dog.
When Zimmerman looked at his watch and kicked the fence, David finally approached him.
“How’s the X-rated theater business?” he asked.
“If it were doing well, I wouldn’t be out here fencing stolen rocks.”
“I suppose if the fencing business were good, you wouldn’t be showing porno films, either.”
“I did fine until you took Sarah away from me.” Zimmerman took his hands out of his pockets. One of them was holding a pair of locking tweezers, the other a triplet. “Do you have it?”
David produced the stone paper. Zimmerman quickly unfolded it, maneuvered the diamond into the tweezers, and louped it critically.
“It’s flawless,” David said.
Zimmerman snickered. “Yeah, they all are, you know.”
“No, I mean it. This one really is.”
“Whatever you say, Feinstein.”
“Listen, Zim. You know me. You know if I say it’s clean, it’s clean.”
Zimmerman removed an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to David. David counted the money inside. It didn’t add up. He counted it again, to make sure.
“This is a little light, Zim.”
“It’s exactly right, Feinstein.”
David closed his eyes. One more mention of that name and he’d belt the man. “The stone is worth three times as much wholesale!”
“Supply and demand. Take it or leave it.”
“Screw supply and demand. You know I have to unload the piece. You’re taking advantage of me.”
“If you don’t like the price, sell it to someone else.”
“I can’t shop around for another fence this late in the game. Everyone in Nineveh & Shimoda knows my face.”
“Everyone in this town knows your face, Feinstein. You’ve been working this corner of the world too long. Pretty soon the Jeweler’s Circular Keystone is going to post your ugly puss on its front cover.”
“The name is Freeman. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Fuck you, Feinstein, you sniveling Jew.”
David dropped the envelope on the sidewalk and pinned Zimmerman’s shoulders against the spiked fence.
“You asshole,” Zimmerman said. “Take a look over there.” He pointed across the street. Three unfriendly looking derelicts were sitting on a park bench between Arch and Race. One of them grinned. He was missing most of his teeth.
“What are they going to do,” David asked, “strangle me with dental floss?”
“They have your address, and now they, too, know your face. Lay another finger on me and they’ll do things to you that—trust me—you do not want done.”
David glanced back at the three derelicts. Smiley was gesturing the act of masturbation.
“Take it or leave it, Jew boy.”
David released Zimmerman, picked up the cash-filled envelope from the sidewalk, and dusted it off.
Zimmerman unfolded the stone paper and admired the diamond again. “Well,” he said, “it’s not the Prairie, but I never did kick a rock out of bed for eating crackers.”
“What’s the Prairie?”
“Don’t insult me by feigning ignorance. And unless you want to walk funny for the rest of your life, stay out of my way in the search for you-know-what.”
As soon as David was out of sight, Zimmerman crossed the street and handed the three drunks five dollars apiece.
Smiley said, “You still haven’t told us why you wanted us to sit here and act like that.”
“Warm the bench for me, gentlemen. Someday I’ll be sleeping on it myself.”
He returned to his theater in Kensington. The theater was unsupervised and the projector was still running, but it didn’t matter; no one had bought a ticket. He sat in one of the empty seats and inspected David’s diamond once again.
You had to hand it to Feinstein, he thought. It sure did look clean.
He felt a twinge of guilt for having stiffed David. He felt it, then it went away. They had once been friends. Even, on occasion, partners—until Sarah changed allegiance. And they were both obsessed with the lost Tavernier stones.
Zimmerman’s Grail was one of the stones in
When Zimmerman looked at his watch and kicked the fence, David finally approached him.
“How’s the X-rated theater business?” he asked.
“If it were doing well, I wouldn’t be out here fencing stolen rocks.”
“I suppose if the fencing business were good, you wouldn’t be showing porno films, either.”
“I did fine until you took Sarah away from me.” Zimmerman took his hands out of his pockets. One of them was holding a pair of locking tweezers, the other a triplet. “Do you have it?”
David produced the stone paper. Zimmerman quickly unfolded it, maneuvered the diamond into the tweezers, and louped it critically.
“It’s flawless,” David said.
Zimmerman snickered. “Yeah, they all are, you know.”
“No, I mean it. This one really is.”
“Whatever you say, Feinstein.”
“Listen, Zim. You know me. You know if I say it’s clean, it’s clean.”
Zimmerman removed an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to David. David counted the money inside. It didn’t add up. He counted it again, to make sure.
“This is a little light, Zim.”
“It’s exactly right, Feinstein.”
David closed his eyes. One more mention of that name and he’d belt the man. “The stone is worth three times as much wholesale!”
“Supply and demand. Take it or leave it.”
“Screw supply and demand. You know I have to unload the piece. You’re taking advantage of me.”
“If you don’t like the price, sell it to someone else.”
“I can’t shop around for another fence this late in the game. Everyone in Nineveh & Shimoda knows my face.”
“Everyone in this town knows your face, Feinstein. You’ve been working this corner of the world too long. Pretty soon the Jeweler’s Circular Keystone is going to post your ugly puss on its front cover.”
“The name is Freeman. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Fuck you, Feinstein, you sniveling Jew.”
David dropped the envelope on the sidewalk and pinned Zimmerman’s shoulders against the spiked fence.
“You asshole,” Zimmerman said. “Take a look over there.” He pointed across the street. Three unfriendly looking derelicts were sitting on a park bench between Arch and Race. One of them grinned. He was missing most of his teeth.
“What are they going to do,” David asked, “strangle me with dental floss?”
“They have your address, and now they, too, know your face. Lay another finger on me and they’ll do things to you that—trust me—you do not want done.”
David glanced back at the three derelicts. Smiley was gesturing the act of masturbation.
“Take it or leave it, Jew boy.”
David released Zimmerman, picked up the cash-filled envelope from the sidewalk, and dusted it off.
Zimmerman unfolded the stone paper and admired the diamond again. “Well,” he said, “it’s not the Prairie, but I never did kick a rock out of bed for eating crackers.”
“What’s the Prairie?”
“Don’t insult me by feigning ignorance. And unless you want to walk funny for the rest of your life, stay out of my way in the search for you-know-what.”
As soon as David was out of sight, Zimmerman crossed the street and handed the three drunks five dollars apiece.
Smiley said, “You still haven’t told us why you wanted us to sit here and act like that.”
“Warm the bench for me, gentlemen. Someday I’ll be sleeping on it myself.”
He returned to his theater in Kensington. The theater was unsupervised and the projector was still running, but it didn’t matter; no one had bought a ticket. He sat in one of the empty seats and inspected David’s diamond once again.
You had to hand it to Feinstein, he thought. It sure did look clean.
He felt a twinge of guilt for having stiffed David. He felt it, then it went away. They had once been friends. Even, on occasion, partners—until Sarah changed allegiance. And they were both obsessed with the lost Tavernier stones.
Zimmerman’s Grail was one of the stones in
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