“Whatcha want him for?”
“I have a couple of questions for him. About the jewelry pawned from the Cannon house.” I stood tall and mirrored his body language by placing my hands in the front pockets of my pants.
“You weren’t here with those other officers,” he said. “You look different than they did.”
I had to be careful not to lie. Impersonating a police officer was a serious thing and I couldn’t help Ebony if I needed help for myself. I pointed to the patch on my uniform. “Security,” I said. “Not a police officer.” I rolled my eyes. “I spoke to Linda and Black Jack Cannon earlier today and a couple more questions came up.” All true. I held my breath and waited to see how the man would react.
“Those cops were a pain my butt,” he said. “They knew I didn’t want to talk to them. I didn’t have much of a choice. Cops make people nervous and my business runs on trust.”
Trust and pennies on the dollar. There’s a business plan.
“I’m Rudy. What can I do ya for?” he said. His hands came out of his pockets and he leaned down on top of a case filled with guns. I hadn’t noticed them earlier, and now the presence of so many weapons so easily obtained made me uncomfortable.
I started with a few basic questions. “If I understand correctly, the jewelry that was stolen from the Cannon residence came in here yesterday?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Did you know where it was from?”
“The day I start asking questions is the day people stop bringing me inventory.”
“When did you find out that it was stolen?”
“Last night. The cops showed up and asked me a bunch of questions.”
“You told them about the woman who brought the jewelry in. Did she give you a name?”
“No, but she didn’t have to. I described her to the police and they knew exactly who I meant. Ebony Welles, the party planner.”
“So you know Ebony—I mean, Ms. Welles?”
“Well enough. I told the police it was her and described the medallion she was wearing and that was enough for them to put two and two together.”
I reached out for the counter to steady myself. Ebony couldn’t have been wearing her medallion—it was sitting at home on my counter. If that was the clue that brought the police to her door, then I’d just found a way to prove that when you put two and two together, you didn’t always get four.
Chapter 27
“YOU NEVER SAW that medallion, did you?” I asked. Rudy stepped away from the counter. He didn’t answer right away. “Can you describe it?” I added.
“I have to make a phone call.” He went to the back. As soon as he disappeared, I took off out the front door. I’d gotten what I came for. Now I had to piece it all together and prove it.
*
EBONY had worn that necklace to the hospital on Tuesday. Several members of the staff had complimented her on it, and even Ivory had gotten his paw caught in the chain when we were at the rest stop. Probably, security cameras all over the hospital could verify it. When we’d returned from the hospital, she’d helped me carry the boxes from the trailer into the stockroom, and that’s where I found the medallion this morning when I loaded the dolly with boxes from the trailer and the wheels jammed up. It must have been there since Tuesday. Even better, I hadn’t been alone when I found the medallion. Willow, the new age therapist, had been there too.
So either Rudy Moore had encountered a different black woman who dressed like Foxy Brown and wore a gold medallion in his shop on Wednesday, or he was telling untruths to the police. But Amy Bradshaw had been the one to lead the police to him in the first place. Time to figure out why.
I drove from the pawnshop to Candy Girls, arriving around eight thirty. Only two cars sat in the lot: a black Lexus and a red Prius. The store’s sign, a giant neon lollipop, spun around in a circle next to a smaller illuminated rectangle that said CANDY GIRLS—SUGAR AND SPICE AND PARTY PLANNING. Under that, in italics, it said WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT?
I parked my scooter in a well-lit corner of the lot and locked up my helmet. The lights inside the store went out and two women exited. One was Amy. She and the other girl parted ways. Amy locked up the store and headed toward the red Prius. I waited until the other car drove away before calling out to her—Amy, not the girl who had left.
She was startled at first, but relaxed when she recognized me. “We’re closed,” she said. “Come back tomorrow.”
“I’m not here for the store. I’m here to talk to you.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said. Her voice trembled with nervousness, not the defiance I had expected. She glanced at my outfit. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“Like what?” I looked down at the security guard uniform. “I always dress in costumes from Disguise DeLimit. Everybody knows that.”