giving the busboy such a brilliant smile he accidentally overfilled her glass, slopping water on the tablecloth. “I’m not worried about it.”
“So you fly to Stockholm together and then what? I mean, you can’t just wander around asking everyone you meet questions.”
“You said you knew this Silverhielm guy has the stamps.”
“I said I thought he had the stamps. Not the same thing as knowing.”
“Well, I hope you’re pretty certain, because I’ve got a plan for getting in good with Silverhielm. It means taking a risk, though.”
“How do you mean?”
Joss hesitated. “I need to take the Blue Mauritius.”
“You’re out of your mind.” Gwen’s reply was immediate. “That stamp is in the bank vault where it belongs, and that is where it’s going to stay.”
“We’ve got to have it to smoke out Silverhielm,” Joss argued and outlined the plan, leaving out the fact that Bax had had doubts.
“It’s too risky,” Gwen almost wailed. “Do you know what it would do to the value of that stamp if it got so much as creased? Let alone wet or torn. It wouldn’t even be worth the price of a replica. We can’t take that chance.”
“We have to,” Joss told her. “It’s the only angle I can think of. Don’t you want the one-penny Mauritius back?” she coaxed.
Gwen pressed her face into her hands. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this. You swear you’ll be incredibly careful with it?” she demanded, raising her head.
“I swear.”
“And you’ll put it in a bank vault over there until you need it?”
“Don’t worry about it, Gwen.”
“Oh, like that makes me feel better. You need to take this seriously, Joss.”
“I do take it seriously. Haven’t I been different since I came back this time? Haven’t I?” she demanded.
Gwen nodded grudgingly. “You’ve done a good job at the store. Frankly, I expected you to be gone a long time ago.”
“I’ve changed, Gwen, I really have. Letting Jerry steal the stamps was a screwup by the old me. I need to make it better. Anyway, we’ve got Bax on the case, remember? He knows what he’s doing.”
“And what is he doing so far to earn his exorbitant fee?”
Joss shrugged. “He doesn’t go on the clock until we leave, and that’s got to wait for me to get my passport. Right now, he’s looking into Silverhielm’s background. I figure I’ll see what I can find out, too.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Get a briefing from you, for starters. I need everything you know about the stamps Silverhielm has, who he deals with, where he lives, anything. If you’ve got it electronically and can send it to Bax, so much the better.”
“That’s not going to help you find him, though,” Gwen pointed out.
“I know.” Joss paused. “I need to go see Stewart.”
Gwen sat absolutely still for a long moment. “Why do you need to go see Stewart?” she asked finally. “I told you before, he says he doesn’t know anything.”
“I don’t believe that. Maybe nothing obvious, but I bet he knows some little nugget that will help us.”
“He’s in Las Vegas. It’ll mean driving or flying.”
“I know.”
“It’s not free, Joss,” Gwen said with an edge to her voice.
“I know. You said we could use your winnings from the poker tournament to pay for Stockholm and Bax. I found a ticket that’s twenty-nine bucks each way. I’ll fly down in the morning and back in the afternoon. You won’t even have to pay for a hotel.”
Gwen drummed her fingers restlessly on the table.
“What makes you think he’ll talk to you?” she demanded. “He’ll barely remember you.”
“That might make it easier. He’s probably so stir-crazy in the slammer that he’ll see anyone just for something different. Besides, he’s already pleaded guilty. At this point, he’s just negotiating with the Vegas and San Francisco D.A.s, so it’s not like anything he tells me will make a difference. What’s he got to lose?”
Gwen mulled it over as the waiter set her grilled trout in front of her. “I feel like I should be the one doing it, but I just can’t.” She swallowed. “Do you understand?”
Gwen had always been so self-sufficient that she sometimes seemed more the grown-up than Joss. Seeing her vulnerability now, Joss felt fury at Stewart Oakes anew. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.” She stared at her sister. “I’m going to bring back the one-penny Mauritius, Gwen, I swear it.”
“Well, you’d better be quick about it. Grandma and Grampa are due back in a month.”
Joss grinned. “Hey, with me and Superhunk on the case, it’s a done deal.”
JOSS SAT in the visitation room at the Clark County jail, waiting for Stewart. Even though she was on the outside, there was a heaviness in the air that made her shiver a little as she sat in front of the Plexiglas window at her assigned booth. She was here voluntarily. She could leave at any time. What must it be like to be inside, to be without a choice?
Except that an inmate like Stewart Oakes had made his choice long since.
Around her, the faces of the other visitors largely mirrored her unease. The expressions were sober, mostly, and distracted. It wasn’t a happy room. People came here because there was trouble. Only the children seemed blithely unaware of the tension in the air.
For a while, nothing happened. Then she heard the faint sound of a door opening and the prisoners began to file into the visiting area on the other side of the Plexiglas, under the watchful eyes of the guards.
She wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d had no recent connection with Stewart as Gwen had had. Then again, knowing him hadn’t protected Gwen from nearly being shot, so Joss wasn’t sure it really mattered. He’d either show or he wouldn’t, he’d talk or he wouldn’t. Either way, she’d at least know she’d tried.
The man who sat down, wearing tired-looking orange coveralls, looked nothing like she remembered. Joss had seen a photo of Stewart pinned to the office bulletin board. In it, he’d been laughing, his arms around Gwen and their grandfather. Despite the streaks of gray at his temples, he’d looked young, lighthearted.
He didn’t look lighthearted now. Jail had not been kind to him. Age sat heavy on his shoulders. Dark smudges underlay his eyes and his skin looked grainy, his expression defeated. Some of her anger morphed to pity. She picked up the phone on her side of the transparent barrier.
Stewart blinked at her and scowled, picking up his phone in turn. “What do you want?”
“I’m Gwen’s sister Joss. I was hoping we could talk.”
He studied her. “Is Gwen here?”
Joss shook her head. The disappointment that flickered over his face erased her pity and aroused her anger all over again. “Are you surprised? Stewart, you held a gun on her.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then shook his head. “I wrote her a letter. Did she get it?”
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t going to give him an inch, not here. After the damage he’d wrought, a letter of apology was laughable. “You put her through the wringer. She’s still getting over it.” Joss watched him rub his temples. “It looks like you’re doing the same.”
He