Flying Solo(60)

Laurie could see Rocky reading the letter and shaking his head. Getting rid of the lorem ipsum and the dummy text at the bottom had been as simple as Nick putting an index card over it when he copied it behind the reference desk.

“He set me up. He knew we might get caught, and he set me up.”

“Look, I told you, he’s not a genius. He just holds his breath and hopes he can sell something for a ton of money without anybody getting it appraised. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, you know that. You have to know that. He’s faking his way through it, which is what he’s been trying to do from the beginning. He’s just a bullshitter.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t you just go to him?”

“Because fuck him, that’s why. He would’ve told me a dog ate it. And also because…I might have a buyer for it.”

Rocky laughed. “After all this, you want to sell it.”

“Not like he does. Not for a hundred grand. Just to the grandson of a nice rich lady who thinks it will remind her of her late husband. He’s going to give me six thousand dollars. And instead of getting a measly bite of a bunch of money that’s not coming and maybe going to jail for fraud, you’ll get half of six thousand real dollars. But it has to be now, because that’s when he wants it.”

“How do I know this is even true? How do I know you’re not just trying to get it away from me?”

“Call him yourself,” Ryan as John No Last Name told him. “His name is Nick, and you’ll find him answering the main number at the Whipwell County Public Library. You can look it up yourself.”

One piece left.

Rocky took his phone out of his pocket. Laurie watched him poke buttons, looking for the number. Then she looked down at a row of silver rings while she listened closely. “Hi, is this Nick? Hi, Nick, this is Rocky. I’m here with your friend John, and we’re making some arrangements about your purchase…Yes, I have it. It’s in my truck right now.”

Laurie’s mind was an overactive toddler all of a sudden: Holy moley, wow wow wow, it’s in his truck right now, they are leaning on the truck and it’s right in there. The undoubtedly very nice man behind the table with the rings looked like he might try to talk to her, so she turned away from him and made herself look preoccupied by doing the very first thing she could think of: googling “famous ducks.” She continued to listen.

“And what price did the two of you agree on? Right, right. And you understand it doesn’t come with documentation, you’re buying it as an art piece, as is, yes?…Oh, it’s a great example, no question. I think she’ll love it.” He looked at his watch. “Oh, wait, you need it today? Oh, I see. I see. Her party is at six-thirty?” Again, looking at his watch. “Well, that’s a little bit of a problem, because I’m here at this event until six.”

Ryan—“John”— broke in to say in a stage whisper, “I can take it to him.”

“I’d really rather handle it personally, to tell you the truth,” Rocky said into his phone. “Maybe I could come by with it during the party, make it a surprise?” Putting away her phone, Laurie moved to a table of scarves staffed by a young woman who seemed engrossed in her book and unlikely to try to chat. She pictured Nick with the front desk phone cradled in his shoulder, emphatically repeating that he absolutely had to have the piece by 5:30, or there was no deal. “Hang on a minute,” Rocky said. He muted the phone, then went back to talk to Ryan. “I don’t like it, I want to be there, I want to see the money.”

“He’s a librarian,” Ryan said. “He likes books. He tells people to stop talking for a living. What do you think, he’s lying?” Nick would undoubtedly say that Ryan was enjoying this a little bit too much. Putting a little too much mustard on it, as Laurie’s dad used to say.

Finally, Rocky went back to the phone. “Okay. John’s going to bring it by your work and pick up the money…yes, good working with you too, I hope she gets a lot of enjoyment out of it. I’ll speak to you later.” He hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket. “That’s that, I guess.”

Laurie looked over at the truck, where Ryan was standing by the back wheel on the driver’s side. Rocky walked around and opened the passenger door again, and he took out a canvas bag. He walked over to Ryan, and she could see it. Her duck. She could see her duck, as Rocky put it in Ryan’s hands. “Take good care of it,” he said. After a minute, he handed over the canvas bag, too, and Ryan put it inside. “Might as well take the whole thing. How are we meeting up so I can get my money?”

Ryan took out his phone. Well, not his phone—his burner phone. The one he used for anything where he didn’t want somebody to have his personal number. He had considered it a delightful marker for fame when his agent had told him it was time to get one. “Gimme your cell number,” he said. Rocky rattled it off, and Ryan typed it into his phone. “Here, I’ll text you, and now you have my number. Text me where you want to meet in a day or two, and I’ll have the money.”

Rocky nodded. “What am I going to tell Matt?”

Ryan shrugged one shoulder. “Tell him somebody broke into your truck. What’s he gonna do? Call the cops?”

“He’ll be pissed.”