THE CASE OF THE MURDEROUS NUMISMATIST

“Do you buy rare coins at a fair price?” she asked.

“What price I pay will beat any competitor’s, so help me God,” he swore.

“Well, then, I have six to sell. My dear father passed away and left me his collection. Before he went on to his reward, he told me which ones to part with if I fell onto hard times.”

“I won’t take advantage of you, miss,” he pledged. “Let’s see what you have.”

Gertie reached into her handbag and displayed the coins on the glass countertop.

“Hmm,” Smisky hummed, examining each one and replacing them into a row. “This one is worth five pounds to me, this one a little more, and the rest about ten pounds apiece – except this one,” he scowled, manipulating the counterfeit 1707 crown between his fingers, flipping it into the air with his thumb and forefinger, then catching it in the palm of his stubby right hand. “This one is worth nothing, not even face value,” he claimed.

“What in heaven’s name do you mean by that?” Gertie ejaculated, pretending to be stunned.

“It’s too heavy. It’s a replica, not the genuine article,” Smisky laughed.

“We’ll see about that,” Gertie snapped. “I’m taking it back, in fact all of them – I shan’t do business with a scoundrel.”

To read the complete article, see:
The Case of the Murderous Numismatist (2015) (https://fourthgarrideb.com/2018/09/22/the-case-of-the-murderous-numismatist-2015/)

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