has, but it doesn’t apply here.”
He was referring to a classic, two-man short con, the kind that doesn’t give the victim enough time to think things over before it’s already sprung.
It works this way: Grifter Number One eats a meal in a fancy restaurant, then tells the manager he can’t pay because he just realized he left his wallet in his hotel room. But if the manager will wait for him to go get it, he will leave his violin for security. He opens an old-looking violin case, flashes the violin around a bit, and leaves, acting hurried and embarrassed. After he goes, another customer, Grifter Number Two, comes up to pay his own bill and asks to have a closer look at the instrument. He’s a collector, he says, and would like to buy it. He offers a huge chunk of money, at least ten times what the restaurant is likely to have for cash on-hand. The manager, of course, says it’s not his to sell, but if Number Two will wait a bit, the owner will be back shortly. Number Two says sorry, but he has to catch a hot flight to Timbuktu, and he splits. But he leaves the manager his business card and asks him to have the owner of the fiddle call.
When Number One comes back, the manager, if he’s as greedy as the grifters hope and trust, negotiates a quick purchase of the violin. Grifter Number One doesn’t want to sell, he says, but he finally agrees to do so for all the money in the place, cash only. Then he, also, suddenly remembers a hot date somewhere very far away, and he takes the money and runs. The “collector’s” business card, of course, is as phony as the two grifters, and the violin turns out to be worth maybe fifty bucks, tops. But by the time the manager knows he’s been had, both players are long gone. There are lots of variations, but that’s the purest version.
“I thought of it right away,” I said, “but the only thing I can see that it has in common with my situation is an old violin and a security arrangement. What are you seeing that I’m not?”
“I’m seeing two completely different operations, Hermie.”
“You want to lay that out for me?”
“Look, when you wipe away all the byplay, like the limp that the cute broad had, and…”
“Did I say she was cute?”
“You didn’t have to. You wipe away that, and the business with the kneeled tights…”
“Neo-Luddites, Uncle Fred.”
“Will you cut that shit out and listen for a minute?”
“Yes.”
He glared at me for a bit, daring me to interrupt him again. When I didn’t, he lit another cigarette and continued. “You sift through all the byplay, I’m saying, and if the scam still looks too complicated, then there’s something else going on.”
I waited. He made a gesture with his hand that said, Your turn .
“Like murder?” I said.
“Just like that. The killing wasn’t part of the grift. Con men aren’t hit men. If they were, they’d give up conning and go to armed robbery or extortion or murder for hire. Something with a lot more loot and a faster payoff.”
“Excuse me for being a little slow,” I said, “but I don’t see where there’s any payoff in this scheme, fast or slow. If I have to give eighteen grand to the court, that doesn’t help anybody else.”
“You won’t have to. You got a bent cop in on the scam…”
“Evans.”
“Yeah, Evans. You watch. When the time comes for the Cox kid’s trial, something will show up in the police records, makes the whole thing go away, null and void. The arrest was just to get your attention, get you to look at the violin.”
“Why me?”
“Because bondsmen have more money than restaurant managers.”
“Fair enough. But I still don’t see where the payoff comes in.”
“That’s because we haven’t seen the hook yet, only the bait.”
“But I don’t have to buy the violin from any phony musician. I already have it.”
“Do you?”
“Well, Pete does.”
“Does he?”
“Sure, he does.”
“If you say so.”
“What are you saying,
He was referring to a classic, two-man short con, the kind that doesn’t give the victim enough time to think things over before it’s already sprung.
It works this way: Grifter Number One eats a meal in a fancy restaurant, then tells the manager he can’t pay because he just realized he left his wallet in his hotel room. But if the manager will wait for him to go get it, he will leave his violin for security. He opens an old-looking violin case, flashes the violin around a bit, and leaves, acting hurried and embarrassed. After he goes, another customer, Grifter Number Two, comes up to pay his own bill and asks to have a closer look at the instrument. He’s a collector, he says, and would like to buy it. He offers a huge chunk of money, at least ten times what the restaurant is likely to have for cash on-hand. The manager, of course, says it’s not his to sell, but if Number Two will wait a bit, the owner will be back shortly. Number Two says sorry, but he has to catch a hot flight to Timbuktu, and he splits. But he leaves the manager his business card and asks him to have the owner of the fiddle call.
When Number One comes back, the manager, if he’s as greedy as the grifters hope and trust, negotiates a quick purchase of the violin. Grifter Number One doesn’t want to sell, he says, but he finally agrees to do so for all the money in the place, cash only. Then he, also, suddenly remembers a hot date somewhere very far away, and he takes the money and runs. The “collector’s” business card, of course, is as phony as the two grifters, and the violin turns out to be worth maybe fifty bucks, tops. But by the time the manager knows he’s been had, both players are long gone. There are lots of variations, but that’s the purest version.
“I thought of it right away,” I said, “but the only thing I can see that it has in common with my situation is an old violin and a security arrangement. What are you seeing that I’m not?”
“I’m seeing two completely different operations, Hermie.”
“You want to lay that out for me?”
“Look, when you wipe away all the byplay, like the limp that the cute broad had, and…”
“Did I say she was cute?”
“You didn’t have to. You wipe away that, and the business with the kneeled tights…”
“Neo-Luddites, Uncle Fred.”
“Will you cut that shit out and listen for a minute?”
“Yes.”
He glared at me for a bit, daring me to interrupt him again. When I didn’t, he lit another cigarette and continued. “You sift through all the byplay, I’m saying, and if the scam still looks too complicated, then there’s something else going on.”
I waited. He made a gesture with his hand that said, Your turn .
“Like murder?” I said.
“Just like that. The killing wasn’t part of the grift. Con men aren’t hit men. If they were, they’d give up conning and go to armed robbery or extortion or murder for hire. Something with a lot more loot and a faster payoff.”
“Excuse me for being a little slow,” I said, “but I don’t see where there’s any payoff in this scheme, fast or slow. If I have to give eighteen grand to the court, that doesn’t help anybody else.”
“You won’t have to. You got a bent cop in on the scam…”
“Evans.”
“Yeah, Evans. You watch. When the time comes for the Cox kid’s trial, something will show up in the police records, makes the whole thing go away, null and void. The arrest was just to get your attention, get you to look at the violin.”
“Why me?”
“Because bondsmen have more money than restaurant managers.”
“Fair enough. But I still don’t see where the payoff comes in.”
“That’s because we haven’t seen the hook yet, only the bait.”
“But I don’t have to buy the violin from any phony musician. I already have it.”
“Do you?”
“Well, Pete does.”
“Does he?”
“Sure, he does.”
“If you say so.”
“What are you saying,
Similar Books
