Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

John Firenze had had a few hours ago. Stolen gold and murder. Thanks to a blind tip, the police had found a pawnbroker called Joey Cline faceup on his workroom floor, along with a lot of merchandise that had made the cops’ eyes bug out.
    Then there was the matter of the second man’s blood on the workroom floor. Rich wondered when the cops would tumble to that. If they had already, nothing about it was appearing on the twenty-four-hour news channel.
    Rich’s intercom buzzed, cutting across his thoughts. He stabbed the button. “Yes?”
    “Ms. Silverado is here for your dinner appointment.”
    “Send her in.”
    He stood up just as the outer door opened and Gail swept into his spacious office. She looked edible in a pantsuit the color and airiness of meringue. An assistant shut the door behind Gail and vanished like the discreet nonentity he was. A very well paid nonentity. Rich wasn’t stupid or stingy when it came to people who could cause him trouble. He didn’t want them to be bribed by a few hundred dollars waved under their noses.
    “Stunning,” Rich said, holding out both hands to Gail. “As always.”
    Smiling, she gave him her fingers while they exchanged a cool kiss on the cheek.
    “I’d tell you how handsome you are,” she said, pulling back and winking at him, “but you said something about an urgent matter regarding techno-thieves.”
    “Apparently someone forgot to warn the Golden Fleece. They hit Tannahill for several big jackpots recently.”
    “Gosh, how do you suppose that happened,” Gail said without inflection. “We’ll have to go over the notification protocol again. Can’t have things falling through the cracks, can we?”
    Rich’s smile almost reached his eyes. “It’s a shame we’re so much alike, Silver,” he said, calling her by her old nickname. “We would have made a great team. But as it is, we’d—”
    “Kill each other before dawn,” she finished. “We’re too smart to go partners. Just like I’m too smart to buy the line about rushing over here to find out about techno-thieves in the Golden Fleece.”
    “You want to sweep the office before we talk?”
    She shook her head. “You’re not the kind of idiot or egomaniac that records every word for future generations to swoon over. You know that kind of record keeping is like having a loaded gun in your bedside table—chances are better you’ll get shot with your own weapon than you’ll manage to take down a burglar.”
    “Or as my mother used to say, once the shit hits the fan, everybody gets dirty.”
    Gail laughed. “I could have used a mother like that.” She strolled over and looked down at the pool. “Poor bastards.”
    “The whales?”
    “The girls. They think they’re going to land a rich one.”
    “You did.”
    “Several times,” Gail agreed. “But not by serving drinks with my titties hanging out. I used my head more than my body.” She turned back to him. “What’s up?”
    “Has anyone approached you with a number of Celtic gold artifacts for sale?”
    “No.”
    Rich was watching closely. He saw nothing to indicate a lie. “Then Tannahill probably has them by now.”
    “Are they hot?”
    “Oh, yeah.”
    “How did he get them?” Gail asked.
    “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”
    “That’ll make it tough to tie a big red bow on his cock.” She narrowed her cool hazel eyes. “How do you know he has the gold? And don’t bother with the ‘little birdie’ crap. I didn’t come here for a bedtime story.”
    “One of the thieves told Firenze.”
    “Carl? Why didn’t he—”
    “John, not Carl. Otherwise you would have called me and we’d be holding this conversation in your office, because neither one of us trusts phones worth a damn.”
    Her sleek eyebrows raised. “Only a fool expects phone conversations to be private.”
    He smiled.
    She waited for him to start talking again. As she waited, each breath she took made light shift and shine over the breasts filling out the tailored white silk suit. She could tell he was looking at her and enjoying the view. She also could tell he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
    Too bad. Men were so much easier to control once you got hold of their dumb handles.
    “As far as I can tell, some small-time stickup artist got lucky,” Rich said. “He scored at least twenty, maybe more, Celtic gold artifacts.”
    Gail’s rosy lips pursed in a soundless whistle.
    “He and a buddy pawned four of the pieces to Joey