage units.”

“I see.”

He was quiet, waiting for her to make the next move. He was sure she was hoping he would either leave or say he’d return the following day to give her time to retrieve the item. She might as well have hoped for him to sprout wings. Eventually, she caved.

“Let me go speak to my manager.”

“Sure, Jolene.”

Jesse watched her maneuver between the cases on high black heels and disappear behind a mirrored door at the rear of the shop. As he watched her, he was aware he was being watched as well. There were security cameras all over the place. Jesse just went back to admiring the books. Fifteen minutes passed. Clearly they were hoping he would leave. He didn’t.

A man claiming to be the manager appeared in front of Jesse at minute sixteen. Fifty, white, clean-shaven, slightly overweight, and dressed in an expensive suit and custom-made shirt with French cuffs, he introduced himself as Jerry.

“I’m sorry, sir. I believe Jolene told you this item might be in one of our storage units.”

Jesse smiled at him. “That’s right.”

“I’m afraid she was mistaken, Mr....”

“Stone.”

“Mr. Stone. Yes, well, the item was sold as per our agreement as stated on the ticket.” Jerry pointed to some small print in high legalese written on the receipt. “If the person who offers the item up as collateral doesn’t return within that specified period to reclaim the item and pay what’s due, we have the right to offer the item for sale. I’m sure you understand. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

Jesse wasn’t quite ready to leave it at that. “You see, Jerry, my son ran away from home and there are items missing from our house. My wife and I hadn’t wanted to pursue it, but it’s been many months since he left and some of the things he took have great sentimental value to us. Is there any way you could tell me what item or items Chris pawned on this ticket?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I don’t have the time to search our records right now, but if you make an appointment to come back in, I’m sure we can do something. But take my advice, Mr. Stone, let it go. No matter what your son pawned, it’s gone now and there will be no way for us to retrieve it. I’m sure you understand.”

Jesse left it there for the moment. He had found out enough for the time being and didn’t want to push so hard that they would become suspicious.

“Thank you, Jerry, and please thank Jolene.”

“Good luck, Mr. Stone. I hope your son comes back and that things work out.”

The insincerity in Jerry’s voice got to Jesse, but he walked out without answering or looking back.