White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 9

Mr. Satchmo

"If you say one more word about my father, I'll return to prison," his pet convict said first thing when they met again. Peter closed his mouth. Then he smiled. The kid had just turned his own threat back against him.

Neal stopped by a seller on the street offering photo frames. He pulled a photo out of the frame and paid the seller.

"Don't you want the frame?" the seller asked, baffled, as the kid put the photo in his wallet.

"No, thanks."

Peter frowned and looked at Neal. The kid wore glasses. They looked so good on him that Peter had not noticed at first.

"What's with the glasses?"

"Oh, just easier to examine the gems with."

"You have 20/20 vision."

The kid did not answer that one and they continued down the sidewalk.

"Randy's having a trunk show at his store in a few days. That's where they show their latest wares to a select group of buyers—"

"I know what a trunk show is," Peter interfered.

"Oh, excuse me," Neal grinned and continued: "He plays on the gray side of the valuable-stones market. It's not about the uniqueness of the cut, but the story behind it. The more memorable the tale, the more people will pay."

"Like getting smuggled out of a Burmese fortress?"

"Now you're proving my point. Let me do the talking."

"Or I can get a search warrant to find the damn ruby," Peter said. "Chris doesn't have time to spare."

"Which is exactly why we're not waiting around for a warrant. If the ruby's in there, I'll find out." The kid was awfully confident.

"Why does your way beat my way?" he asked.

"'Cause a friend of mine knows Randy. And don't let his rough exterior fool you. The man can slice a gem like Marcel Tolkowsky himself."

"Oh, well, Marcel Tolkowsky. Why didn't you tell me?" Something told him that this Randy would not reach the level of 'father of the modern round brilliant diamond cut' in the history books.

They walked inside a gem store with an interesting amount of clothes in the display window.

A man with a plain but sort of slippery appearance looked up and his face broke into a smile.

"Mr. Donnelly, what a surprise!"

So there was an alias the FBI did not know about, Peter sighed to himself. Then he realized something Neal had just said.

"You said friend, not alias," he mumbled.

"I consider them my friends," the kid mumbled back before reaching the man. "Randy, always a pleasure." They shook hands as if they knew each other well.

"How's the family?" Randy asked.

"Oh, you're opening Pandora's box;" the so-called Mr. Donnelly answered and pulled out his wallet. From it, he produced the picture he had just bought from the seller outside. It showed a smiling woman hugging a child. "Nancy recently made partner at the firm, and Dylan is... He's obsessed with soccer."

Peter stared at Neal, who lied with such ease. There was no way to tell that not a word coming from his mouth was true.

"Beautiful. Love the new haircut on your boy. I barely recognize him."

Peter sent a stare at Randy and understood that the man did not have a clue, even if he did not recognize the child he was supposed to know.

"Time flies. Listen, we're in a bit of a rush, Randy," his pet convict continued. "This is Nancy's brother," Peter extinguished his hand and Randy shook it, "Mr. Satchmo." Peter sent a deadly glare at Neal. "He reminded me that Nancy's birthday is coming up."