The Golden Gift: Part 4

 When Crispin got back to the office, Smasher was talking to some potential clients, showing off some boards and trying to convince them to invest in one of them. Crispin has been around long enough to know that Smasher was telling these kids that surfing was the greatest rush a person could achieve, and that to connect with the ocean was a religious experience. He knew the pitch word for word and could recite it if he cared enough to pitch it to a potential customer, but he never did. Smasher knows the waves, and he wouldn't even pretend to have any idea what it was like to paddle out there and take on mother nature himself. Crispin went straight to his office, set up the VCR, and started to play the first tape Artie had given him. Thankfully Crispin didn't have to watch it in real time, as he could fast forward whenever Artie was all by his lonesome, only watching whenever a customer came into the picture. He had been watching for a few hours when Smasher showed up with supper.

 "Here man," Smasher said, passing him a bag with a chicken burger and fries. "I know you're super busy, so I got the usual."

 "Cheers," Crispin said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

 "What are you looking for?" Smasher asked.

 "I found where the jewels were pawned," Crispin replied, "These are the security tapes made the day they were sold. I'm looking for our thief. Once I have both answers, I can give the information to Mrs. Jones and let her decide what to do from there."

 "Ugh, one of those cases," Smasher said, as he hated watching security video. "I'll leave you to it then."

 "Thanks man," Crispin said as he never stopped watching as his friend left.

 Crispin has no trouble wolfing down his food as he kept watching the relevant parts of the videos, skipping to each customer who came in to do business. About an hour after supper, the truth finally revealed itself to the private investigator. Crispin paused the screen when the kid's face came into view and stopped the feed.

 "Son of a bitch," Crispin cussed to himself, as the identity of the young man in the video was quite clear. It was William, Mrs. Jones' son. He sold her jewelry to Artie, just as her mother had feared. The only question that had yet to be answered was what William needed the money for and where he eventually spent it. Mrs. Jones expressed fears about that as well, as her son's drug history made for a quick assumptions. Crispin wasn't in the mood to make assumptions, so he put his shoes and coat on and proceeded to leave the office.

 "Where are you going?" Smasher asked. "Closing up already?"

 "Not quite," Crispin said, "I'm going to be out late, so I don't know if I can open up tomorrow."

 "Bummer, but I understand." Smasher said, "Don't make a habit of it."

 "I'll try not to," Crispin said, as he made his exit.

 Being a private investigator on a small island meant that after so much time you pretty much get to know everyone, and that included the bad people you'd rather not associate with, like drug dealers. Despite his angst for them, Crispin decided to visit every dealer that night, as Mrs. Jones failed to inform him what substance her son preferred to use whenever he relapsed. There wasn't too many of them to look up, so Crispin just started knocking on doors. Each time he would repeat that he was only looking for someone and that his investigation wasn't about their operation, and that made most of them co-operative. He had some lengthy, friendly conversations with some of the dealers, and when the time was right, he'd show them Willy's picture and ask them if he had purchased anything from them. To Crispin's surprise, none of the dealers could remember seeing or selling anything to the young man. They all repeated the same story, they would have remember selling anything to someone that high class. Crispin felt like his case was hitting a brick wall, but there was a chance that William hadn't fallen off the wagon just yet, with yet being the key word.

 "I need you to do me a favor," Crispin said to the dealer he was speaking with.

 "What's that, homes?" the dealer said.

 "If this kid does show up," Crispin said, showing the pic again. "Call me and let me speak to him first. There might something in it for you."

 "Sounds dope," The dealer said, "Leave your card and we'll keep an eye out."

 Crispin had been out all-night chatting shop with every dealer on the island to the point where the sun was up, and Smasher had already opened shop by the time he was finished. Rather than head for bed, Crispin chose to grab some ice coffees and go back to the office instead. He could sleep on the couch and wake up if any clients walked in, rather than be at home and lose potential business. Smasher could see the look on his friend's face as he walked in with the cold brews.

 "Whoa, dude." Smasher called out, "You were out all-night?"

 "I was," Crispin confirmed, putting the drinks on the table and grabbing his own and taking a long sip. "And it was a colossal waste of my time. Not a single drug dealer saw the kid I was looking for. Meaning he didn't buy any drugs or there's a new dealer in this town that I'm not aware of. Either way I'm going to need to keep looking so that I can get a clear answer for my client."

 Crispin slapped William's picture down on the table with the other photos of the jewels in frustration and took another swig of cold brew. Smasher walked up to get his own cup when he stopped and looked at the picture. Crispin happened to notice his change of demeanor.

 "What is it?" Crispin asked.

 "That's Willy!" Smasher said, "You're looking for Willy?"

 "His name is William," Crispin said, "And yes, he's the one I'm looking for."

 "He's a good kid," Smasher said, rather casually.

 "Hold on, you know him?" Crispin asked.

 "Yeah, I do." Smasher.

 "How??" Crispin demanded.