The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (8 page)

A younger male slunk soundlessly into the room. He was a good-looking kid, with high cheekbones and a smoldering-anger thing going on. His royal moodiness was wearing 7 For All Mankind jeans, a faux distressed T-shirt and Blundstone boots. I thought it must be nice to be able to afford a two-hundred-dollar pair of pants before you could even vote. Delilah brightened at the sight of him, so I guess my opinion wasn’t universal.

“How was school today, Mason?”

“Okay,” he said, without much enthusiasm.

“Well, I’m glad you’re home,” Delilah said, in the unmistakable tone used by mothers everywhere. “Now I want you to keep an eye on things, while I make tea for these people.”

These people.
Ouch.

Without an argument, Mason sank into a chair and sat observing Karen and me. I guess we were the things that an eye needed to be kept on.

Mason’s reaction was a surprise. He didn’t even put up a pale show of resistance. What kind of teenager was this? But it was also a relief. At least she hadn’t asked him to make the tea while she stood guard. I couldn’t imagine drinking anything prepared by Mason.

Karen leaned forward and focused on Randolph. As he appeared not to remember anything of their previous meeting, she started from the beginning. “How are you enjoying the Sayers firsts?”

He blinked, then sat thinking. And thinking.

“You really like them, Gramps,” Mason said. “You’ve been groping them every night.” Mason’s voice came as a shock. It was silky and rich, a voice for an old-time matinee idol, rather than a contemporary teen. I guess he got Gramps’s vocal genes rather than his mother’s.

Randolph looked surprised, then pleased. “I do. I love them. Did you get them for me, Mason?”

What were we dealing with here? Severe memory loss? Some kind of brain disease? Whatever was going on with Randolph, it did explain Delilah’s concern. Maybe she was worried we would try to exploit him. Of course, that was exactly what we had in mind: getting the Sayers firsts back from him by whatever means necessary. Preferably but not necessarily legally in my case.

I wondered what kind of meds were so necessary that serious memory loss was a tolerable side effect.

“I am glad,” Karen purred, leaning forward and giving me the full wattage of her charming smile. “Because I have something even more appealing.”

I listened with admiration. She was transformed from the damaged, nervous invalid she’d become into a dealer using all the snake-charming skill at her disposal. Randolph Adams wasn’t much of a cobra, but he was staring at her, entranced.

“What is it?” he breathed.

“Something rare and valuable.”

His eyes glittered.

Karen said, “It has just come available, but the owner doesn’t want it on the open market.”

“Why not?” The smooth, seductive voice of Mason caused us to turn our heads. I was more surprised by the undercurrent of suspicion in his voice than by the question.

Karen is used to questions from left field. She didn’t miss a beat. “The usual. He is overly invested emotionally in his entire collection.”

“Then why sell?” Mason wasn’t giving up.

Karen turned on her charming smile. “Because there is something he wants more, of course.”

Randolph interrupted. “Oh dear, I’ve already forgotten what he’s selling. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

Mason said, “It’s not you, Gramps. She hasn’t said what he’s selling. And she hasn’t said why she’s telling you this either. But don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

Randolph twinkled. “You are a dear boy, Mason, and I thank you, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about with these ladies.”

“You don’t,” Karen twinkled back.

What a pair of flirts. I decided to watch Mason. At least he wasn’t flirting, which would have been beyond creepy. I hoped he’d keep my mind off the interior of the house and on our mission. But it was all I could do to keep my eyes away from the glossy wooden staircase with the fine example of Craftsman banister. There was not a spot (aside from Mason and Randolph) that my glance could reach that didn’t spawn house lust. The exposed brick fireplace was not only flanked by a pair of polished bookcases, which were topped by Art Deco windows. Sigh. But back to Mason and not a moment too soon.

“And so what is it?” Mason said. He was leaning back in the leather armchair, languid and relaxed on the surface, but I could sense the tension underneath. Had Randolph been ripped off by unscrupulous—not that I would know anything about that—dealers in the past? Or was something else at work?

“What would you say to Wilkie Collins?”

I shot a glance at Randolph. Would his memory loss extend to this pioneer of the mystery world? But no, Randolph licked his lips. “Wilkie Collins. Tell me more.”

Karen’s eyes were shining. “A complete collection, short stories and all.”

“Really?”

“But only for the right person.”

“What makes the right person?” Mason broke in. “Gramps doesn’t have that much money.”

I doubted that, given the house, the high-end furnishings and the new Audi in the driveway, not to mention Mason’s wardrobe.

Karen said, “But he has the right attitude. He’d never break up the collection. He’d care for it and give it the respect it’s due.”

“That’s true,” Randolph said. “I love my books.”

“But what’s the catch?” Mason had a way of cutting to the most important point. I had to hand it to him. He might be creepy and unsettling, but he was sharp.

“There isn’t a catch, really,” Karen shot back. “The collector has something he wants in exchange.”

“What’s that?” breathed Randolph.

“Something I know you have. And something that we can all benefit from.” Karen gazed with affection into Randolph’s eyes. I loved watching the seductiveness of the encounter.

“Let me guess,” said Mason. “The Sayers collection?”

Karen barely managed to keep her lovely, seductive expression. This Mason was making it tricky to reel in Randolph.

“Not the Sayers!” Randolph said. “I love them. You just said so, Mason. And I remember.”

“Well,” Karen said. “I was trying to break it to you, gently. But you’re right. It is the Sayers. He’s been looking for just such a collection for years and just missed the chance to buy this one. He wants to make it worth your while.”

I heard a clattering sound from the kitchen and rose to see if I could help Delilah. I stuck my nose in and offered.

Before Delilah could answer me, Mason was right behind me. I could practically feel his breath on my neck.

Delilah’s eyes widened. “I’m fine,” she said abruptly.

“If you need help, I’m here,” Mason said, making him the weirdest adolescent in the world in my opinion.

I was convinced that Delilah’s hands were shaking as she picked up the tray containing an Art Deco silver teapot and white china cups with a black Greek key design.

Awkward didn’t quite cover how I felt scurrying before her to take my seat again.

Karen was saying, “And the Collins collection really is delicious.”

Mason snapped, “What’s in it for Gramps? He already has what he wants.”

The room went quiet.

Delilah poured the tea with grace and concentration, and the gesture seemed to relax her, just a bit. Karen and I both accepted our tea, milk in first, just the way we take it. Just for a moment, it felt like we were among friends. That moment didn’t extend to Mason.

“Yes,” Mason said, “and if the Collins collection is so great, why is this client of yours so happy to let it go?”

If this was Mason at eighteen or so, I couldn’t imagine him at forty. Look out.

Karen was ready for him. She placed her cup on the saucer on the table in front of her and said, “Because he has all the Collinses and multiples of most, and he’s more interested in having the complete Sayers than having two of each of the Collinses. You’re a collector, Randolph. You understand that.”

“I do,” he said. “But I like my Sayers. I like the way the characters speak and the life they lead. England. Wonderful!”

“I can certainly help you find them again. Easily. They’re lovely but not all that rare,” Karen said. “I’ll enjoy that hunt. You’d be ahead at the end of it. And please keep in mind that this deal helps everyone.”

“Speaking of finding, how did you find us?” Mason said.

Karen said, “How could I forget Randolph? I delivered the Sayers collection to this house in the spring. Delilah was here, but I suppose you must have been at school at the time.”

Mason shot a glance at his mother, who was now standing by. She wasn’t quite wringing her pale, limp hands, but I felt certain that she wanted to.

“I was here when they were delivered. Gramps managed to find his way to a book fair over in Grandville. He took a taxi,” she said. Mason scowled. I got the impression that Delilah had fallen down on the job and was going to get an earful when we left, even though Randolph’s escapade at the book fair was ancient history.

Delilah added, “He encountered this lady and one thing led to another.”

Karen laughed out loud. “It sounds a lot racier than it was. I was very happy to meet this new customer and even happier to find the Sayers collection and deliver it. I understand Randolph had been looking for a long time.”

Randolph chortled. Delilah looked horrified at this turn in the conversation. Mason seemed just as suspicious as ever. “You mean he just gave her the address?”

Delilah nodded. “He had it written down for the cab.”

You’d have thought that Karen had wheedled Randolph’s bank information out of him. It was just a street address. Pretty straightforward when you had a name.

What was wrong with these people?

I said, “Karen is a very reputable dealer. She’s been in business for many years and she’s well regarded by everyone. You don’t have anything to worry about. If you are concerned, please check around the book-collecting community.”

Randolph said, “Nothing to worry about at all. Don’t mind Delilah and Mason. They worry about everything and get their exercise leaping at shadows. I’m very glad you did find us. Now what were we talking about?” His handsome face was lit with excitement.

“Exchanging the Sayers collection for this amazing find,” Karen said quickly. “Before the opportunity evaporates.”

“What’s in it for you?” Mason interrupted.

“Mason. Manners!” Randolph said.

Karen took it in her stride. “Good question. What’s in it for me, besides the joy of connecting people with books they want and love? Well, course, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention there’s a small profit for me. I can’t eat books.” Her luminous smile softened the words.

“You shouldn’t have to, my dear.” Randolph reached out and squeezed her hand. “Bookselling is a time-honored profession. You deserve to have a comfortable living. I am filled with admiration.” I figured Karen would melt at the gesture and the words. This was one courtly old dude. I’d probably have stammered and blushed too if he’d squeezed my hand.

Karen pressed her advantage, as Randolph still held her hand. There was a bright pink spot on each of her cheeks. “So, can I tell my client it’s a deal? He’s eager to have his books find the right home.”

“Of course, my dear. Of course. It sounds like a splendid arrangement. Does it not, Delilah darling?”

Delilah had been biting her lip. “We need to think about it, don’t you agree, Gramps?” Now that I was sitting close to her and she wasn’t towering over me in her willowy way, I noticed the dark shadows under her eyes and the fine lines between her eyebrows and along her mouth. A fairy princess, yes, but one with a few problems.

There was just the hint of warning in Randolph’s lovely baritone. “I have already thought about it, my sweet.”

Mason just had to butt in. “She means think about it without all this pressure.”

Karen managed to look so hurt I wondered if she might have missed a career on the stage. I sat up and attempted to radiate the appearance of injured integrity.

Randolph said, “I don’t feel the slightest bit of pressure with these lovely ladies. So I say, let’s do it.”

Mason sneered. “It won’t be the first time you’ve been fooled, Gramps. But I hope it will be the last.”

Delilah straightened and seemed to find strength somewhere. “You love those Sayers. And you’ve never been interested in Wilkie Collins.”

A bit of confusion settled on Randolph’s handsome face. He sagged in his chair and let go of Karen’s hand. “I haven’t been interested in Collins?”

“Not in the least, and I advise you to decline, Gramps.”

“That’s true,” Mason said. “It’s not like it’s Hemingway.”

Delilah shot him a warning look.

“Hemingway!” Randolph perked up again.

Karen leaned in and picked up his hand. “Hemingway? I didn’t realize that was also an interest. Have I got a deal for you! The same dealer is hoping to find the perfect home for a pristine hardback copy of
The Old Man and the Sea
. There is even a signed postcard tipped in. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”