Lack Luster

Chapter 4

As Eliott, the bewildered store clerk, nodded and began to turn away, he stopped for a moment as Jenkins grabbed his sleeve.

"Just a moment, please. What were they asking you about?"

"This gentleman," Eliott said, pointing to Neal, "wanted to discuss his Krugerrand collection. This other man," he indicated with a disdainful lift of nose, "is interested in baseball cards and stamp collecting."

The set of his jaw bespoke annoyance, as he sniffed in derision before departing to attend the two newly arrived customers entering the store.

"Baseball cards and stamp collecting, Agent Burke?" said Jenkins, stepping closer and facing Peter. "Couldn't you come up with a better story than that?"

"He wasn't making up a story," Neal interjected, "it's probably . . . regrettably, true. Right?" he questioned, throwing a pained glance over to his partner.

Peter nodded, straight-faced.

"Yeah. I was always hoping to hit the sweet spot. You know, that elusive collectible that would have scored a home run." A seemingly winsome smile began to spread over the agent's face as he began to wax nostalgic.

"The first baseball stamp was issued in 1939, the Centennial of Baseball, Scott number 855," continued Peter, with an expansive gesture of his hands, "issued under the prompting of James Farley, a lifelong baseball fan and Postmaster General under Franklin Roosevelt. It was violet in color and worth three cents when first released."

Jenkins, raising eyebrows in disbelief, crossed his arms over his chest, cupping his elbows in his hands, throwing an askance look at Neal.

The younger man just shrugged, quietly uttering a noncommittal noise.

"If I had the choice," said Jenkins, "and I probably do not . . . I'd almost certainly choose to talk Krugerrands with your miscreant sidekick."

Neal smiled smugly.

"South African gold Krugerrands were the world's first modern bullion gold coin," Neal recited to Peter, "and even to this day, it remains one of the most popular coins minted, considered an international symbol of wealth and prestige."

Jenkins yawned.

"Mr. Caffrey, will you hold off giving your overseer a much needed history lesson until later?"

"You mean like informing me that the coins were first minted in 1967 to help market South African gold and were produced by the South African Mint?" Peter replied. "That the name itself is a compound of 'Kruger' and 'rand', and by 1980, the bullion accounted for 90% of the global coin market?"

"But let's just take Krugerrands off the table," added Peter, "and sidestep my CI's interest and past exploits in the field."

Jenkins smile was cold, a toothy shark's grin, revealing uneven teeth and large canines. It was a grin Neal wanted desperately to wipe off the dealer's face.

"Agent Burke, let's cut to the chase, shall we? What do you want? I thought during our last chat, in your field office, we settled the matter. I had absolutely nothing to do with Morris Brown's missing coins."

"Mr. Brown has a different opinion on the matter. His formal complaint states you persuaded him, via telephone, to send his private collection to him with the verbal promise that your consulting business would hold his collection, evaluate it and sell the coins upon his request."

Peter's face became hard set, almost like marble, as he fixed Jenkins with a fixed glare.

"After Morris Brown handed over his life savings, you didn't pay or return the collection back to him. In fact, you stopped answering his calls and blocked his ability to directly reach you."

Neal leaned forward, alert and attentive, having had personal experience of Peter's glare. Jenkins had stroked the Agent's ire. The coin seller was falling into a trap; not recognizing his formidable opponent's dogged tenacity to ensure justice.

"We know you were in communication with Morris Brown. In fact, you've had an ongoing business relationship with him for years. Mr. Brown related to my consultant that you always asked about his grandchildren . . . sent him Christmas cards . . . collaborated on several successful coin sales. He would have had no reason not to trust your business offer to hold his valuable coin collection for evaluation and sale for mutual profit."

Jenkins remained emotionless, eyes unblinking.

"I'm wondering why now, after establishing financial rapport with collectors and dealers around the world, you would steal from a few chosen customers, risking an unscrupulous reputation and persecution for financial fraud."

Neal stepped forward.

"Small risk if you're banking on the fact your mark is elderly, probably ashamed of their gullibility and extremely hesitant to press charges. Look for someone who's lonely or getting on in years, and slowly offer them support and attention."

Neal closed his eyes for a moment in thought. "Seniors raised in earlier generations were brought up to be polite and more trusting. Provide them with a few successful deals, send small gifts and gain their confidence."

"You would most certainly know, Mr. Caffrey." Jenkins snapped. "Talking from your vast experience in the field?" He lifted his hand, tapping his forehead as if in deep thought. "What was your felony conviction for again?"

Neal muttered something Peter couldn't quite catch, which was probably just as well. As his partner began to move toward the coin dealer, Peter's calming hand on his arm stopped him.

Neal looked down at the hand and stepped back. Beneath his casual pose, Peter felt Neal's faint quiver of tension. His consultant was inwardly seething.

"My conviction was for Bond Forgery," Neal answered, calmly. "But Mr. Brown surprised you, didn't he? He didn't step back and fade away . . . not like Issac Kleid or whoever else you've bilked."

Jenkins waved aside his words. "You're wrong, Mr. Caffrey. Let's face it. Morris is a nice old man, but he's in his eighties, sadly losing his grip on reality. He brought these charges months after he misplaced his collection."

Dismissing Neal, Jenkins turned back to Peter.

"I'm sure Morris hasn't been able to give you any detailed information. But then, isn't memory loss the most common symptom of dementia? Poor man," he uttered, shaking his head in sympathy. "I wanted to help at first. That's why I've been so patient with your questions. More than patient, I might add. But now I must insist you leave. Any further discussion will be with my lawyer present."

"Let's go, Neal," said Peter.

"Oh . . . and gentlemen, once you solve your case, be sure and come back to shop at 'Elite Coin' for a unique buying experience. Remember, we do our best to make the customer feel at home and welcome. Remember our motto."

"Shopping here is like visiting a loyal and trusted friend," supplied Peter, spying the shop maxim displayed above the door.

"And Mr. Caffrey, be sure to bring your Krueggarands, that is, if your supervisor lets you out alone."

Neal ignored him.

"Thank you, Peter," said the CI walking behind Peter out the door.

"For what?"

Peter glanced over his shoulder, tugging to open his umbrella. As the wind quickly turned it inside out, Neal stepped forward and held his own luxury model over the agent's head.

"For stopping me from wrapping my hands around Jenkins' neck."

"Neal, I promise. You have first dibs on preparing the paperwork for his felony conviction."

Both men smiled, as they hurried off.

WCWCWCWCWC

A/N: My work schedule is heating up for the next month. I probably won't be able to post the next chapter for several weeks. I apologize and hope you'll stick with the story. Thanks.