The Violin Scam
12 Jan 2021JB Threepwood
I sat on the bed, beer in hand. I had my Comms Unit out and was searching through news broadcasts.I was born in the Rapa Bao System, but it must have been nearly 13 years since I'd been anywhere even near the place... ever since the big fallout with my old gang... where I was shot to shit and left for dead.
But that didn't stop me from wanting to check up on the place from time to time.
As I flicked through the articles I felt my heart drop. Before the gang promoted me to Off-Planet Piracy, I had been working for an old grifter called Rocco. Sadly, as I read further on, Rocco had been found dead.
With my dad dead, and my mom's boyfriends being a collection of bullies and arseholes, I realise now that I used to lock on to any strong, older male to fill that "father figure" role. Rocco was no different.
I'd met him when I was about 14 and learnt pickpocketing, sleight of hand stuff, the basics... but he started getting me involved in all sorts of scams. He taught me the likes of "The Spanish Prisoner" to "Jam Auctions" and everything in between.
I was a good lookin' kid before I got myself all shot up. Which went in my favour. People don't trust ugly people, it's just human nature.
Rocco taught me manners, how to behave properly around people to gain their trust. How to read and manipulate people. It's a skill-set I still utilise in my life now as a negotiator for Jamaica Inn Movement.
But Rocco? He knew all the games. The old son of a bitch was so crooked he could swallow a nail and shit out a corkscrew. Still... he knew the life inside out and was damned good at it.
I thought back to one of our last grifts together before the gang promoted me to piracy work off station. I would've been about 18 at the time. Rocco and I had done this scam time and again and had the routine down solid.
******
I walked in to the restaurant, "The Ivy Bush." Not a huge place, small enough to only have two waiters and fancy enough for them to look down their noses at their clientele. I was dressed smartish, but not in expensive clothes.
"Hi," I said to the waiter, "I've got a 6 o'clock table under Lockwood."
The waiter looked at his little screen and guided me to a small table by the bar.
"I was hoping my Father would already be here," I said to the waiter, who feigned interest. "He's been working away for the last few years and he said he was flying in to catch-up." The waiter just looked at my excited smile.
"Can I get you a drink whilst you wait, sir?" the waiter asked.
"Two beers, please, he should be here soon."
He wouldn't be... I drank the two beers then ordered and drank two more whilst I "waited".
I paced the story over an hour, slowly getting more and more visibly upset as the hour progressed. The waiter occasionally checked on me, each time I'd straighten myself up and acted as though I was fine.
After the hour passed I watched as Rocco, sat at the next table, asked for his bill. He paid it then, once the waiter left, he started on the last part of his glass of wine. I signalled the waiter over.
"I... I don't think he's coming... may I have the bill?"
The waiter, obviously pissed off that he'd only be getting a small tip from 4 beers and a table wasted for an hour, printed the bill and passed it to me. I patted my pockets and then looked up at him, horrified!
"This was supposed to be my father's treat," I blurted, looking as hopeless as I could. "I didn't think to bring money. My hotel's next door... I can go grab my Comms device?"
"Well, sir, we can't just..."
I started emptying my pockets onto the table, to the embarrassment of the waiter... there was a silver lighter, a packet of cigarettes and a silver harmonica. All more than the cost of several beers.
"Please," I said standing up and patting more pockets, "I'll be right back."
As more eyes raised from their meals to see what was going on, the waiter became more uncomfortable. Looking down at my belongings, the waiter nodded.
"Of course, sir," the waiter managed through gritted teeth. "Please hurry, there are customers waiting for the table."
I thanked the waiter and dashed out of the door.
Once outside, and safely in a dark alley, I looked back through the window of the restaurant to see Rocco's part of the scam. Even though I couldn't hear them I knew the scam well enough to read their lips.
"Excuse me," said Rocco to the waiter as he was getting up to leave. "I couldn't help notice what just happened... may I see that harmonica?"
"Erm, that's another customer's sir," he said, embarrassed. Rocco ignored him and picked the harmonica up.
"Amazing," announced Rocco as he held it up to the light and examined it. "Yes... yes... you see?" Rocco tilted the harmonica towards the waiter. "I thought it was one the moment I saw it but, yes, you see? TBR... engraved on the top?"
It was engraved but we'd done that ourselves. The waiter craned forward to see.
"Tupelo Beau Rippy," Rocco announced, "One of his concert harmonicas... very rare."
Rare. We both noticed it. That was the word that hooked the waiter.
"Yes?" the waiter interjected.
"Yes!" Rocco confirmed. "Is the young man who owns this due back soon? I'd like to make an offer to him."
"An offer?" asked the waiter, trying not to act too interested.
"Yes. 20 thousand... though, between you and me, I'd be looking to sell it on to a collector for twice the amount.
I watched for a while as Rocco acted more anxious... this was the part where he'd say he was late for a show that would be starting soon. Rocco passed the waiter his business card asking him to give it to me as soon as I got back as he was desperate to get his hands on the harmonica.
Once I was sure that Rocco had been gone long enough I jogged up to the restaurant, Comms Device in hand.
"So sorry about that," I panted to the waiter as I scanned and paid the bill. As I was putting my possessions back into my pockets I heard the waiter start to speak.
"That's an interesting harmonica you have there," declared the waiter as I saw him slip Rocco's card into his pocket.
"Thanks, yeah, I've got a couple but this is a flashy one... I was going to show my dad that I'd learnt to play..." I let the sentence drift off.
"My... erm... son wanted to take up the harmonica and that looks like a nice one. Maybe I could buy it off you? Maybe 100 credits?"
Hooked the greedy bastard. I knew exactly how this was going to play out... the same way it had played out a hundred times before.
The very least he thought he'd get would be 20k off Rocco's instrument dealer persona... potentially 40k if he searched for a buyer himself.
I got the mark up to 7k, which he paid over to my burner Comms Device. With him thinking he'd stitched me up, he waved me off as I went about my evening.
I met up with Rocco at his apartment for The Chop. I took a share, Rocco took a share and we put some aside for when we'd have to pay our Tribute to the gang.
******
I re-read the article about Rocco's death.
"Rest In Peace, mate," I toasted as I took a swig of my beer.