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ideas?”
    â€œMaybe. The prize issues aren’t the only stamps missing. There’s another twenty or thirty thousand in value gone from the store inventory. Common issues he can unload pretty easily, get himself some money to tide him over.”
    â€œWell, isn’t he a greedy little bastard,” Stewart said, an edge of helpless anger in his voice.
    â€œI put out a few feelers on the loop, asking if there’s anyaction out there with the low-cost issues. I’m keeping quiet on the high-value ones for now.”
    â€œSmart thinking.”
    â€œIf it is, it’s the first smart thing I’ve done since Grampa left.”
    He sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up, Gwen. There’s no point. The thing to focus on is getting them back. I’ll tell you what, e-mail me a list of everything that’s gone. I’ll make a couple of quiet phone calls to a few people I trust, just to see if they’ve heard any word of some of the issues coming on the market.”
    â€œAs soon as we hang up,” she promised, reaching over to switch on her computer. “And Stewart?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œThanks. I feel a lot better knowing we’ve got some help.”
    â€œIt’s going to be okay, Gwen. Trust me on this.”
    And for a moment, as Gwen hung up the phone, she felt as if it actually would be.
    Joss stared at her as Gwen logged on to the Internet. “So, what did he say?”
    â€œHe’s going to ask around, see if anything’s surfacing.” Gwen sent Stewart the file she and Joss had compiled earlier.
    â€œIs he going to tell people why he’s asking?”
    â€œStewart understands the situation. He’ll keep the theft quiet.”
    Joss rose to pace around the office. “You know, I’m surprised. I would have picked you for the first one to run to the cops.”
    â€œNormally I would have been,” Gwen told her, clicking on her e-mail in-box. “These are different circumstances.” She scanned the contents of the messages that popped up in her preview pane. “I just don’t want to blow—” The thought evaporated from her brain as she stared at the words on-screen.
    Joss crowded up behind her. “Did you get something?”
    It took her a couple of tries to speak. “It’s a dealer. He just bought a Ben Franklin, same perf, very good condition. It sounds like one of ours.”
    â€œWell, call him.”
    â€œI am.” Gwen scrolled down, searching for the contact signature at the bottom of the e-mail. And then suddenly she was yanking open the desk drawer and pulling out her purse.
    â€œWhat? Where is he?”
    â€œLas Vegas.” The blood roared in Gwen’s ears as she pulled out the matchbook and compared it to the numbers on-screen. “It’s the same area code as where Rennie is.”
    Joss’s gaze took on a particular stillness. “Call it,” she ordered, her voice barely audible.
    Hands shaking, Gwen dialed the number and listened to the tones of a phone ringing hundreds of miles away.
    â€œVersailles Resort and Casino,” an operator answered crisply.
    Gwen resisted the urge to cross her fingers. It couldn’t just be coincidence the stamp had surfaced there, it couldn’t. “Jerry Messner, please.” She crossed her fingers. All she needed was a chance.
    There was a clicking noise in the background. “How was that spelled, please?”
    Gwen told her.
    The keys clicked some more. “One moment, I’ll connect you.”
    And the line began to ring. Gwen banged down the handset hastily and stared at Joss. “He’s there.”

3
    L IGHT, COLOR, NOISE . S LOT machines chattered and jingled in the background as Gwen walked through the extravagance that was the Versailles Resort and Casino.
    â€œYou want to tell me what I’m doing here again?” she asked Joss over her cell phone as she walked across the plush