Ten Grand (A Thaddeus Grayle Mystery Book 2) by Seamus Heffernan

Author:Seamus Heffernan [Heffernan, Seamus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Cat Books
Published: 2019-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

22

Ayesha’s source, Max, met us outside. For now, we had the alley to ourselves, but there was no guarantee that would continue. I shuffled my feet, keeping my eyes moving from left to right onto the night street.

“I can’t just let you guys in,” he said.

“Max,” Ayesha said. She reached out, giving his shoulder a playful squeeze, his face a good view of her wide, dark eyes. He was having none of it.

“Ha ha. Nice try. This is high roller time, kid.”

“What’s the buy in?”

He jerked a thumb towards me.

“Who’s the stiff?”

“Hey,” I said. “You can talk to me directly, you know.”

He ignored me and Ayesha rolled her eyes, mainly to placate Max. Maybe.

“He’s cool,” she said. “Look, come on. You know we’re getting in. We’re just negotiating now. What’s tonight’s buy in?”

He shot me another look, then turned to face Ayesha.

“Five thousand.”

“Wow, Max,” she said, impressed. “Moving up in the world, hunh?”

“I do OK.”

“No kidding. Last time we ran together, you were fencing laptops and mid-range jewelry.”

“I’m saving up. Gotta get on the property ladder. Invest in my future.”

“You ever see this guy?” I said, showing him a pic of Duclos on my phone.

He didn’t even look at it.

“Ayesha, I gotta get back to work. Great seeing you. Give me a call sometime, yeah? We’ll catch up proper.”

He turned, but Ayesha grabbed his arm.

“Max,” she said. “C’mon. Look at the picture.”

“I’m not looking to stitch up any of my players. The people who play here enjoy their anonymity.”

“This guy is missing,” I said. “We know he played here. We’re trying to find him for his wife. And his kid.”

Max looked at the picture, then shrugged.

“Max,” Ayesha said, her voice low as a prowler. “We need to get inside and meet some of these guys. For all we know, he’s in there right now, burning through his son’s inheritance.”

“He’s not in there.”

“So you know him?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, fine, OK? Your man’s Yannick D. Comes in about once a month.”

“When was the last time he played?” she asked, voice still low and cool, none too fussed. I could feel my own heart stating to pick up a bit, the RPMs building.

“Two weeks ago.”

Ayesha and I exchanged a look. I nodded.

“We need to get inside,” she said. “What’s it going to take?”

“What, besides five grand? Not much.”

“OK, how about this: You let us in, and spot us the money,” she said.

Max reacted predictably, but Ayesha cut him off in mid-snort.

“Max, you let us in, and give us money to get in. We aren’t going to play much. We just need some info. You get it all back. But we need cover. You do that. And I’ll tell you what I know about when you got rumbled by the cops back in ’16.”

“Nothing to know. Seller got sloppy and the cops tracked the stuff.”

“It was a smash and grab, right? You had to move the jewels fast. How’d the cops find it that quick, though?”

Max was trying to pull a look somewhere between bored and non-committal, but he was lagging.

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