Shell Game – Chapter 41 – Fraud

“Now that that’s settled,” the stranger with the silver eye patch said, glaring his one good eye at Evan, “where is the pearl?”

“Yes, I was just coming to that,” Evan said. “But first, I want to talk about the money.”

“This again!” the stranger growled. “My patience is wearing more than a little thin, Mr. Gold.”

“That’s fine,” Evan said, relaxing once again into the chair opposite his uninvited guest, “but it seems to me I’m doing all the heavy lifting around here. I’ve kept the police off your scent. I’ve figured out what you all are about. And what have you been doing? Bumbling around, setting the place on fire, killing people, and what do you have to show for it?

Nothing. And what do I have? I’ve located the pearl.” At this, Evan shifted his eyes around the room. He observed the eyes of each con artist in the room. What he saw in exchange was the look of pent-up greed in every hardened face.

Evan brought his attention back to Eye Patch. “And so, for all of my efforts, I think I should get appropriate payment.”

“You have it?” the man in black asked.

“I do. Want to see it?” asked Evan.

The stranger’s smile spread like a cut across his face. “I do.”

“Then I think you can cough up a couple more bills to go into that envelope.”

“After all I’ve told you. After all you know. All you people can think about is the money. This is so much bigger than money!”

“That may be,” Evan said, “But for all you’ve told me and all I know, all I’m going to be able to have when this is over is the money. The money and my good name. And the way this is playing out so far, I may not have much of a good name, so I better have the money.”

The man in black pointed at Claire. “Every bill in my possession is in that envelope.”

“Knowing how you people operate, I find that hard to believe.”

“Would you like to frisk me?” Eye Patch said with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, if I could help it.”

“Then, you’ll have to trust me, won’t you? You have all the money you’re going to get. So where is the pearl?” He perched at the edge of his seat, ready to lunge out of it and strangle Evan for the information.

Evan sighed and reached into his inside coat pocket. Harold flinched and reached for his gun. “Calm down, Harold. You know I don’t carry. Though I admit, it makes me feel a little vulnerable at times like this.”

When he brought his hands back out, he held the unassuming box he’d received from the train conductor in his office.
“Give it to me,” Eye Patch spat.

Evan tossed the box across to him. The man in black looked at the box, then up to Evan as if he suspected a trick.
“Go on,” Evan coaxed, “open it.”

The strangers’ hands picked up the box and fumbled with it a moment, clawing and scratching at it. Once he could get his hands through the packaging tape, out spilled the jewelry box wrapped in white tissue paper. Evan watched as almost every person crept one step closer as the inky figure smoothed out the wrinkled paper on the table. The detective caught a glimpse of Margo. She did not move closer. If anything, she seemed to scoot further away. Possibly further away from the cause of her doom.

Evan looked back to the activity at the table and saw the black-gloved hands grab up the black velvet jewelry box.
With great care, the stranger opened the top of the clamshell container. Inside, still resting comfortably on a bed of white satin, was the pearl. Now getting his second look at it, Evan admired how much it resembled Lillian. Whoever found or made this fake had the eye of a forger. He hoped the imitation pearl would distract his enemy just long enough to get them out of town and for Lillian’s trail to grow cold.

The man in black reached into the box, drawing the pearl into the open between his thumb and forefinger. His eye sparkled in delight as he gazed upon the orb.

“You’re mine,” he said. “After all these years, you’re mine. I will never let you out of my sight again.”

“That’s fine,” Evan said. “That’s just fine. Everyone’s a winner. You got your pearl, the police get their patsy, and I get my money. Everyone’s a winner.” He stood and started to walk to the phone. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll just make the phone call so the cops can get their man, as it were.”

Evan picked up the receiver and was about to slip his finger into the rotary to begin dialing when he heard the voice of Eye Patch say, “Wait.” Something in the way he said, “Wait,” caused Evan’ to stop moving. At the same time, he felt his stomach fall to the floor. Evan turned to look at the stranger.

Eye Patch examined the pearl closely. As he did, he began to tell a story. He said, “In my travels, I ran into a showman. I enjoyed his act. It was a good distraction once the trail of the pearl had gone cold for a time. Just for a time, mind you. This showman sang a little, told stories, performed carnival tricks. I can only assume he made an okay living at it. Otherwise, why do it?

“I got to see him a few times over the years, and I was never disappointed. What I particularly liked was his, they call it, close magic. Tricks and illusions performed with only inches between the performer and the customer.

“I’ve dabbled in such sleight-of-hand tricks before and always enjoy seeing a master at work.
“

Anyway, this man had a monkey, one of the organ-grinding kind. ‘Straight from the jungles of India,’ he used to say. He had a practice of walking among the people with the monkey on his shoulder. He would then find an open area, hand a little girl a coin, and encourage her to hold the coin for the monkey.

“Seeing the shiny coin, the monkey would scamper down the man’s arm, take the coin from the girl, and kiss her on the cheek as payment for the trade. In less than a minute, the showman would be circled by wide-eyed customers who now held out their own money. Stupid creatures! They were fools for throwing their hard-earned cash at a monkey of all things, and the showman was a fool for taking their money for nothing he’d done. And when I say money, I mean the man and the monkey had a hard time keeping up with demand. These people would hold out not only coins but bills! For bills, the monkey would sit on the person’s shoulder.

“Now, around this man’s shoulder was a cylinder on a leather strap, about the size of an ale mug. It was where he put the coins and bills the monkey received from the customers. Well, I looked down at a point, and I saw an empty container and realized that he had removed the bills and placed them in a safer location about his person without making a show of it. So, I began looking for the moment when he made the switch. It’s so rare you get the opportunity to be one step ahead of a true master.”

“This is a nice story and all,” interrupted Evan, “but you need to get out of town. Whether I call the cops or not, they’re still likely to pay us a visit tonight.”

“Here’s the interesting detail,” the man continued as if he didn’t hear Evan speak, “I stood there for the better part of an hour. Never seeing the moment, he transferred the bills from the cylinder to his pocket. I saw the container full and empty several times over that hour, but I never saw his hand remove the bills. It’s so refreshing to see someone that good at what they do.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Evan said again.

“What I’m saying is, just because you didn’t see the trick happen doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Evan continued to stare at the man in black.

The stranger took the pearl and slammed it into the coffee table in one fluid motion, sending the sharpest bang into the room. Every person jumped and gasped. When Eye Patch lifted his gloved hand, all that remained on the table were the iridescent shards of the pearl.

“What did you do?” Harold moaned.

“That’s what I want to know,” the stranger said, glaring at Evan. “You said you had the pearl, but this was not Lillian.”

The man stood up in a rage, “Where is she!”

“That must be the pearl Jason made,” Claire offered. The man in black turned on her. She stammered, “I gave the conductor the only pearl I ever had in my possession. You must believe me. Jason said he was going to make one to double-cross you. I stole that pearl from Jason and gave it to the train conductor. If that’s not the right pearl-”

The man in black kicked over the coffee table, sending the pearl dust through the air. At the same time, he drew a gun and aimed it right at Evan. “That’s right, Miss Porter, if that wasn’t the right pearl, then where is it.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Evan raised his eyebrows, “I told you it was only a matter of time before the police showed up here. I can do what I can, but this is going to be hard to explain.”

“I don’t care what you tell them; just get rid of them.”

Evan walked to the door. The inky stranger walked with him and positioned himself so that he would be unseen by the people in the hallway when the door was open but could keep his gun trained on Evan.

“No heroics. Just get rid of them.” He reminded Evan.

Evan reached down and grabbed the doorknob. When he opened the door, panic raced through his veins as he saw who stood there. It was Katherine.

“Are you okay? I was coming up to see you, and I heard a noise,” she said as she pushed past Evan and into the apartment.