I briefly explained the theft to Mr Levine. He pursed his lips, listened attentively, and then checked out my story by going over to the glass case of shotguns to prove to himself that the gift counter was reflected perfectly in the polished surface.
“Would you be willing, Mr—?”
“Goranovsky.”
“Would you be willing, Mr Goranovsky, to appear in court as a witness to this shoplifting? Providing, of course, that such is the case.”
“What do you mean, if such is the case? I told you I saw him take it. All you have to do is search him, and if you find the lighter in his raincoat – in the right-hand pocket – the case is cut and dried.”
“Not exactly, sir. It isn’t quite that simple.” He turned to the clerk, whose eyes were bright with excitement, and lowered his voice. “Call Mr Sileo, and ask him to join us here.”
The clerk left, and Mr Levine steepled his fingers. “Mr Sileo is our security officer,” he explained. “I don’t want you to think that we don’t appreciate your reporting this matter, Mr Goranovsky, because we do, but Gwynn’s can’t afford to make a false accusation. As you said, there was no clerk in the vicinity at the time, and it’s quite possible that the gentleman might have gone off to search for one.”
I snorted in disgust. “Sure, and if he can’t find one on the second floor, maybe he’ll find one on the third.”
“It’s possible,” he said seriously, ignoring my tone of voice. “Legally, you see, no theft is involved unless he actually leaves the store without paying for the item. He can still pay for the lighter, or put it back on the counter before he leaves.”
“Sure, I see. Why not forget the whole thing? I’m sorry I brought the matter up.”
“No, please. I merely wanted to explain the technical points. We’ll need your cooperation, and it’s Mr Gwynn’s policy to prosecute shoplifters; but you can’t make charges without an airtight case and a reliable witness. If we arrest him within the store, all the man has to say is that he was looking for a clerk, and there isn’t anything we can do about it. He very well may be looking for a clerk. If such is the case, we could very easily lose the goodwill of a valuable customer.”
“I understand; I’m a businessman myself. In fact, I hope I’m wrong. But if I’m not, you can count on me to appear in court, Mr Levine. I’ve gone this far.”
We were joined by Mr Sileo. He was slight, dark, and businesslike. He looked more like a bank executive than a detective, and I had a hunch that he had an important job of some kind with Gwynn’s, that he merely doubled as a security officer. In a businesslike manner, he quickly and quietly took charge of the situation.
I was directed to stand by the elevators and to point out the thief when he came down. Mr Levine was stationed in the center aisle, and Mr Sileo took up his post by the Main Street entrance. If, by chance, the shoplifter turned right after leaving the elevator – toward the side exit to 37th Street – Mr Levine could follow him out, and Mr Sileo could dart out the main door and circle around the corner to meet the man outside on 37th Street. Mr Sileo explained the plan so smoothly, I supposed it was some kind of standing procedure they had used effectively before. The eager young clerk, much to his disgust, was sent back to work by Mr Levine, but he wasn’t needed.
To my surprise, when I looked at my watch, only ten minutes had passed since I reported the theft. The next ten minutes were much longer as I waited by the elevators for the man in the green raincoat to reappear. He didn’t look at me as he got off, and I pointed him out by holding my arm above my head, as Mr Sileo had directed, and then trailed the man down the wide corridor at a safe distance. I wondered if he had a gun, and at this alarming thought I dropped back a little farther, letting Mr Levine get well ahead of me. Mr Sileo, who had picked up my signal, went out the front door as soon as it became apparent that the man was going to use the Main Street exit. I could see Mr Sileo through the glass door as he stood on the front sidewalk; he was pretending to fumble a cigarette out of his pack. A moment later, just about the time I reluctantly reached the Main Street doorway myself, Mr Levine and Mr Sileo were escorting the big man back inside the store.
I couldn’t understand the man’s attitude; he was smiling. He had a huge nose, crisscrossed with prominent blood veins, and he had a large mouth, too, which probably looked bigger than it was because of several missing teeth.
The four of us moved silently down the right side aisle a short distance to avoid blocking the doorway. For a strained moment nobody said anything.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mr Sileo said flatly, but pleasantly, “but this gentleman claims that you took a desk lighter off the counter and put it into your pocket without paying for it.”
I resented the offhand way Mr Sileo had shifted all of the responsibility onto me. The big man shrugged and, if anything, his genial smile widened, but his bluish white eyes weren’t smiling as he looked at me. They were as cold and hard as glass marbles.
“Is that right?” He chuckled deep in his throat. “Is this the lighter you mean?” He took the chrome-plated knight out of his raincoat pocket.
“Yes,” I said grimly, “that’s the one.”
He unbuttoned his raincoat and, after transferring the lighter to his left hand, dug into his pants pocket with his right.
“This,” he said, handing a slip of paper to Mr Sileo, “is my receipt for it.”
Mr Sileo examined the receipt and then passed it to Mr Levine. The floor manager shot me a coldly furious look and returned the slip of paper to the man. The thief reached into his inside jacket pocket for his checkbook. “If you like,” he said, “you can look at the checkstub, as well.”
Mr Sileo shook his head, and held his hands back to avoid taking the checkbook. “No, sir, that’s quite all right, sir,” he said apologetically.
Mr Levine made some effusive apologies for the store which I thought, under the circumstances, were uncalled for – but the big man cut him off in the middle of a long sentence.
“No harm done,” he said good-naturedly, “none at all. In your place, I’d have checked, too. In all probability,” he qualified his remark.
“It was my mistake,” I said, finally. “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced.” And then, when neither Mr Levine nor Mr Sileo said anything to me, and the big man just stood there – grinning – I turned on my heel and left the store, resolving, then and there, never to spend another dime in Gwynn’s as long as I lived.
There had been no mistake. I had seen the man take the lighter, and there had been no clerks anywhere near us at the time. I stood beside my car at the curb, filled with frustration as I ran things all over again in my mind. A trick of some kind had been pulled on the three of us, but how the man had worked it was beyond my comprehension. I opened the door on the sidewalk side and slid across the seat. As I fastened my seat belt, a meaty hand opened the door and the big man in the green raincoat grinned in at me. He held out the shining knight for my inspection.
“Want to buy a nice table lighter, buddy?” he said, chuckling deep in his throat. I can let you have it without any tax.”
I swallowed twice before I replied. “I knew you stole the lighter, but how did you get the receipt?”
“Will you buy the lighter if I tell you?”
“No, damn you; I wouldn’t give you ten cents for it!”
“Okay, Mr Do-Gooder,” he said cheerfully, “I’ll tell you anyway. This morning there were several lighters on the counter, and I bought one of them at ten a.m. After stashing the first one in a safe place, I came back late this afternoon and got this one free. Unfortunately, you happened to see me pick it up. The receipt I got this morning, however, served me very well for the second. The store stays open until nine-thirty tonight, and I had planned to come back after dinner and get another one. So long as I took them one at a time, one receipt is as good as three, if you get my meaning. So the way I figure it, you ought to buy this one from me because I can’t come back tonight for my third lighter. You cost me some money, fella.”