Donald repacked the emeralds from his cabinet into a smaller container and slipped them into the bottom of his footstool. Bringing them in from South America had not been easy this time. His activities had been under suspicion for some time and new routes and methods were a constant problem.

The only reason he made the deal was because he heard rumours that Ralph Morrison was brokering for some very big players and Donald was always looking for bigger game. He poured himself a stiff drink and stood by the window swearing under his breath.

The package had been right here and he'd completely missed the fact. Mike, he spat. Mike was the name the guy had given and Jessica was the dame he said had pretended to live here. He swallowed the drink. The dame must have been the one who set up the scam, he thought, going over the few facts he had. But who was she? She's connected to Ralph somehow, there's no other way possible she could know about the package.

He considered the desk clerk at the hotel and dismissed the thought, after all the hotel was his idea not Ralph's. It was Ralph. Ralph knew the broad and she put the sting on both of them.

He took out his phone and dialed the number the guy named Mike had given him and nodded as the operator said the number didn't exist.

So, Mike lied about himself but he seemed pretty straight about the broad and about being in the apartment. Donald refilled his glass and sat on the windowsill thinking. How did this Jessica get a key? He wondered if they had hooked up yet and if they hadn't, did the guy still have the package? Did he know what was in it? He knew, Carver thought. Oh yeah, he knew by now.

The guy said they met on the boardwalk so that suggests they are both from the neighbourhood. He pondered how true that might be, after all people came from all over to walk down there . . . then again.

Carver decided to wait for Ralph to make a move. He'd give him another day then they would have another chat. Who knew and how it disappeared didn't really matter, in the end it was simply down to getting the money along with Ralph's contacts.

********

Orly slouched on the stool behind the counter watching Ralph down a handful of the painkillers the hospital prescribed. He wanted to ask why Ralph had just left him on the driveway but he was smart enough to recognize a foul mood when he saw one.

"Goddamn things better work soon." Ralph stuffed the container in his pocket and picked up the phone. He stared at Orly, who remained straight-faced and still, until the phone was answered and when he asked for Jessica, Orly knew she wasn't there or wasn't letting on by the dark look on Ralph's battered face. He slammed down the phone and yanked the car keys out of his pocket, tossing them to Orly.

"Get over to her place and see if she's there. If she is, bring her back here."

He winced and patted his swollen lips.

"What if there's a struggle or something?"

"I said, if she's there, bring her back."

Orly nodded and hopped down off the stool. "Want me to call if she isn't?"

"I want you to find out where she is then call." He closed his eyes, answering with strained patience.

"But what if-"

"Jesus Christ, Orly!" Ralph screwed up his face and held his cheek gently. "Just do what I tell you!"

******

Jessica set the phone book down and underlined the address and telephone number she'd uncovered for Jeffery Bowen. A call might spook him, she felt; a visit would be much better. She stood and took her cup to the sink just as Ralph's car turned the corner.

Jessica instinctively stepped away from the window and watched the car cruise down the street, slowing as it neared her house. She could see that it was not Ralph but his gopher Orly that was driving. Orly Ruez was a low-cal gangsta with a street style and few if any actual smarts. He did, however, have a penchant for violence. Jessica peered out the edge of the window and saw him crossing the road to her front door.

Jean called and called, then cursing with annoyance, hurried out of the bathroom and opened the front door. Her hair was half dried and all she wore was a long, Pittsburgh Pirate t-shirt. Orly started to speak and stopped while he inventoried the white chick filling the doorway.

"Can I help you?" Her voice crackled.

"Sho can sweet cheeks . . . anytime."

Jean scowled and pushed the door to shut it but Orly's hand grabbed the edge and forced it back.

"Hey! Get the hell out of here!" She tried pushing again and then yelled for Jessica.

"Aah, thanks, sweet cheeks, that' answers my only question." He shoved harder, knocking her back into the hall and stepped inside, closing the door. "Just where is dear ole Jessie?"

Jessica swore under breath and considered her chances of getting out the back and around to her car. Jean calling her name had pretty much screwed any chance of denial and Orly was a bulldog when he thought he was close to his objective. She stole quietly down the cellar steps and around behind the furnace, not pleased with her decision.

It was dirty, dark and cramped and the only available weapon was a metal watering can. She held her breath and waited.

"Oh Jessie! Hey, Jess, it's me, Orly. 'Member your ole stud muffin? Came to take you for a little drive." He pointed a long finger at Jean and tilted his head in warning. "C'mon now Jessie, don't you wanna skid some wheels with old Orly?"

"She- she isn't here." Jean stuttered.

Downstairs Jessica groaned inwardly. Big mistake baby, very big mistake.

Orly turned and smiled at her. "Not here? Sweet cheeks, I heard you call her."

"I- she- I thought . . . "

"Uh uh, honey, you didn't think." He moved toward her and she cowered back against the wall. "Tell Uncle Orly where she is and you can keep that pretty face."

The snick of a knife blade alongside her chin made Jean shout in fear. Orly drew the flat of the blade over her skin and leered as the tears puddled in her eyes. "Where is she white girl?"

"Right here you bastard!" Jessica swung the watering can with all her might and the spout caught Orly across the nose as he was turning to face her. There was a wet crunch and a spray of blood tracked across the framed painting hanging on the hall wall.

"Yaaarghhh! Oh you bitch!" He dropped the knife and clutched at his broken nose trying to plug the river of blood. The watering can came down again, this time the bottom rim slamming into his forehead and Orly yelped once and slid down the wall to the floor.

Jean stood up shaking and crying and it took precious minutes for Jessica to calm her down, fabricate a story about Orly and then talk her into helping carry him out to his car.

If any neighbours noticed the two women, one barely clad and crying and the other issuing directions as she steered their way to the big sedan and stuffed the inert Orly behind the wheel, nobody let on. Stranger things had happened on this street before and people's business was people's business

Jessica drove her own car swiftly into town after tossing Orly's keys into the woods. When he came to he would have to walk to wherever and his head would be occupying most of his attention. Meanwhile, she needed to hook up with Jeff once more.