Drago #5 (#2b). Art Inc. Spinella
nod and lifted the lid on the first box. Sal and I were pretty sure what we’d find and we were partially right. The Chief wasn’t prepared.
The two gold balls, resting on a foam matt, glistened even in the subdued light of the deposit box room.
“Holy Christmas. Is that what I think it is?”
Sal stepped closer and with the back of a fingernail rolled one of the balls. As with those found in Bandon, the surface was a flawless mirror.
“Gold of the purest kind,” I said.
“Is this how Clarise paid for everything?”
“Certainly the Holly family fortune came from something other than quartz mining.”
Lightfoot, following Sal’s lead, touched one of the balls and whistled. “That’s quite a sight, by God.” Looking at me, “Now the other one?”
“Go for it, Chief.”
Lightfoot’s hand had a small tremor. Anticipation turns to adrenalin turns to shaky fingers. He lifted the lid. Inside, another gold ball, but this one had been dissected into small nuggets. They sat in a 3-by-6 lidless box on top of a stack of papers and what appeared to be a diary type book.
Lightfoot lifted the box, set it on the table and removed the papers.
That’s as far as he got.
The deposit room door slammed open. Miss Sarah, eyes wide, mouth forming an oblong circle you could fit an apple in, fell into the room, shoved by a tall man in a ski mask, plaid shirt and jeans.
“On the floor! NOW!” The .50 caliber flat-black Desert Eagle swinging from the Chief to me to Sal and back.
Lightfoot began to reach for his Colt, thought better of it, “Okay, relax. Take what you want, but don’t be hurtin’ anyone.”
“FLOOR!”
He shoved Miss Sarah to her knees who quickly went face down with a whimper. Sal, the Chief and I followed, without the whimper. I could see Sal turn crimson. He hates being told what to do and he dislikes laying on the floor even more.
In three quick motions, the gunman threw the papers back into their deposit box, slammed the lid on the second and stacked them. He slid them under his arm and backed out of the room without another word, slamming the door behind him.
I made a deep, long sigh.
“Well, that sucks.”
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