SIX
Anthea
Marcel had toldme to stay out of the way, but I’d learned early on in my marriage how to move through a house without drawing unwanted notice. And pretty much all notice in the Hoffman household had been unwanted.
I wandered through the open rooms on all three floors of the house, taking note of the comings and goings of the Hell Kickers underlings and the staff. Like in the Noble mansion, a few of the members of Marcel’s inner circle spent a significant part of their working day in his home, and lackeys were constantly coming and going to report to or consult with the higher-ups.
The shipment the Hell Kickers had stolen had been a lot of pricy merchandise Ezra had been fencing, collected from various operations around the county. Mostly jewelry and small antiques, he’d said—a hundred thousand dollars’ worth. He’d never have done a deal that big with an unknown quantity, but he’d trusted Marcel’s people.
I didn’t catch anyone talking about the Nobles or the stolen shipment during my first full day in the house, so by the late afternoon, I decided I’d better switch tactics to speed things along a little. After my hostile reception from the Rosano brothers, I didn’t want to linger here any longer than required to see my mission through.
I caught the attention of a particularly youthful lackey on his way out, motioning him over as I worried at my lower lip with my teeth as if I were nervous. He looked me up and down, giving no sign of whether he recognized me or not, but the fact that I was here in the house and not dressed like I was about to do a striptease must have given him enough confirmation that I held some kind of importance.
“Hey,” I said. “Sorry to bother you. It’s been a while since I was last here, and I’m not totally up on who’s handling what these days… If I wanted to unload a few heirlooms discreetly, is there someone I could talk to about that?”
The young guy, who I doubted was even out of his teens, cocked his head. “For the big stuff, I think it’s Mick who’s mostly in charge with that, but I haven’t seen him around today. He probably wouldn’t want to be bothered. You could try Brant. I think he’s been part of some of those kinds of deals, smaller scale stuff. I saw him out back.” He jabbed his thumb toward the other end of the house.
“Brant,” I repeated. “What’s he look like, so I make sure I talk to the right guy?”
The lackey chuckled. “I dunno—brown hair, curly… About as tall as I am? Shout his name, and he’ll be the one who answers.”
He took off, and I headed toward the backyard.
Since this was Brooklyn and not Paradise City, it was a relatively small yard despite the size of the house. No private shooting ranges here. As far as I could tell, it wasn’t reserved for any specific kind of business, only discussions that spilled out there when people needed a change of scenery.
Finding Brant was easy enough. There was only one person back there right now, a stocky guy with curly brown hair who was pacing back and forth across the patio stones as he spoke in low tones into his cellphone. I hung back by the door, waiting until he finished the call, positioning myself as meekly as I could.
As soon as he lowered the phone from his ear, I stepped off the narrow deck toward him. “Brant?”
He scowled at me, more sour than imposing. I didn’t think he was out of his twenties yet, so not likely someone who had a whole lot of authority. That was better for my purposes anyway. People who were less practiced, less familiar with how much was at stake, made more mistakes.
“What do you want?” he asked tersely.
I folded my arms over my chest as if hugging myself. “We can talk later if you’re busy. But one of the other Hell Kickers told me you might be a good person to reach out to if I had a few family heirlooms I wanted to put on the marketplace—without word getting out.”
He studied me, and a faint spark of interest lit in his eyes. “You’re Anthea Noble. I heard you’d crashed the party. What, are you looking to sell some of your brother’s shit behind his back?”
I guessed even with my keeping a low profile, it wouldn’t have taken long for the underlings who spent the most time around the house to catch wind of my arrival. Marcel might not have gossiped, but there were his sons and that Griffin guy and whoever else had seen me arrive. It was hard to stay totally unnoticed when you had hair as flaming red as mine.
I drew my chin up straighter with a dignity I figured he’d expect from a member of the Nobles, even a disgraced one. “It’s my ‘shit’ too. I’m as much a part of the family as he is. And I’m going to need some money. Can you help me or what?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I haven’t handled anything major when it comes to fencing; I just help out with that side of things when I’m called on. But a few pieces, nothing too big, I could figure out a good place to move them. What kind of heirlooms are we talking about?”
I’d brought a few things with me in case I needed them for this kind of bartering, although what I was really looking for was information rather than money. They were part of my inheritance from my late husband, and I didn’t give a crap what happened to Clyde’s family relics, but no one here would recognize the difference.
“A couple of necklaces,” I said, “gold, one with diamonds, the other with sapphires. A pocket watch, and a first edition of James Joyce’sUlysses.” Which I’d found almost as ponderous as Clyde was when I’d tried to read it ages ago.
Brant hummed to himself. “I’ll put out some feelers, see who’s looking. The book will probably be the hardest since I’m guessing there are fewer people looking for those, and the collectors tend to talk to each other.”
“Whatever you can manage,” I said. “I’ll be here. And I’m willing to compromise on the price to move them quickly.”
“That always helps.” He gave me a scrutinizing look that briefly felt more mature than his appearance suggested. I kept up an inane smile of gratitude, willing him not to see anything beyond it.
“I’ve got Hell Kickers business to take care of too, of course,” he went on. “I’ll let you know when I have a chance to get around to it.”
“Sure, I understand.” I waved off the remark while letting my smile tighten as if getting this money really did matter a lot to me. Better that he saw me as a desperate girl than a woman with deeper schemes up her sleeves.
Brant turned away from me, and I inhaled quickly before I lost the one lead I’d gotten. “I heard some guy named Mick also handles a lot of the fencing. If you’re too busy, maybe you could point me to him.”