Rae had the closest one and called Lucas before he had the chance to get to his first stop. “We got a solid hit. They say he doesn’t look exactly like the mug shot anymore, he’s older and heavier, but it’s him. He comes in once a month or so and cashes a coin, or sometimes two. He was last in a month ago.”
“Excellent. Call Bob, tell him. Let’s visit a couple more stores, but I think we got him.”
Lucas stopped at a place called Arlington Precious Metal Exchange & Pawn, a storefront with dusty windows and a tangle of used power tools behind the glass. Inside, he walked past a lot of damaged musical instruments and obsolete film cameras to a guy who was leaning on a counter, smoking a cigarette and reading a free newspaper. The guy had looked up when the doorbell jangled, and when Lucas got to him, said, “You’re a very well-dressed police officer.”
“Thank you.”
“Well-dressed police officers make me nervous,” the man said. He was wearing cargo shorts with a weight in one leg pocket thatLucas suspected was a pistol, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with palm trees. “I haven’t done anything, have I? I stay straight with the local cops. You’re not local, are you?”
“No, I’m a U.S. marshal,” Lucas said, the phrase still sounding odd to his ear. He took an eight-by-ten copy of Poole’s decade-old mug shot from his jacket pocket and asked, “Does this guy cash coins here?”
The man looked at the photo and said, “Yeah, he does. He looks a little older now—got a three-day beard most of the time, with some gray in it. Don’t tell him I talked to you.”
“Feels like a threat?”
“Yeah. First time he came in here, he had one coin with him,” the man said. “I made him an offer. I didn’t know him from Adam, so the offer was a little low. He said, ‘Don’t fuck with me, bro,’ and I looked him in the eye and decided not to fuck with him. You meet a few guys like that, in this business.”
“When was the last time he was in?”
The guy scratched his neck, then said, “Maybe... a month ago? Maybe more. He’s about due. Usually comes in every month or six weeks. I make about twenty bucks a visit, so, you know, I don’t mind seeing him, but I ain’t holding my breath, either. He’s not gonna make or break the monthly nut.”
“Any idea where he lives?” Lucas said.
“Nope. I gotta tell you, sir, he didn’t strike me as a person you want to be curious about. You notice I ain’t asking what he’s done. Don’t bother to tell me.”
Lucas took out a business card and handed it over. “Call me if he comes in. He’ll never know.”
“Sure,” the man said, in a way that suggested he wouldn’t be calling.
“You don’t want tonotcall us,” Lucas said. “You really don’t want to beanykind of accessory. Not with this guy.”
“Okay.”
A little plastic stand sat next to the shop’s cash register, with a deck of business cards on it. Lucas took one, read it, asked, “You’re Deke?”
“That’s me.”
“Thanks for the help, Deke,” Lucas said. “I’ll call you every once in a while.”
—
BOB FOUNDthe same thing that Lucas and Rae had: they checked nine stores between the three of them, and seven store operators remembered buying gold coins from Poole. Bob and Rae each found one store where the operators said they didn’t remember Poole, but in both cases neither was the store owner/manager. Nobody knew where he lived.
Back at the hotel, they agreed that they’d found the city where Poole had been living, but he hadn’t been to any of the stores less than a month earlier.
“Hasn’t sold gold since the counting house was hit,” Lucas said. “He’s got cash and doesn’t need to burn any more gold.”
“What’s next?” Rae asked.
“I’ve got to think about it. Go find Arnold first thing tomorrow.”
“We could do some of that tonight,” Rae said. “Look at his apartment, anyway. Maybe find out where he’s working.”
“We could.” Lucas yawned. “This place has a gym, I’m going to work out first. We could get some dinner and talk about Arnold, whether to go tonight or tomorrow.”
“I might look around for a playground,” Rae said.
“A playground?”
