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Scam and Eggs
Scam and Eggs
Scam and Eggs
Ebook28 pages26 minutes

Scam and Eggs

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A fabulous jeweled egg made by Fabergé for the Russian imperial family disappears during an art gallery opening. Does the gallery owner have something to do with the crime? He’s had thefts from his other galleries, a pattern that retired private investigator Errol Seville believes is part of a scam to defraud the insurance company.  

Or maybe the perpetrator is the thief that Errol spots casing the gallery, looking for an opportunity to relieve patrons of their expensive jewels. Has he branched out, stealing priceless objets d’art?

The scam turns bloody when murder enters the picture. Errol may be retired, but in this short story it’s clear that he still has his private eye chops.
 

LanguageEnglish
PublisherJanet Dawson
Release dateJan 8, 2017
ISBN9781944153090
Scam and Eggs

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    Book preview

    Scam and Eggs - Janet Dawson

    Scam and Eggs

    By Janet Dawson

    ©2002 Janet Dawson.

    Cover by Julia Turner. Photo used under Creative Commons from orchidgalore.

    Scam and Eggs originally appeared in the anthology Scam and Eggs.

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

    The Rodrigos have a Fabergé egg, Minna Seville said.

    Errol Seville smiled. How very ostentatious of them.

    The retired private investigator and his wife stood on the patio behind an art gallery on Dolores Avenue in Carmel-by-the-Sea, sipping mediocre champagne and nibbling on hors d’ouvres as they watched the people around them. It was a Saturday in April, almost the dinner hour, and to the west, the sun was beginning its afternoon descent toward the turquoise waters of Carmel Bay.

    I’m impressed, even if you aren’t, Minna retorted. Those eggs are priceless, because there are so few of them. Fabergé made fifty-six eggs for the Russian royal family. Only forty-four of them survive, in museums or private collections. I saw several of them, a few years ago at that exhibit up in San Francisco. The eggs are incredible—detailed work, decorated with jewels, and they all have tiny little surprises inside. It must be a coup for a dealer or a collector to find one.

    I didn’t say I wasn’t impressed. Merely curious. When did Rodrigo acquire this trinket? Errol’s eyes narrowed as he looked through the open doorway leading into the gallery. He didn’t have it when I investigated his insurance claim after that so-called robbery.

    That had been several years ago, before Errol’s age, combined with his last heart attack, forced the investigator to close the Seville Agency. He and Minna had sold their house in Oakland and headed south, to the retirement home they’d purchased long before housing prices on the Monterey peninsula had moved from merely pricey to completely insane.

    Back then, Paul Rodrigo had owned a gallery called Xian on San Francisco’s Union Street, specializing in

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