From The Grave

Chapter 25

The store door chime sounded and Arny looked at Gretta.

"I thought we locked that."

"Check it out, Pinky was about to get the stamp, weren't you, Pinky?"

Arny left and returned almost immediately, hands half raised and shielding his captor in the doorway.

"Miss Lawrence, I presume. I've heard much about you; how nice to put a face to the name."

"Perhaps you could do the reverse for me." She started to get up.

"Ah, ah, I don't think that would be prudent." He waved her back down. "Please turn around and don't move or talk or your friend here will pay a price."

She shrugged her eyes at Arny and obeyed.

"Very good. Now, Mr. Stiltz, get the stamp please and no procrastinating or this young man and that lovely lady will suffer."

Pinky stumbled to a dusty cabinet behind his desk and removed a small box from inside. He removed an envelope and held it out in quivering fingers.

"Excellent. Thank you all for your cooperation. Now, Mr. Stiltz you will come with me to the front of the store and if your guests try anything, Mr. Stiltz, you will pay dearly. Are we clear everybody?" He waited a beat. "I said, are we—"

"Clear, clear. Yes we are clear." Arny chimed with Gretta.

"Good. Cheerio then."

At the front door Pinky was told that he not to say another word to anyone about the stamp or anything connected to it if he didn't want a return visit and a very painful lesson in obedience. Pinky stayed trembling by the door as the man left.

"You okay, Pinky?" Gretta asked slipping past him and looking out at the street.

"I'm not saying another word to you or anyone else about that stamp business."

"Or else?"

"He threatened me, yes."

"Okay. Just let me have a look at your surveillance tape and you won't hear from us again."

"I don't know..."

"It's that, or we talk one way or another."

Gretta studied the tape and then decided to take it with her, over Pinky's protests.

"Chin up. Pinky. You never said a word." Arny patted his back as they left the store. The closed sign went up immediately.

Bishop couldn't take his eyes off of the envelope that Bryce had placed on his desk. Could it be this easy? He stared at his aide and assessed the calm demeanor, the almost superior set to his face as he watched his employer in return.

"Was there any- did he just give it to you?"

"He did. Oh, by the way, your friend Miss Lawrence and her friend were already there."

Bishop's head snapped up. "Lawrence! What happened?"

"Nothing. I said hi, got the stamp and left."

The smug behavior was getting under Bishop's skin and he struggled with his temper while he considered what to ask. Bryce chuckled and walked to the side bar and Bishop's mouth fell open at the easy assumption the young man was making about helping himself.

"She didn't seem to be much of a threat to me; I don't know why everyone holds her in such awe." He splashed some liquor into a glass and drank with a self-satisfied insouciance.

"Tell me what happened."

"I told you. She did exactly as I said and that was it. I left with no trouble. "Frankly I think she's—"