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almost panicky way, that he didn’t like watching someone else with the bracelet.
His
bracelet… He shook his head and tried to overcome the feeling, but it wouldn’t let go.
    The man bent forward, eyeglass jammed to his face, closely examining the bracelet from every possible angle. It seemed to take forever but finally he put it down on the counter top. “Excuse me
just
one second…”
    “Sure, OK.”
    Gabe watched the man disappear into the back of the shop and quickly picked up the bracelet, an unexpected sense of relief flooding through him ashe closed his fingers round it. He’d got the distinct impression the man was if not excited then extremely interested, and he wondered what would happen next. What would he do if the man wanted to buy it right there and then?
    Instead of trying to figure out the answer to that question, he looked down at the velvet-lined trays under the glass. One had a display of old watches, hands all set to exactly ten minutes past ten, another displayed ranks of sparkling diamond rings, and a third contained various lockets and chains. Everything here had been brand new once, each piece probably somebody’s prized possession; he wondered about the different paths they’d taken to all end up here, in a cabinet, at the back of some shop in Studio City. The slight cough of someone clearing their throat made Gabe look up. The man was back.
    “It’s nice… It’s, ah, very nice, in its way. I just, ah –” the man gestured towards the rear of the shop, smiling and nodding – “I just checked and I’d say it was worth, oh, I don’t know, maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty bucks. Or so? Around that.”
    Gabe was shocked; the man was treating him like a kid and hadn’t even bothered to
try
and lie like he meant it.
    “Oh, and yes … I was wondering…” the man frowned, looking down at the spot on the counter where he’d left the bracelet. “You have it?”
    Gabe nodded.
    “Yes, well, as I say, I was wondering whether there was … whether you had anything else like this? By any chance?”
    “No.” Gabe slowly moved the hand holding the bracelet behind his back. “No, I don’t. And thanks for the ‘valuation’. I’ll think about it.”
    “Look, I’m sorry if you didn’t like the price – why don’t you let me take another look? Maybe I can do better…”
    “I have to go.” Gabe put the bracelet in his pocket. “But thanks anyway.”
    “Look, this is, how shall I say, a
bargaining
situation. It’s what we do in the antiques business! It’s a trade, like in a souk, if you know what I mean? I say a price, you say a price, we dance a little?” The man actually performed some weird little dance movement. “And then, what we end up doing, wecome to an agreement everyone’s happy with. That is what we do – how we do business…”
    “Well, I don’t have the time to do that today, mister—”
    “LeBarron, Mr LeBarron,” the man interrupted, reaching into his breast pocket and bringing out a business card, which he offered to Gabe. “Call me if you change your mind.”

Chapter Six
    Outside the shop, Gabe stood on the sidewalk looking at the card.
LeBarron Antiques and Collectibles,
it said, in two lines of flowery script that you could feel when you ran your finger over it, underneath which was the name Cecil LeBarron, in a plain font, and right at the bottom, in that same font but smaller, the address, phone number and website.
    Gabe stuffed the card in his back pocket and went over to the bike. He was totally sure the bracelet was worth more than a hundred and fifty dollars. Way,
way
more. Had to be, or why had Mr Cecil LeBarron acted like he did? So the first thing he had to do was go straight back to the canyon and find out if there was any more to be dug up before anyone else came along and discovered the skeleton. Second thing: do some proper research.
    He’d dialled in the four-digit code for the bike lock, and was wrapping the bracelet in the