"Put it in your pocket," he said. "It's all junk. What did you think I could do with it? Keep the handkerchief. Fair trade for the drink."
He picked up his shot and tossed it down, took a short sip from the water chaser and then wiped his thick lips with the back of his hand.
"My God, Fats," Ray said. "You trying to tell me that isn't even a diamond in that ring? I know the other stuff is costume jewelry, but—" He did know it now.
"Sure it's a diamond. What a diamond. Got a flaw in it you could crawl inside, and it's a cheater cut, thin like a poker chip."
"You mean it's not worth anything?"
Fats Davis shrugged. "Maybe fifty bucks, mounting and all. It's not too bad a mounting."
Ray Fleck was stunned, but he didn't doubt that Fats was telling the truth. Of course Dolly, smart little bitch that she was, wouldn't keep anything valuable right on top of her dresser where any man who visited her could swipe it—as easily as he had. If she owned anything valuable in the way of jewelry she'd at least keep it out of sight and probably locked up at that.
Well, anyway, fifty bucks would again put him in shape to sit in on the poker. He sighed. "Okay, Fats. I'll settle for fifty bucks."
Fats shook his head. "Huh-uh. I don't want it. I said the ring might be worth that—but I don't mess with peanut stuff. You take as much risk and don't make anything."
"What risk?" Ray asked. "Damn it, Fats, I didn't steal this stuff. It's mine." He realized that sounded silly. "My wife's, I mean, but this is a community property state and that makes it mine too."