Ringer (28 page)

“It would be pure gold, yes.”

“Then why is this stamped fourteen carat on the inside?”

I cocked my head. “I am surprised they would have stamped rings at all back in those days.”

“Oh, and it also says H
APPY
G
RADUATION
, S
ON
.”

Gina and I locked suspicious eyes, the meaning of the inscription and what had happened taking a long moment to sink in.

Flashback: From behind the counter at a Forty-seventh Street jewelry factory, we see a plump Hassidic Jew waving good-bye to Robert Tyson Grant as he gets onto an elevator. The Hassid turns and pushes through a swinging door into a buzzing factory floor chockablock with jewelers hunched over their benches, some with unset diamonds and empty wedding rings spread out before them. The Hassid walks down a row to a metal shelf at the end, where he slides out a shoe box. He stirs his hand around in the box until he comes up with a large graduation ring with a chunky red stone in it. He eyes it and seems satisfied he has found what he wanted. Turning, he trudges down a row of jewelers until he stops at one of them.

“Jojo!”

A small dark man with thick magnifying goggles, a flexible shaft drill in his hand, looks up at the Hassid.

“Here!” The Hassid hands him the graduation ring and an eight-by-ten photo of the gold double-crossbarred crucifix ring of Hernando Martinez de Salvaterra.

“When?” Jojo’s magnified eyes blinked.

“Chop chop. Now. Noon.”

Jojo shrugged, and through his goggles the magnified inner band of the ring reads: H
APPY
G
RADUATION,
S
ON.

Flash forward.

Gina and I are still staring at each other.

“The bastard gypped us,” Gina spat.

I squinted, idly tossing the fake ring in my palm. “It is clear what we must do.”

“Let’s go wake the bastard.” She started to get out of bed, but I put up a hand.

“Not so fast, my sweet.” I cocked an eye at the gorgeous girl. “First of all, I need to know if you will help me, and not try to steal the ring again if we get it.” She threw a hand in the air. “To be honest, I was only getting the ring for my aunt. For me it was more like an acting job.”

“Your aunt?”

“She’s a fortune-teller and had these two, Grant and the boobs, on the hook.”

“You must be joking!”

With lips rolled, she nodded to indicate the affirmative.

“So your aunt—and I assume your cousin Tony got wrapped into this as well—was working a curse?”

Gina continued nodding.

“Let me guess. Tony was the masked man who you chased from Grant, and the same one I chased from Purity. Only he thought Grant was in the limo.”

“It wasn’t Satan, it was Tony.”

“Where did he go last night?”

“I think he’s still in the limo.”

“These rich people think they are so smart. First they fall for the curse scam, then a jeweler passes them a fourteen-carat graduation ring for what is supposed to be a relic made from pure Hapsburg medallion gold.” I held up the ring. “As Lincoln used to say, better to be a wise wretch than a rich fool.”

“That sounds more like Benjamin Franklin.”

“Maybe, but you see what I am trying to say, yes?”

“Do tell?”

“It sometimes astounds me that people who pay so little attention to detail and lack any street smarts do not have all their money taken from them overnight. So will you help me switch this ring for the other one?”

“Don’t count on Tony, but I’m in.” Gina smiled and bounced gently on the bed. “Sounds like fun. You’re not mad at me?”

“We are all as God made us, and in a way, you may be part of His plan to pry the ring out of this deceitful tycoon and his wily paramour. You say you are an actress?” I put the finger back in its humidor and latched the lid shut.

“Yeah, but I’m not the right shape.” She continued to bounce, and in a most delightful way. “Same reason I’m not a model. The clothes don’t fit.”

“That is, of course, quite insane.” I cocked an eyebrow. “In Baja you
would
be the right shape, and they like it when the clothes on a woman are too small. I should help you to find work acting in movies there.”

“Do they do martial arts movies? That’s what I have on my résumé. I’m a yellow belt in Shui Ping.”

“In Mexico they adore wrestling movies, which are almost the same thing. Very popular.”

“I do speak some Spanish.”

“Your exquisite shape is the only language you’ll need in Mexican cinema.”

She kept bouncing. I was still deep in thought, trying to figure out our next move, how to find out where Grant had the ring and how to swap it out with the graduation ring.

“Señor Morty?”
Bounce, bounce, bounce
 …

“Yes,
querida
?”

“Uno más, por favor?”

CHAPTER

FORTY-ONE

WE HAVEN’T HAD MANY SCENIC
shots in this movie, except perhaps of Manhattan when we went zipping from one place to the next. I am running out of time with writing this story, my execution is next week, so I need to jump ahead to breakfast. Let us do as chapter 9 of
Screenwriting: Yes You Can!
suggests and insert a time lapse of the starry night over the ocean brightening until the horizon gives birth to an orange gooey sun. This will suggest the passage of time while setting the stage for the next scene, which was indeed quite a scene because all the major characters were finally assembled in one place: the poolside patio.

Beneath a sun umbrella, Grant sat at one end of an oblong glass-top patio table, Dixie at the other. He was in a white polo shirt and navy swim trunks; she was in a striped turquoise halter-top sundress. On one side was Purity in pigtails, large sunglasses, artfully torn black T-shirt, and matching pleather bikini bottom. She sat cross-legged in her chair and had not touched her scrambled eggs or the fruit or any of what had been plated for her.

Gina and I sat opposite Purity, she back in her black cocktail dress as she had no change of clothes, and I back in my tan suit.

Conversation had been sparse up to that point. Grant was expansive and hungry, but only when he was looking at Gina. Dixie was cautious and polite, the gears in her head clearly at work. Gina and I were sleepy but reviving from our escapades. She was much livelier
uno más
time around.

Purity was still trying to recover from the sleeping pills, a cigarette smoldering languidly between her lips. She cradled a large mug of coffee, texting on her phone and seeming to ignore the rest of us.

Topics of conversation had been limited to the kind of day that it was: classic summer beach weather, not too hot, breezy, sunny. All agreed that it was indeed a nice day.

I dabbed my lips with my napkin. “I must say that this has been a most unusual visit to the States, and the demise of the ring a most remarkable conclusion.”

Grant gestured to Gina with a smile that made Dixie frown. “For me the ring hardly tops the way Gina saved my life.”

“Yes, that is
remarkable
.” Dixie beamed. “I mean, who was this mysterious attacker? Was he the same one that attacked Purity? What a coincidence.”

“I am not so sure that it was coincidence.” I held up a finger. “It is quite possible that this apparition was the agent of Satan himself, as Gina has suggested. After all, my mission to recover the ring was as an agent for the diocese, for Father Gomez of Nuestra Señora de Cortez, and thus by proxy for God Himself, yes? So who else would intercede against God other than Satan?”

Grant focused on me for the first time since I’d met him. “You are quite a religious man, aren’t you, Mr. Martinez? You honestly believe in the devil?”

“How can I not when his work is all around us?”

“Let me ask you: If there is a God, why doesn’t He do away with the devil? Why does He allow tragedy?” Grant’s thumb worked the vacant spot on the finger where the ring used to be.

“It is not God who allows evil. Man allows it by inviting Satan and his works into his heart. If there were not God, only bad things would happen. There would be no good in men’s hearts at all. As I believe Lincoln once said, men are men because they are free to do evil as well as good.”

Purity mumbled, “John Burroughs, not Lincoln.”

Grant pointed his fork at me. “This attacker could be almost anyone with a grudge against me, an insane person, a stalker. Isn’t that easier to believe than he was Satan’s manifestation?”

“I’m not sure I see the difference, actually, between the man you describe and Satan’s agent. They could be one and the same.” Grant’s smug manner told me he had the ring on him and that he was talking about the ring being gone even while it was right here in the room with us, that he could feel the smooth gold relic against his skin.
Somewhere.

“Yes, but why would this ring be so important to Satan?”

“An excellent question, Señor Grant. I would answer that question with another question: Why is the ring so important to
you
?”

“It was a gift, from a childhood friend who said it would bring me good fortune.”

“Was it the ring or your business acumen that brought you the good fortune and the many riches you enjoy?”

“Like most people, I hedge my bets when it comes to luck. The success I made the old-fashioned way through hard work, determination, and timing. I’m sentimental about the ring. It reminds me of where I came from and how far I’ve come.”

“Perhaps all the way from the orphanage in La Paz?”

“That’s correct. One of the other orphans gave it to me. I had no idea of the ring’s provenance, that it was a relic. I was hesitant to give it to you until we had verified your credentials with Father Gomez. You must understand that a lot of crackpots approach me with various ventures and start-ups, so I have to have everybody I meet vetted.”

“But of course.”

Dixie gasped. “Babykins, you never told me that story about the ring.”

“Sorry, Dix, it’s a very personal story, but what with all this fuss, and the ring being gone, well, I felt it was time to air it out, that’s all. It is a shame the relic can’t be restored, though it seems clear God wanted it this way. Perhaps that conquistador was never meant to have the ring in the first place.” Somehow I think the conquistador he was talking about was me.

“Perhaps, though, its rightful place is with the church, guardian of all things sacred.”

“Its rightful place
was
with the church until it burned up.” To me it was as if he were saying,
I am way too clever for you. We both know I still have it, but there isn’t a thing you can do about it. I am the rich and powerful tycoon, and you are but a lowly Mexican who has come scratching. You never even had a chance.
“In any case, I’m prepared to authorize a charitable donation from the Grant Foundation to your parish in the amount of ten thousand dollars. It is a gesture of regret that I was unable to return the ring and perhaps some compensation for the loss of such an important and rare relic.” He was looking at Gina as he said this, trying to impress the girl with his largesse.

I sipped my coffee. “That is very generous, Señor Grant, and I’m sure Father Gomez will be able to put that money to good use, perhaps even toward the orphanage from which you originated.” I was being outmaneuvered, and to be honest, had he turned me out then, I did not have a viable plan for discovering the ring’s location and switching it with the graduation ring. “In fact, I am indebted myself to the Nuestra Señora de Cortez orphanage. You see, my father—”

“I know you made personal sacrifices to recover the ring for the church, and for that I’m sure Father Gomez is grateful. The least I can do, then, is to fly you back to Baja Sur this afternoon. Dixie, Purity, and I are headed to Cabo San Lucas on my Gulfstream this morning. Will you join us?”

“WTF?” Purity looked up from her phone, an inch-long ash from her cigarette dropping to her lap. “I’m going
where
? I was asked about this
when
?”

Dixie put a sympathetic hand on the table in Purity’s direction. “Sweetheart, we know you were having trouble deciding on which rehab center to choose, so we picked one for you in Cabo.”

“What’s wrong with the one less than a mile from here?” Purity pointed a finger up the beach in dismay.

“The lawyers felt it would be better if you went out of the country this time. It is a little too easy for you to escape from the one here.”

“Escape? What, am I a
prisoner
?”

Dixie smiled sweetly. “Either a prisoner in rehab or a prisoner in prison, take your choice.”

“Hold the phone.
I asked to go to prison
.”

“I think somehow a beach resort rehab will be a lot nicer than a state institution where you share a room with another woman whom you don’t know. Sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be out.”

Grant raised his chin at me. “So can we give you a lift, Martinez?”

“Can I come?” Gina blurted, smiling at Grant. “Morty said he wanted to introduce me to some people in the film industry down there.”

A brilliant tactical move by Gina, yes? She put Grant in direct competition with me, and he would not casually lose the prospect of Gina. Not to someone like me. Also, of course, if she came along she could help me recover the ring while in the evenings we
uno más
.

Dixie blinked rapidly. “Surely you don’t have your passport with you, Gina?”

“Actually, I do, it’s in my purse. I got back from some stunt work in Toronto yesterday, and it’s still in my bag.”

“Robert, is your Gulfstream large enough for all of us?” Dixie thought she was giving him an out, or possibly a mild put-down—but she was making it more difficult because she was making him admit that his jet wasn’t big enough. Men inherently despise admitting anything belonging to them is not big enough, and if you need to know why that is so or need it explained, then you really should be watching SpongeBob instead of this movie.

Grant steeled himself. “The airport here can’t accommodate
my airliner,
but the Gulfstream seats six.”