fifty pagesâ progress in the Veblen, decidedly less on either of my cases. Iâd met with the Kroons and we decided to give the Corpse Fucker two more months of weekends: if he hadnât reappeared by Halloweâen, weâd leave the cameras up but forego the nightly watch. That meant resigning ourselves to another attack. No one was happy with that. Everyone agreed to it.
When I walked into Imperial Pawn I saw Mr. Ramsey seated on the stool showing unpolished jewellery to a lanky East Asian woman of about forty. They were the only two people in the room.
âAfternoon,â I said. âIs your daughter in?â
Ramsey looked at me as if heâd never set eyes on me before, and wasnât all that impressed now that he had. He turned his attention back to the woman, helped her with the clasp on a bracelet.
I leaned over the counter close enough so the two of them were within armâs reach. âDid some tragic illness befall her? A seventy-two-hour virus, maybe?â
âI like this one,â the woman said. Ramsey nodded.
Looking between them I said, âI donât understand why youâre not more cooperative, considering you and your daughter are two of the last people to see that child before he went missing.â
The woman looked up, looked at me, looked at Ramsey. âWhat child?â she asked.
I took a flyer from my coat pocket and unfolded it. Two Django James Szabos stared at her, the petulant expression from the school photo and a lower-quality image blown up from a birthday photo taken by his aunt.
âHe disappeared just out front, parked in a car on that side street.â I pointed through the wall. âMr. Ramsey hasnât been much help. Iâm not really sure why.â I turned to Ramsey and gave him an expression of innocent puzzlement. âDo you not want the child to be found, Mr. Ramsey?â
âI donât want to get mixed up,â he said in explanation to his customer, who had withdrawn from the counter, leaving the bracelet.
âYou put your own convenience over a missing child?â
âI donât know anything.â
âNot what he said on Tuesday,â I told the woman.
She said something to Ramsey that I didnât catch, but couldnât have been too different from âI want nothing to do with you, asshole.â
After he had buzzed her out, Ramsey turned to me, dull fury written on his face.
âShe looked like a good customer,â I said. âThat wouldâve been, what, a four-hundred-dollar sale?â
âGet out of my store.â
âWhereâs your daughter?â
âShe doesnât know anything. Go.â
âWe both know you were there,â I said. âYou think Szabo didnât tell me? Or that the cops wouldnât back him up, I ask them?â I picked up the bracelet and let it fall. âThe fact you tried to game me tells me something.â
No answer, just a sullen, unblinking stare. I pounded my fist on the table, causing the jewellery to rattle and Ramsey to wobble on his stool. He was squat and solid-looking, but age and a sedentary lifestyle were working against him. Once he regained his balance he was quick to sweep the jewellery back into its display box.
âSee, I donât think youâd hurt a child. You have one of your own, which generally means you have some degree of empathy. But why run interference for someone like that? Kind of parent does that to another parent?â
âI know nothing,â he reiterated. I could tell by his expression the words sounded false even to his ears. I could also tell that heâd cling to them as long as he could.
âHow âbout you talk to me and letâs decide that together. Doesnât have to involve the law or anyone else. Or you could talk directly to Mr. Szabo.â
The door to the back room opened. If Ramsey had wavered at all during our conversation, at the sight of his