Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

customer. Please leave a message, and he will get back to you as soon as possible.
    Firenze looked at his watch. He couldn’t stall much longer. Another hour and he’d have to settle for a smaller piece of the pie.
    Or none at all.

Chapter 42
    Las Vegas
    November 4
    Early afternoon
    W illiam Covington’s business establishment looked like what it was, an upscale antique-consignment store that was rumored to lend money for short terms at ruinous rates with antiques as collateral. Brown furniture loomed everywhere, set off by crystal chandeliers and Tiffany-style lamps. The only weapons in the place were more than a hundred years old and mounted on the wall like trophies. Glass cases displayed smaller items whose value and portability might tempt a browser into crime.
    “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Shane said when Covington came hurrying out of his office toward them.
    “My pleasure, Mr. Tannahill, Ms. Sheridan.” Covington smiled at each in turn, displaying brilliant teeth. “Come back to my office, please. I have coffee waiting.”
    Neither Shane nor Risa was interested in coffee, but they followed Covington anyway. The office promised more privacy than the front salesroom, where high-end bargain hunters and hungry decorators prowled among the dark furniture.
    After everyone had sipped coffee and made appropriately meaningless remarks about the lack of weather in Las Vegas, Covington looked at Shane expectantly.
    “I understand you sometimes do business with Mr. Smith-White,” Shane said.
    “We pass business along to each other, yes.” Covington smiled. “We’re friendly competitors.”
    Shane nodded to Risa. She took an envelope from her purse, pulled out glossy photos, and began spreading them across Covington’s nineteenth-century mahogany desk. Shane watched the store owner, not the photos. There wasn’t any flicker of eyelids, any shift in his mouth, any increase in the pulse beating visibly above his white collar.
    Not one sign that he recognized the photos.
    “Quite unusual,” Covington said. “Are they for sale?”
    “How much do you think they would be worth?” Risa asked quickly.
    “Heavens.” He frowned. “I’d have to think about that. I deal more in furniture than in decorative arts and antiquities. I haven’t any idea what these items might be worth.”
    “Really?” Risa lifted her eyebrows. “Then how did you decide what to charge Smith-White for them?”
    Covington absorbed the fact that apparently he had sold the gold. “Smith-White. Really. Was it a recent sale?”
    “Early July, according to the receipts.”
    With a wave of his pale hand, Covington dismissed the matter. “Well, there you have it. My shop sells many things that I don’t personally handle. This was probably part of an estate consignment or a consolidation consignment from another dealer which I sold to Smith-White because it suited his clientele more than mine.”
    “According to Smith-White’s records, you purchased these gold artifacts from a Mr. Shapiro,” Risa said.
    “Then I or one of my representatives undoubtedly did just that.”
    “The provenance provided was sketchy,” Risa said, watching him closely. “Second-generation descendant of a now-dead purchaser.”
    “Distressing how little the modern world cares about the past, isn’t it?”
    “So you’ve never seen these before?” Risa asked.
    “Never. Sorry.” Covington smiled and stood up. “Now, unless there’s anything else I can do for you, I really must be off. So much to do.” He turned to Shane. “I have a lovely new consignment from Italy to price. If you ever decide to open a gambling museum, there is a particularly remarkable roulette wheel I would like to you to see. Gold rails, ebony and ivory insets, with a solid gold ball. It was used by Italian aristocracy for their own amusement.”
    “Send photos and particulars to my office,” Shane said, standing and helping Risa to her feet, squeezing her hand in a warning for her to be silent. He gathered the pictures of the gold artifacts and slid them into his breast pocket. “If you remember anything else about the provenance of this gold, or if you have gold antiquities of a similar quality, my ten-thousand-dollar reward still stands.”
    Thin gray brows twitched. “Indeed. I shall check my inventory quite carefully.”
    Shane smiled like a wolf. “You do that.”
    As soon as they were outside, Risa said, “That lying sack of shit.”
    “We