Walt Murphy – PI – 49

Eber's arrest made the morning news, in the paper and on the city's TV channels. Detective Sharp, aka Tom, shared the glory by saying that he'd had the able assistance of Mr Philips, a well-known antiques dealer, and a local private investigator.

"So much for getting some free advertising," I grumbled when the newscaster moved on to the next story. "Local PI my ass."

"Think positively," Ricky said while he finished tying his tie, preparatory to leaving for work. "This way you don't get all the kooks trying to hire you to find or take care of whatever."

"I guess." I grabbed the tie, tugging on it. He rolled his eyes and let me pull him to me. "Dinner tonight?"

"Better than breakfast tonight," he replied, smirking. "Here or at your place?"

"I've been thinking about that." Which I had been for it seemed like forever, but more so the last couple of days. "Our lives would be much easier if you moved in with me."

He looked at me aghast, putting one hand on my forehead. "No. No temperature. Maybe you're a pod person and the real you is…"

"I'm serious," I growled. "It's about time I stopped being so… so protective when it comes to you."

"I agree," he replied softly. "I'm a big boy now. Although"—he grinned—"not quite as big as you."

"So you're willing to?" I asked, ignoring his joking around.

"Walt, I was willing to a month after we met."

"Then that's settled. And to answer your original question, I still owe you a fancy dinner because last night doesn't count, what with Caiazzo picking up the tab. How about The Odyssey?" I had a feeling he'd go for that because it was where we went on our first date a hundred years ago. Okay, not a hundred but…damn…almost six years ago

"Perfect," he said, giving me a hug. "Six-thirty and don't forget to…"

"Make a reservation. Yeah, yeah."

He smiled, kissed me very thoroughly, then said he'd see me tonight, adding, "And this weekend we'll move my stuff to your place."

"Our place," I said in no uncertain terms.

"Our place."

* * * *

I was humming when I walked into the waiting area of my office suite.

Chelsea looked at me, one eyebrow cocked. "Glad the Philips case is over?"

"Yep. And with no major damage to life or limb."

She snorted. "Other than a beating and a bullet wound, but who's counting." She studied me for a moment. "Wipe that silly grin off your face and tell me what's really going on."

"Ricky's moving in with me."

"Well it's about time!" She came over and hugged me. "Still, wipe off the grin. You've got a client coming in… Okay, she's here," Chelsea said when the hallway door opened.

The woman was tall, early forties I guessed and not bad looking. She introduced herself as Coleen Engel and said, as I escorted her into my office, "I have a big problem. I hope you can help me. I need to find my son."

The End 

Part Two - coming on Tuesday.

Walt Murphy – PI – 48

The first thing Ricky did I got to his apartment was look me over to be certain I really was okay. I assured him I was so, finally, he kissed me. I returned it of course, hoping it would lead to more than just kissing.

He quickly disabused me of that idea when he said, "I called Sanoma's and made a reservation. We're due there in fifteen minutes."

"Afraid I'd back out?" I asked with a laugh.

He grinned. "Well I do know you very well. So, yeah. All your thoughts to the contrary, food first and then bed, not vice versa."

Thus it was that we walked into the restaurant just a few steps behind Mr Caiazzo and a woman I presumed from her age was his wife. Unplanned, but none the less interesting. It became more interesting when he greeted me like an old friend and, after being introduced to Ricky, invited us to join him and—yes, she was his wife—for dinner. I was about to decline. After all this was supposed to be just Ricky and me. My way of apologizing to him for not calling. 

  

Ricky had other ideas. He accepted graciously for both of us, murmuring as we followed the Caiazzos, "You've told me so much about him, so…"

When we all were seated, Mrs Caiazzo insisted we call her Rosa before asking if we were customers of her husband's. I wasn't quite sure how to reply since I didn't know how much she knew of his side business.

Caiazzo solved that problem by telling her we'd met at Endless Reads when I needed his help in acquiring a certain book. 

She smiled. "Ah. Then I have you to thank for this, Walt." Call me unobservant but it wasn't until she touched the necklace at her throat that I realized she was wearing it. "Nicolò told me you helped him get it back from that awful man."

"I think he did more to help me, and my client, than I did to help him."

"Perhaps. In fact, knowing my husband, I'm sure that's the truth. Nonetheless, I'm grateful to have it back. It belonged to my grandmother. A wedding gift from her husband."

"How did Eber end up with it," Ricky asked, looking intrigued.

"He stole it," Caiazzo replied, looking a bit chagrinned. Then he chuckled. "He stole it from me. Can you imagine?"

  

"Why didn't you just steal it back? Or better yet, turn him over to the police?" I asked.

"I tried to get it back but I had no proof it was him. Just a suspicion because there was bad blood between us, surrounding… Well I won't go into why. He denied he'd taken it—of course—and my people had no luck in finding it. Ergo, I didn't know what he'd done with the necklace until you came to me with your story about Mr Philips."

"Giving you a chance to get a bit of revenge, so to speak."

"Exactly."

"Score one for the home team," Ricky exclaimed. Yeah, sometimes he acts like a teenager. I love him anyway.

After that we stopped talking about the case and enjoyed an excellent dinner with the Caiazzos. They are very nice people, and unless you knew better you'd think they were exactly what they seemed to be—a well-to-do bookstore owner and his gracious wife. I had the distinct feeling Rosa not only knew about her husband's side business, but supported his doing it. I even wondered if she was, or had been, one of his thieves. There was something about her—the way she observed everything that was happening with a knowing eye—that said she might be very good at it. No way would I ask though. It was none of my business one way or the other, and I didn't want to chance ruining what I thought might be the beginnings of a close friendship between the four of us.

The evening ended on a good note, with Caiazzo and I promising each other we'd keep in touch. Then Ricky and I returned to his place where the night ended on a very good note.

Walt Murphy – PI – 47

"You done good, to use the popular vernacular," I told Philips several hours later as we nursed our drinks at my favorite watering hole.  

"I tried to get him to say enough to hang himself," he replied. "Do you think I did?"

"Yeah. And more importantly, so did Detective Sharp or he wouldn't have come in when he did. From what he told me before we left the precinct house, Eber's lawyer is not a happy camper. Of course he'll try to negate what the cops got on tape, but since nothing Eber said was coerced and there wasn't any entrapment, I think he'll have a hard time of it."

"I hope." Philips managed a small chuckle. "I wish I knew who Eber was planning to sell the book to, so I could offer it to them."

"You can bet the price he gave was lower than what the book's worth. Besides, after all we've been through; do you really want to get rid of it?"

"Maybe not. One thing that still bothers me. Since he wasn't in possession of it when he was arrested, will that negate the fact that he stole it in the first place?"

"Good question. I can always ask Caiazzo to have his people return it to where they found it. But then it could be forever until you get it back because it'll become evidence when the case goes to trial."

"But if it's not there…"

"I have a feeling a good prosecutor can deal with that problem. After all, Eber did admit to stealing it. The fact that he"—I made finger quotes—"'lost track of it afterwards', is not your problem."

"I hope."

My phone vibrated just then. It was Ricky, wanting to know how everything had gone and why I hadn't called him. He was upset because, when he'd tried to call me—several times according to him—my phone had been turned off. Of course he knew why, but that didn't do anything to ease his anxiety.

"You should have let me know the second it was over," he grouched. "For all I knew you could have ended up in the hospital. Again."

"I know. I'm sorry," I told him contritely. "I'll make it up to you." I glanced at Philips and saw he was on his phone. I had the distinct feeling he was calling his wife, having heard my end of my conversation.

"I know you will," Ricky said. "Starting with dinner at… humm…"

I could almost hear the wheels turning as he tried to decide what very expensive place he wanted to go to. "Sanoma's," I suggested. It was one of his favorites and it wouldn't put too big a hole in my finances.

"Yeah. I like that idea. You have an hour to get home and dressed before picking me up."

"What makes you think I'm not home already?"

"Maybe the background noise? I bet you and Philips are at Dubb's."

I chuckled. "You know me too well." Then I realized it had to be later than I thought if he was off work, or about to be. A quick check of the time told me I was right. "Okay, I'll see you in an hour. Love you."

"Love you back—now. I was debating it a few minutes ago."

"I know. Honest, I am sorry."

"I believe you," he said softly before hanging up.

Philips looked at me with more than a bit of amusement. "I suspect Ricky was reacting the same way my wife did, so we'd better call it a night. At least I don't have to take her out to dinner. She's got it waiting at home and, according to her, it's getting cold."

"Then we're out of here." I laughed. "And I'll give you a ride home."

"Oh? Oh yeah. I forgot. Again."

"Next time, you drive," I said as we left.

"Next time?"

I shrugged. "Or something."

Walt Murphy – PI – 46

Philips hesitated, looking at me. I nodded, telling him, "If you don't, the big guy here or his partner will try to take the bag and I really am not in the mood for a fight at the moment. This is a brand new shirt."

"May I ask something?" Philips said as he opened the bag. "Do you have a buyer for the book, Mr Eber?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have gone to all this trouble to get my hands on it if I didn't."

"And that's a wrap," I said as the door burst open and Tom and two more officers came into the room, guns drawn.

The goons, of course, weren't too happy with the situation and went for their weapons. I got a bit of my own back for the beating they'd given me when I sank my fist into the burly one's gut. He should have known better than to take his attention off of me. He didn't go down, but he didn't get to his gun either. One of the officers took care of goon number three while Tom strode across the room in time to stop Eber from pulling a vanishing act. With burly still gasping for air, the second officer had no problem cuffing him.

Eber paled when Tom put handcuffs on him. "I don't know what you think you're doing. We were having a friendly discussion about a book I want to purchase from Mr Philips," Eber whined. "And you have no proof otherwise."

Tom chuckled dryly. "I beg to differ with you. We have your words on tape, so to speak."

"Impossible. We got rid it their wires," number three spat out.

"There are other… Nevermind." Tom rolled his eyes, looking at me. "Some people are so dumb they're only good for one thing. Being hired muscle."

I snorted. "That better not have been aimed at me."

"Not this time," he replied with a smirk. "We'll see about next time."

By then, the two officers were escorting Eber and his goons out of the room, Eber shouting that he wanted his lawyer "Right now!"

I think it finally sank in with Philips that it was over, because he dropped down on one of the chairs, trembling with relief. "Can we go home now?" he asked.

"Not quite yet," Tom told him. "The two of you will have to come down to the precinct to make your statements."

Philips nodded. "A guess I should be glad the shop's closed on Monday's." He managed a smile. "A bit of a non sequitur I know. Okay, if I must, I must."

"You must," I said. "And when we're finished, I opt we go out and have a few stiff drinks to celebrate."

"Now that I can definitely live with," he replied.

Walt Murphy – PI – 45

Eber smiled maliciously. "You know the answer to that. My promise not to turn you in to the police."

"It seems to me I'm the one who should be doing that to you," Philips countered. "After all, you stole the book."

"Only after you came into possession of the necklace."

"Actually," Philips said, "you took the book before I—supposedly—was given the necklace by a man who worked for you."

"To fence it for him."

"Hardly possible since first off, I'm not a fence, and secondly, I've never laid my eyes on this necklace you seem to think I have."

Talk about word games. Technically Philips was correct since laying his eyes on it would be a physical impossibility.

"My man assured me he'd left it with you," Eber replied with a knowing grin.

Philips shrugged. "He lied. That however has nothing to do with why we're here. You had someone steal the book, and apparently neglected to tell them they needed to get the provenance papers as well. That sort of leaves us in a bind. If I give you the papers, you'll be able to sell the book and I stand to lose a great deal of money. If I don't… well, as one of my employees is wont to say on occasion, you're SOL because you won't be able to sell it."

"If you'd kept the papers with the book…" Eber snarled then stopped, apparently realizing what he'd almost admitted to.

"I'm not a fool. I presume that's why you sent someone to break into my safe. To get them."

"We would have, if the cops hadn't shown up," Eber said, anger obviously overriding common sense now. "The fool missed the secondary alarm system."

"You were there?" Philips said, sounding surprised.

"Yes. I had to be certain he got the correct papers."

I almost smiled at Eber's revelation. Philips was very good at pushing the right buttons.

"You wouldn't have found them even if he'd been successful. I'm not stupid enough to keep them on the premises."

"But you have them with you now. Hand them over."

Walt Murphy – PI – 44

I think I shocked Philips when I showed up at his place wearing slacks, a good dress shirt, and a jacket, not my usual jeans and whatever. The jacket hid my gun, since I had no intention of doing this unarmed. Yeah, I might loose the gun if Eber had his people with him at the exchange, but until then… Well no one was going to get their hands on the bag Philips was carrying without a fight.

Tom's man was there as planned and got us wired on the way down in the elevator. The bug he used on me was less than an inch in size and flat enough to fit behind my belt buckle comfortably. The one he gave Philips was in a watch that perfectly matched the one he usually wore. That told me Tom had made note of the brand and style during our conversation at my office yesterday.

At the bank, all went exactly as planned and Caiazzo's man left with the necklace while Philips stored the book in his safety deposit box and put its provenance papers into his bag.

A minute after we left the bank, Philips got a call. When he hung up he said, "Apartment six-eleven."

I texted Tom to pass the number on to him and then we went back to my car. Scrawny goon was standing beside it.

When I approached him, he nodded. "I'll be coming with you."

"Only if you have your own car and follow us," I replied tightly.

Instead of answering, he opened the back door of my car, which should have been locked, and got in.

Sighing, I said, "I guess you are coming with me. I don't want to make a scene right now. But later…" I let that hang as Philips and I got into the front seat. I could see Philips' hands were shaking and I gripped his shoulder momentarily, telling him it was all right. I knew that was the truth when I saw a man I recognized as one of Tom's people watching us before going to a car parked two down from mine.

With the officer right behind us, we drove in tandem to the Royal Oaks, where Philips and I took the elevator up to the sixth floor. Scrawny goon remained in the lobby. Probably in hopes of keeping Tom's man from joining us. I figured he'd have no problem with that since the cop had parked across the street from the apartment building, but hadn't gotten out of his car.

Philips knocked on the door to six-eleven while I stood beside him, arms crossed, doing my impression of big, tough bodyguard. It was opened by the bigger, tougher looking goon who had been part of the team that had attacked me. He stepped aside to let us into the living room, saying, "The boss will be with you in a moment. But first we need to search you."

'We' turned out to be him and goon number three. They were thorough, down to using a bug-detecting scanner, so I lost my gun, and we both lost the wires, which they immediately destroyed. Not too surprising in the grand scheme of things, but it didn't matter if Tom's people were doing what they were supposed to.

Finally, a door opened at one side of the room and Eber appeared. "You have something for me?" he said to Philips.

"That depends. What do I get in return?" Philips replied sharply, his hand gripping the strap of his bag.

Walt Murphy – PI – 43

I got the meal, the company, and the sex. All were better than good. Then I went home, despite wishing I could spend the rest of the night with Ricky. I had to be up and moving early in the morning, and in the right frame of mind for dealing with Eber. That would be hard to do if Ricky and I were naked in his bed when the alarm went off.

My phone vibrated just as I walked into the house. The call was blocked, meaning it wasn't from Ricky or Philips. I stepped back outside, just to be safe. I'd been gone all day and who knew if Eber would have taken a chance and bugged the place.

"Murphy here," I said.

"I have the item you're interested in," Caiazzo told me.

"That was fast."

He chuckled. "I have good people who happened to get lucky. The fool had it in his home safe. He needs to upgrade. Be that as it may, what time will Philips be at the bank?"

"We'll be there at nine. It's First Central, on Vine."

"Okay. I know the layout. He's to bring a carry bag."

"Already in our plans."

"Good. When you get to the bank you'll see two cash machines on the left hand wall. Have Philips stop there, put the bag down and make a withdrawal. My man will be at the other one and he'll put the book in the bag."

"Got it."

"When you're ready to leave, he'll be in the waiting area next to the safety deposit boxes. Give him the necklace. I'm presuming it's in a box that will fit in a jacket pocket?"

"Yes," I replied.

"He'll check to make sure the necklace is in it and then our business is finished."

"Thank you for your help."

"It's my pleasure."

"One question. Why are you willing to trade down, so to speak?"

"Let's just say Eber and I didn't see eye-to-eye on something. I owe him as a result."

"That works. Okay, I'll let you go now."

Caiazzo chuckled. "I called you but, yes, it's time to say good night, Mr Murphy."

Walt Murphy – PI – 42

While we waited for Philips to arrive, Tom and I discussed how he'd have us wired so that Eber's people—because for sure he wouldn’t come alone—couldn't find the listening devices. I was suitably impressed with what the cops had in the way of equipment—making mental notes to check out a couple of them. We came up with a two-pronged attack. Philips and I would be wired with miniature mikes that could only be found if Eber had a detector. Tom would also have an officer stationed on a rooftop across from the apartment with a parabolic listening device and another one in the hallway outside the apartment with a wall mike.

"And if that doesn't cover all bases," Tom said dryly, "then I'm in the wrong line of work."

A knock on the hallway door told me Philips had arrived. At least I hoped it was him. Not being totally stupid, I took out my weapon and held it behind my back as I unlocked the door. It was Philips. He must have been getting used to things, because he seemed more accepting than scared when I holstered the gun. I saw Tom doing the same with his. I guess he wasn't stupid either. No surprise since he's a cop.

After introducing the two men, I let Tom take the floor since at this point it was more his show than mine.

"What time do you plan on being at the bank?" he asked Philips.

"Nine, when I can get into my safety deposit box."

"At which point," I said, "someone will join us to trade the book for the necklace."

"Which bank?"

"First Central, on Vine."

"Okay. Do you have a house or an apartment, Mr Philips?"

"A condo actually, in a building on the east side." He gave Tom the address.

"Good. Walt, you'll pick Mr Philips up, since you're his bodyguard. That way we can wire you both at the same time. My man will be in the building when you get there. How many elevators are there, Mr Philips, and what floor are you on?"

"Two elevators, the fifteenth floor, and please call me Bailey," Philips said.

Tom nodded. "Okay. So, Walt, you go up to Bailey's place. My man will follow five minutes later, getting off one floor below then taking the fire stairs the rest of the way. He'll wait by the elevator and join you when you leave."

"He can wire us before we get to the lobby?" Philips asked in surprise.

"Yep. With the wires we're using it doesn't take much time at all. He'll get off one floor before you two do, and then you're on your way to the bank."

"Will you have someone there too?"

"Yes." Tom took out his phone. A moment later he said, "The bank opens at eight. That will give me time to have someone set up there—probably pretending to be another customer wanting to get into their box."

"You think Mr Eber will have someone watching?"

"Let's just say I'm taking no chances. That especially goes for after you two leave the bank."

I nodded. "In case he tries to pull a fast one and have his goons jack us for the papers."

"Exactly."

"Not a happy thought."

"I doubt he will. He's going to want to be sure they're the real thing. But I'm not taking any chances."

I tapped my fingers together. "We could make sure that doesn't happen. Bailey, do you have a briefcase or a carrying case?"

"Yes."

"Good. Bring it with you. That way, whoever he has watching us will have to second guess whether you actually got the papers from your box, or if you're trying to pull a fast one and you're carrying fake ones in the briefcase. Only Eber would know for certain and not until he sees them."

"Good idea, Walt," Tom said. "Now as soon as Eber let's you know which apartment he's using at the Royal Oaks, you text me, Walt. We'll be there and ready by the time you two arrive."

I nodded. "Then all we have to do is prod him into saying something that implicates him in the theft of the book. That's your job, Bailey, since I'm just the strong, silent bodyguard."

"I can do that," Philips replied confidently.

I just hoped he was right.

We spent a few more minutes ironing out details and then called it a day—or an evening since it was already going on six. They took off, and I called Ricky to let him know I was on my way over. I needed good food, good company, and if I got lucky—which I was sure I would—good sex before heading home to my place.

Walt Murphy – PI – 41

"Can we say the necklace is a non-issue at this point?"

"No. If it's a stolen item it has to be returned to the original owner." Tom looked at me, frowning. "What have you left out of the story? And don't lie to me."

I grimaced. "If I tell you…"

"If you don't, I'm out of here. I'll have people at the Royal Oaks in the morning and we'll move in and arrest everyone for dealing in stolen goods. That includes you."

I gave that some serious thought. "I'll tell you, but no names."

His eyebrows rose, then he agreed, adding, "For now."

I nodded. "All right. I know someone who is going to retrieve the book from Eber. The trade-off is this person gets the necklace in exchange."

"I don't like it," Tom said tightly.

"That's the way it is. The book is too valuable. Much more so than the necklace."

"You trust this person to actually do the trade?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "Just a feeling. Sure, he could keep the book, but for some reason he seems to want the necklace and he can't get to it—given where it is. I wonder…" I had a thought. Off the wall, but.

"Go on."

"Maybe what Eber told Williams was the truth. The necklace really does belong to him. But… he needed more money than he could get by selling it so he comes up with a way to use it to get his hands on something much more valuable."

"Could be," Tom said thoughtfully. "Leave the necklace with Philips, steal the book, and threaten to call us if Philips reports the theft. Except… he realizes he's missing one important thing—the papers on the book. He can't sell it without them."

"He should have stuck with selling the necklace for what he could get. Now he's in trouble up to his pearly-whites."

"Presuming I can get enough information to prove he's behind the theft," Tom replied. "With your person relieving him of the book, the only way we'll have proof is if Eber actually shows up for the exchange in person—and if you and Philips can get him to say something that implicates him in the crime."

"We might," I said pensively, "be able to force the issue. When he calls Philips tomorrow with the number of the apartment he's using for the exchange then… Yeah, Philips tells him no exchange unless he shows up in person and he hints broadly that he's real sure he knows who Eber is, so he'll know if he sends a ringer."

"That could work. Let's hope Eber doesn't realize the book is gone."

"I think my… friend… knows what he's doing so that shouldn't be a problem."

"You better hope so. Okay, against my better judgment I'll help you with this. It'll take some planning. We have to figure Eber's going to have someone on Philips from the moment he leaves his home tomorrow morning. The same with you since you've been in on this from the beginning."

"If you can give me another hour of your time, I'll call Philips and get him over here. That way the three of us can put together something that'll work."

"Do it." He smiled sourly. "It's not like I didn't have anything else planned for my day off."

I called.

Walt Murphy – PI – 40

There was one final item on my to-do list now. How to handle the meeting with Eber tomorrow. I had an idea. One that was only marginally less crazy than my going to Caiazzo for help. The question was, would Detective Tom Sharp go for it. Only one way to find out, presuming I could get in touch with him.

I called the precinct and found out—not unexpectedly—that he was off today. It took a lot of fast talking but I eventually convinced the dispatcher to get in touch with him and give him a message.

Now it was wait and hope he returned my call. I tried to kill the time by working on background checks again for my client, but found I was too distracted to pay attention to what I was doing.

Half an hour later my phone finally rang.

"This better be damned important," Tom said as soon as I answered.

"I could use your help, in an official capacity, to catch a thief and a blackmailer."

"Presumably that's one person."

"Huh? Oh, Yeah."

"Okay, tell me what's going on. No promises I can help."

"I know." Once again I laid out the basics of what was happening, leaving Caiazzo out of the picture. By now I could have told the story in my sleep. 

All he said when I finished was, "Where are you?" I told him and he said he'd be over in fifteen minutes. He made it in fourteen.

Once we were settled in my office he asked, "Why didn't you tell me any of this when you wanted to know about Williams?"

"At that point I had no idea who was behind everything. I wasn't even certain Williams was still alive."

He nodded. "Given what you told me, I can see why. Still, you should have come to me a lot sooner."

"Yeah. Sorry." I smiled placatingly. "At least I finally have. Now I need your help so you can arrest Eber."

"You know there's a good chance he won't be at the exchange in person."

"Yeah. I'd say that's fifty/fifty. He needs to know that the provenance papers are the real ones. That says he will be there to be certain Philips doesn't try to pull a fast one. On the other hand he's not stupid. He might think we'll try something to trap him, in which case he'll send an agent."

"Yep. When and where is the exchange taking place?"

"Ten tomorrow morning at River Oaks."

"Apartment number?"

"Hell. Hang on. Philips never said." I called him and found out that he didn't know. "In that case," I told him, "I suspect you'll get a call to tell you, after you've been to the bank. He doesn't want us to be able to bug the room or what have you."

"I heard," Tom said after I hung up. "I'm sure you're right. That won't stop us from wiring Philips."

"And me. I plan on being there too, as his bodyguard. That is why he hired me in the first place."

"Because of the necklace?" he asked. I nodded. Then he said, "About that, where is it now? At the bank with the papers?"

Walt Murphy – PI – 39

The address Caiazzo had written on the business card belonged to a small building in the warehouse district of the city. That didn't mean it was rundown. Far from it. It housed an Italian restaurant on the ground floor—one I'd heard of. It was supposed to have very good food. From what I could tell at first glance, I figured the two upper stories probably held small businesses.  

When I entered the restaurant the host immediately greeted me, saying my table was ready. Caiazzo must have described me to him, or at least my clothes. I was decided underdressed for this place. I followed him to a room in the back of the restaurant that held one, lone table. Two men sat at it. They stood when I entered and I heard the host leave, closing the door as he did.

"If you don't mind," one man said politely. I knew what he wanted and spread my arms so he could search me. He even ran a scanner over me, checking for bugs. When he finished he pointed to a chair at the table. I sat—waiting.

Caiazzo came in two minutes later, joining me at the table while the men took positions on either side of the door.

"I take it the rumors about you are correct," I said by way of opening the conversation.

"Let's just say I have a knack for acquiring goods in which other people are interested."

"That works." I rested my elbows on the table, my chin on my folded hands. I didn't feel as casual as that might indicate but it was part of the game that needed to be played out. "If I wanted the book I told you about, you might be able to get it for me?"

"Possibly. For a price."

Now came the cost and I wondered if Philips would be willing, or even able, to pay it. "How much?"

"No money. Just the necklace."

I'll admit that surprised me. He was offering a quid pro quo, the necklace for the book, even though the book was worth twice as much. In this case however, unlike with Eber, there was no threat attached. "May I make a call?"

He nodded, handing me his phone. Not that I didn't have one of my own, but it was turned off as a precaution and I got that he knew his was safe. Mine might not be. I called Philips. He answered hesitantly. Unsurprising since I'm sure Caiazzo's information was blocked.

"It's me. Walt."

"Oh. And?"

"I have a friend who says he can get the item you're interested in but he requires the other item in exchange for his services."

Thankfully Philips was smart enough to get what I was hinting at without saying anything to give it away. "You know I can't get the item he wants until tomorrow morning."

"Understood. Hang on a minute." I covered the phone to tell Caiazzo, "The necklace is in his safety deposit box. He can't get to it until the bank opens tomorrow."

"Tell him I'll have someone meet him there. If he has the necklace, and I'm certain you wouldn't be lying to me about it, we'll do a straight across trade and then, if he's smart, he'll leave the book there, where it's safe."

I relayed what Caiazzo had said. Philips was more than happy to give his permission to proceed.

"It's a go," I told Caiazzo, handing back his phone.

"Excellent." He beckoned to one of the men and when he came over, Caiazzo gave him—whispering—what I presumed were probably instructions on who should take care of obtaining the book from Eber. After the man left the room, my thought was confirmed.

"Two of my people will deal with the acquisition once I've spoken with them in person."

That was obviously my cue to leave, since I was certain he didn't want me to know who they were. I stood, thanked him, and asked when I could expect to hear from him. He suggested, chuckling, that I might want to give him my number so that he could call, which I did.

Then I left, praying his people actually could get their hands on the book. Otherwise I was back to square one.