"I bet you were sorry to get robbed of the necklace. It looked expensive."

"I wish I never saw that necklace. Look what it got me… a shot-up foot."

"I think it's an interesting story. It could probably even be a movie."

"You think?" Cramp poured himself more Jack. "Yeah, I guess it could make a movie."

Okay I had him. He wasn't a smart guy and he was a little drunk, and it was going to be easy to get him rolling on an ego trip.

"Who hocked the necklace?" I asked Cramp. "Was it someone glamorous?"

"Well, not movie-star glamorous, but she was okay. In her twenties. Big bazoos. Sort of rat's-nest hair, but when you got bazoos like that it don't matter, right? That's why I remember her. I'm not good with names, but I remember a good rack."

Charming.

"Anyway it was the same story I hear every day," Cramp said. "She got the necklace from her boyfriend. Her boyfriend turned out to be a jerk. She wants some money for the necklace."

Cramp tossed his Jack down his throat. Glug, glug, glug. This could explain his embalmed appearance.

"Keep going," I said. "I want to hear the rest of the story."

"Sure," he said. "I never thought much about it, but it's a pretty good story. And it gets even better. I hock the piece for Ms. Big Boobs, and a couple weeks down the road this guy comes in and wants the necklace. He's got the claim ticket. I ask him what happened to the girl with the hooters, and he says I should shut my pie hole and give him the necklace.

"Now here's where it gets good. This is the part that would be good for the movie. Almost all the jewelry in the shop is fake. I got a guy who fences the stuff when it comes in and makes me paste. It's a win-win deal for me, right? I get the money from the fence, and then I either sell the paste to a customer, or the idiot who hocked it in the first place buys it back. Most of the time people can't even tell it's fake. And if they suspect it's fake, they're too embarrassed to do anything about it. Pretty smart, hunh? I thought of it all by myself."

"Wow," I said. "Cool."

"Yeah. So anyway, this guy is standing in front of me with the claim ticket for the necklace, and all of a sudden I recognize him. It's Lou Delvina. He's the jerk boyfriend! I mean, Lou Delvina. Jesus. Do you know who Lou Delvina is?"

"I've heard of him," I said to Cramp.

Everyone in Trenton knew Lou Delvina. For twenty years, he was a shooter for the north Jersey mob, and then he got his own real estate and moved into the Trenton area. He wasn't big-time, but he made the most of what he had. I'd heard stories about Delvina, and none of the stories was good. Delvina was a very scary guy.