35
I call Maxine on my way into town and leave a message to say I’m going to need the collar and the flip phone back as soon as possible. I park in the multi-story at Trinity Square and head down to street level, stopping at the bank on the way to withdraw the cash I deposited only a few days ago. It’s already depleted from the first mortgage payment and I have to supplement it from what little remains in my savings account, standing at the same counter as the clerk counts out a thick stack of fifty-pound notes.
I’m the only customer at Silverjoy. The owner buzzes me through the heavy front door into the shop, blinking up at me over the top of her glasses. I greet her with a smiling hello as she locks one of the glass display cabinets beneath the counter.
“I was here on Monday,” I say. “You bought a wristwatch from me.”
She gives a careful nod of recognition. “What can I do for you today, sir? I have a couple of very nice Tag watches just over there in the window, very reasonably priced and tend to hold their value very well. Or perhaps some earrings for your wife? Birthday, is it? Anniversary?”
“No, nothing like that.” I rub my chin. “Actually it’s about the same watch.”
“Ah, yes. The Rolex?”
“That’s right.”
“A very nice piece.”
“The thing is,” I say, “I’d like to buy it back.”
She cocks her head slightly to one side. “I’m sorry?”
I take the paperwork from my pocket, unfolding the receipt and the pink carbon copy she’d handed to me four days ago, and laying them both on the counter.
“This watch.” I tap the receipt. “I need it back. I have the money, I’ll pay the same price. Cash or credit card, whatever you prefer.”
“Ah,” she says again. “I see. I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, sir.”
“I know it’s a strange request, but it’s very important that I get the watch back. Can’t really explain why but it has to be that one.”
“I understand, sir. It was a very nice piece.”
“Selling it was… a mistake, as it turns out.” I can sense her hesitation. “How about the same price I sold it for plus five percent on top? That’s an extra two hundred pounds for your trouble.”
“It’s not a matter of price. That piece is not for sale.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s no longer in stock. Another customer bought it, a few days after you came in.”
My stomach drops.Shit.
“But I thought… I didn’t realize it would sell so quickly, at that price.”
“Some customers just know what they want.” She indicates a display case to her left with rows of watches inside, small paper price tags attached to each. “I have some other pieces that are quite similar in style and design, or I could source—”
“I don’t want another watch, it has to bethatone. I have to get it back. Who bought it from you?”
Her eyes narrow. “A customer.”
I try to remember our conversation from this time last week. Had there been a hint that an off-the-books deal could be done, that there might be a negotiation to be started here?
“Was the buyer a man or a woman?” I say. “Old, young?”
“That’s not information I can—”
“I could make them an offer for it, if you can put us in contact.”
She stiffens. “Obviously, sir, I can’t divulge personal customer information.”
