Page 13 of A Breath of Life
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
“Check for a mark. Usually, real gold is marked.”
He didn’t check and tapped it against the table for whatever reason as though testing its vitality.
“It could be worth a fortune,” I added.
“It’s not.”
Unwilling to argue in circles, I checked the pouch to be sure that was all it contained. “What do you think it is?”
“A playing card. The ace of spades, like you said.”
I deadpanned. “Thanks for stating the obvious, D. I figured that much out on my own.”
He glared.
I glared right back.
“Are you satisfied now?” he asked, sliding the card across the table. “Put it back in the pouch, and I’ll go down the street and throw it away.”
“What? Are you kidding? This thing could be worth a lot of money.” I squinted at the shiny surfaces of gold, seeking a marking but not finding one. “We should have it appraised. Memphis knows a guy who—”
“No. We’re getting rid of it.”
“Diem, I swear to god this is gold, and if it’s gold, then maybe this here is silver.” I traced the outline of the spade. “And if it’s real silver, then who knows what these gemstones are.”
“Plastic.”
“You don’t know that. They don’t look like plastic. They don’t feel like plastic.” I scraped a nail over one, seeing if I could pick it off, but it didn’t budge.
Diem took the playing card from my hand again, scrutinizing it more than the first time. He couldn’t argue, and after several long minutes, his frown deepened. “If it’s real, it’s probably stolen. Hence why that asshole wanted us to dispose of it. He didn’t want to possess stolen goods.” He waved the card in the air. “Now we have it, and if we’re caught with this thing—”
“There might be a reward. If it was stolen.”
“Tallus—”
“I’m serious, Guns. This thing looks valuable. We can’t toss it in a dumpster.”
He set the card down again and stared at it for a long time. “How much?”
“What do you mean?”
“How much do you think it’s worth?”
“Oh. I… don’t know, but it won’t be chump change.”
“Hundreds?”
I glanced at the card and shrugged. “At least. I’m guessing more like thousands.”
Diem made a fist, knuckles cracking. His teeth suffered the same abuse as he clenched his jaw. The gears in his head visibly spun, so I waited him out, knowing it was better to let him process on his own without pushing too hard.
Our financial situation had vastly improved with our new living arrangement and the cases we’d brought in lately, but if the card was stolen and someone was looking for it and offering a reward, I had a feeling we could be in line for a substantial windfall. No one, not evenDiem, could disregard that possibility and simply throw away an item of potentially significant value.
“You said you knew someone who could appraise it?” he asked.
