Stephen Cannell - King Con

They had a table by the window and the salt air blew through the open front door. Victoria had changed out of her "fuck me" outfit and was back into her jeans and pea-coat, something her personality could fit into more easily. The pearl was locked in the safe under the sofa in the motor home, and Roger-the-Dodger had been assigned to stand guard while they went out and ordered New England clams. Beano had also ordered a steak and a Bud Light to go for the dog.

Victoria could tell that John and Beano were still holding back with her. But that night she was strangely elated. She would never have imagined that playing a dumb hooker would be so much fun. It was actually liberating, and her encounter with Tommy really did "put a little kerosene in the deal." She remembered the hours her mother had spent trying to get her to loosen up. Yet this con man with the dazzling smile had somehow accomplished it in one afternoon. For the first time she understood the exhilarating thrill of the unreasonable risk.

"This thing with the pearl," she said, "I still don't know how it works. How are we gonna get a hundred and fifty thousand dollars? We paid fifty; you said the pearl we bought is only worth forty. I know we're increasing by diminishing, but I don't get it. So far we're losing money, not making it."

"We're multiplying by dividing, so it doesn't matter what it's really worth," Beano said. "Tomorrow, first thing, I'm gonna go into that same store and try and buy another one just like it. We're gonna offer to pay as much as it takes."

"But we don't have any seed money left," she reminded him.

"Ouch… there's a showstopper"-he grinned-"I never thought of that."

"Stop fucking around with me, Beano," she said. "I'm not used to being played like a mark. If I'm in on this, I wanna know what I'm doing. I'm sure we're breaking half-a-dozen laws here."

"We might have to break a few before this con is over, but not on this pearl gag. We're not doing anything illegal. Least not yet," Beano said.

"Don't forget, I've read your yellow sheet. You're no choirboy."

"That's true," Paper Collar John said, straightfaced. "Once, when he was ten, in Bend River, Arkansas, I was doing a faith healer con. I was the Reverend Yancy L. Anthony of the Church of Christ Manors. I let Beano sing in the choir. He's got a terrible voice… chased most of the faithful right out of the tent. Hadda make him into 'Little Lord Angel'… youngest faith healer in the Southwest… Even at ten, you was damn good, Beano. You should a heard him preach. He could talk the money right out of a banker's pocket." Beano reddened slightly at the compliment. Finally, in a courtly gesture, he bowed his head to acknowledge his talent.

"Come on," Victoria pushed, "I want to hear it. Just start with the pearl. How are we going to turn a ten-thousand-dollar loss into a hundred-thousand-dollar profit?"

So Beano filled her in. When he was finished, she looked at him, her mouth slightly open. It was close to brilliant, and he was right… she couldn't find one single law that they would be breaking.

"Increase by diminishing," she said, slowly. "Hold on by letting go, multiply by dividing. It's really true, isn't it?"

"If you do it right," Paper Collar John said.

Then they started talking about members of the Bates family, evaluating traits and skills, eliminating and accepting candidates. It was, in her opinion, a very colorful voir dire. Besides Fit-Throwing Duffy Bates and Dakota Bates, there were the Hog Creek Bateses, whom they didn't talk about much, but who seemed to be important if there was ever any trouble. There were also "singers" to give background information to Tommy Rina when he was checking Beano out, and inside men who, she learned, were the stars of the con. Beano and John were inside men. There were outside men who roped the mark, then steered or stalled him. They were assigned to control his movement. There were "shills" and "luggers," who she found out, to her dismay, were basically extras. She was determined to somehow upgrade her category. John and Beano discussed each candidate thoroughly before putting his or her name on the list. They divided up half-a-dozen names and agreed to start calling them first thing in the morning.

Victoria Hart sat there, eating cooked crab and wondering if this was going to be the worst situation she'd gotten into in her life… or the best.

The next morning Beano was in his cowboy getup: fringed jacket, boots, and Stetson. All alone, he opened the front door of Rings 'n' Things at a little past nine and stuck his head in.

"Howdy do," he shouted into the empty store. Nobody bought jewelry at nine A.M., SO the staff was having coffee in the back. After a moment, Donald Stine came out with a cup in his hand.

"Good morning… Mr. McQueed, wasn't it?"

"Justice McQueed… sure 'nuf. Good goin' on that. Y'all got a minute? I got a little bit of a problem here…"

"Uh… well, what kind of a problem? The pearl was okay…?" Donald looked worried, even slightly frightened.

"That pearl set me up fat as a Persian prince. Little Honey-dove an' me, we been talkin" bout her goin' on home t'Black Pearl Mesa with me to stay a spell."

The store manager exhaled with relief. "That's wonderful. I'm glad everything worked out."

"'Cept she changed her mind… ain't it just like a woman…?" Beano let this moment ripen until a look of full panic formed on Donald Stine's face. Donald didn't want to have to take the pearl back in trade. He had purchased it from the Jewelry Mart and sold it to the Texan. He knew a 22mm one-of-a-kind black pearl was a white elephant. He would never get rid of it. It would become perennial inventory.

"Changed her mind?" Don breathed in as he said it, ending with a slight hiccup.

"Well, not exactly changed it… I mean, what she wants is, she wants another one just like it. She wants earrings. She says she wants me t'buy her a duplicate. So I guess she's got me running with the big dogs now." He reached for his wallet. "I'm gonna let you make 'em up into a set of earrings, maybe get us platinum settings, like you was sayin'."

"Oh. Oh… well, look, a pearl of that size and color is very, very rare. You see, they're made by oysters."

Then came the nature lesson. Beano put his empty wallet away and listened patiently.

"As you probably know, a little grain of sand gets inside the oyster shell and the oyster makes the pearl to protect itself from the sand. It's a very slow and very individual process. Size and color are all variables. To find a matching pearl of that size would be almost impossible. We'd have to get very lucky."

"Rich beats luck ever damn time." Beano grinned.

"Beg your pardon?"

"I want her t'come home t'Black Pearl Mesa with me, Mr. Stine, and them earrings is gonna do the deal. So, we gotta get her that matchin' pearl at any cost. Comprende?"

"Well, that's all very easily said, but I'm afraid nature didn't make two pearls in that exact shade and color."

"Bet nature made one pretty gol-dern close, though. I'll pay you one hundred and sixty thousand dollars for a pearl that's close enough t'be the mate."

"One sixty?" Don said, greed overtaking good sense. "Lemme get this straight… It doesn't have to be exact? Just close?"

"Hell, son, they're earrings. We ain't mintin' money here. Close is all we need. She's gonna wear the dad gum things on opposite sides of her head."

"It will take some time. That was a huge pearl. I'll have to put out a fax bulletin and a notice on the International Jewelry Exchange."

"How long is that gonna take?" Beano asked, sweeping his hat off and dropping it on the glass counter between them.

"I don't know, Mr. McQueed… maybe never."

Beano looked at him sadly. "But you'll try?"

"For a hundred and sixty thousand dollars I'd swallow a grain of sand and start making one myself," Donald grinned.