The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (9 page)

It was a great save, but just a moment too late. Randolph didn’t rebound as I’d expected. Instead, he seemed to deflate. He sat, staring at the wall in front of him. “I don’t know what to do.”

Delilah got to her feet, stepped forward and enveloped him in a hug. “You need to rest. Tell these ladies that you will think about it and get back to them.”

“But isn’t it urgent?”

“Urgent? I don’t think so.”

“But Delilah, my darling, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

She said gently, “Gramps, you should know that that’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“It is?”

Karen said, “But it truly is quite a unique opportunity. Perhaps not once in a lifetime, but it will work beautifully for everyone. Please don’t think we’re trying to pressure you to get a quick sale. This collector is very skittish and inclined to change his mind. He’ll assume that any delay is a sign that the purchaser doesn’t care enough. If this is something you’ve been wanting, I’d suggest that you not take too long.”

She took a breath and I took that opportunity to jump in. “Why don’t you stay here and finish your tea with Randolph and I’ll just dash to the shop and get the Hemingway. That way you can socialize and I’ll be back in no time.”

Karen bit her lip. “Great idea, except you’ll never find it. It’s the most valuable item in my possession and I have it stashed in a place you’ll never be able to locate.” She smiled ruefully at Randolph. “After you have a couple of break-ins you learn to be really cautious.”

Mason got to his feet. “Here’s my idea. Time to hit the road. Don’t call us. We’ll call you. Gramps, they’re going. Say good-bye.”

Randolph merely slumped in his chair, fingering his lap blanket and muttering confused and nonsensical sounds.

No help there.

• • •

SECONDS LATER WE
were standing on the walkway. Worse, we were now even further away from repatriating the Sayers collection than we had been.

“What was that all about?” Karen said.

“You got me. Those were very strange people.”

“They certainly were secretive.”

“Very secretive.” I knew all about secretive. As a Kelly relative, I grew up steeped in it. No little friends invited home. No sleepovers. No birthday guests who weren’t uncles. My uncles might have been willing to wear party hats, bake birthday cakes with wax paper–wrapped dimes and put together highly unusual loot bags, but they were definitely paranoid. We lived by the old line, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. That I understood and accepted. They had their reasons. I felt that same vibe there in the beautiful Craftsman house, a gorgeous home, but without the heartwarming eccentricity of my uncles. Despite three generations of attractive people, it had felt stark and unloved. I told myself I was just being silly and my reasons probably had more to do with house envy than fact. But still, I was pretty sure the Adams family had secrets they wanted to keep from us. But what could they be?

“And poor Randolph is obviously starting to lose his marbles,” Karen said, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Not that I’m anyone to talk.”

“Did he seem worse to you than when you first met him?”

“Yes. Well, of course, you are asking me.” She tapped her head and grimaced.

I had an idea. And it wasn’t a nice one. “Randolph is obviously a man of means.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Well, the mother and the son are very defensive. Do you think there’s any chance they’re controlling him for his money?”

“Something was wrong,” Karen agreed.

“Maybe Randolph’s not really the grandfather. It wouldn’t be the first time some sharp operators got control over a vulnerable and well-off older person. They certainly want to keep him from meeting people and from talking to us. Did you notice that he became much more docile after the tea was served? Then lapsed into . . . whatever that was.”

She nodded. “I did notice.”

“Perhaps there was some kind of sedative in his tea.”

“Wouldn’t we have gotten it too? Oh, right, there could have been something in his cup. Delilah set up the cups in the kitchen and then managed who got what. I think you’re right, Jordan.”

“And you know what else? I’m beginning to wonder if maybe the security is to keep Randolph in just as much as it is to keep other people out.”

Karen nodded. “I have to agree. And I must say I’ve had warmer welcomes in my life. I can see why no one visits this house.”

“Exactly. There’s something going on. Even so, we have to find a way to get back there with the Hemingway. We should do that as soon as possible.”

“You’re right, of course. I wish I could have convinced them to swap for the Wilkie Collins. I think I’d make a bit more on the Hemingway.”

“It doesn’t seem right that you have to trade something that valuable for this, Karen. After all, you didn’t
steal
the Sayers.”

“To tell the truth, I got a real deal on the Collins and the Hemingway. They came from one of those estate sales where no one in the family realized the value of any of the books. They couldn’t wait to sell Dad’s junky old novels to the sucker. They thought they were taking this little old lady to the cleaners when they demanded twenty-five dollars, practically laughing up their sleeves. The Hemingway’s worth about eight thousand. It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I hit the jackpot.”

“Even so, that’s your livelihood and—”

She held up her hand. “I don’t want to argue about it, Jordan. I need to trade something of value to Randolph because I have finally admitted to myself that I must have known at some level that those Sayers were too good to be true.”

“How could you have known?”

“Dealers have a sixth sense. Don’t tell me you never get a hunch about a guy that proves right.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you kidding? My track record with guys and hunches is really dismal. My last boyfriend maxed out my credit cards and cleaned out my bank account, which is why I am working for Vera instead of finishing grad school. So never count on me for that kind of insight. But back to my point, I’d like to find a way to ensure you’re not out of pocket on this exchange.”

Karen raised her small pointed chin and fixed me with a firm glance. “I have to contribute. I think it’s Karma for me in a way. You know I was playing a little too fast and loose with the provenance of some of the volumes that came to me from Vera’s collection. There’s nothing like a brush with death to make you rethink that kind of activity. From now on, it’s by the book all the way.”

“So to speak,” I said with a grin.

Even though Karen’s income was precarious after her devastating injury, it all made sense. I could understand the desire to make amends. It worked to my advantage, as I needed to get the Sayers volumes back for Vera if I was to keep my job—I couldn’t steal them and remain the only member of my family to go straight—and Karen’s donation to the cause was going to make all the difference.

Still, it seemed to me that we had just struck out with our best shot at getting them back. And to make matters worse, while we had been standing and talking on the sidewalk, it had started to pour rain. As I fumbled with the key to the Cozy Corpse van, I imagined Delilah and Mason enjoying us getting that drowned-rat look that suits so few people.

“So how did that go?”

As Karen eased herself into the passenger seat, I whirled to face the neighbor, Harry Yerxa. He was holding a large plaid umbrella.

“I thought you might get wet, so I’ll walk you to your side of the van.” He leaned in to say to Karen, “I’m sorry I wasn’t a bit faster. You both look half drowned.”

“We are very wet,” I said, “and it went horribly if you must know.”

“I’m not at all surprised,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. “I told you they were very odd people.”

I felt like snapping at him, but he was accompanying me to my side of the van and that umbrella kept me from drowning. I looked down and mourned my lovely pointy-toed black patent stilettos that had finally come back in style. I hoped I could save them. Harry had taken the time to get the umbrella but not to change his footwear. The socks in his sandals were sodden.

I said, “Thank you. I’m sorry you’re getting soaked on our account. We appreciate it.”

“Just being neighborly,” Harry said. Of course he could hardly have said, “Just being nosy.”

“The Adams family could take lessons. I hope they’re a bit more receptive to other visitors.”

“What other visitors?”

“Anyone who comes by.”

Harry shook his tweed-topped head. “There are no other visitors. You’re the first people I’ve ever seen here since they first moved in. And not much gets by me.”

There was no arguing with that.

“None? Nobody at all? Really?” He had missed Karen’s delivery of the Sayers collection. And what else?

“That’s right. You’re the first. In two years and eleven months.”

“What?”

“Two years, eleven months and seventeen days actually. I was thinking about that, and they moved in on my wife’s birthday exactly one year after she died. At the time, I thought it was a bit of good luck to have new neighbors and a man about my own age. But they never even answered the door when I brought them some cookies. I’ve given up. I was surprised you got through the door to tell the truth.”

I didn’t mention that wouldn’t have happened without the old foot-in-the-door trick.

“We’ll see you in a bit,” I said. “We’re coming back with something for Randolph.”

“And you think you’ll get back in again.”

“Sure hope so,” I said as I left the shelter of the umbrella and hopped into the van. I didn’t mention that we’d been as good as booted out. I just wished I felt as confident as I sounded.

• • •

FIVE MINUTES LATER,
we were idling at a crosswalk as a gazillion high school students ambled across the street. I must have stared at them a bit too long, because Karen patted my shoulder.

“We’re not giving up. Don’t let him intimidate you.”

Who was intimidated? Kellys don’t get intimidated. Even when they should.

“Looking at these kids reminds me that something about that Mason is really bugging me.”

“What?”

“Something kind of weird about him, not in a nerdy way, but just . . . off.”

“Off? Well, a lot of kids seem off to me. School is so much for them now. I don’t know how they can manage those packs. I bet some of them weigh seventy pounds.”

“Wait! That’s it.”

“What?”

“A backpack. Mason didn’t have one. And he had no laptop, no phone, no gaming stuff.”

“Right. Well, maybe not every kid has that stuff.”

“But every kid has some kind of stuff. Kids today have accessory overload. Face it. He was wearing expensive clothing and two-hundred-dollar boots, so it’s not a lack of money.”

“Well, maybe he wasn’t coming from school. Maybe he had an appointment or something. Oh. You’re right. He said that it went okay. I don’t know why I’m arguing with you, Jordan.”

“They wanted us to think he’d come from school. Delilah asked how school was. So why wouldn’t he be in school?”

“Playing hooky,” Karen said. “Don’t tell me you never did that, Jordan.”

“Not me. You couldn’t keep me from school. I loved it. But maybe Mason doesn’t go to school.”

“You mean he’s homeschooled? Lots of people do that now. And he did seem kind of different.”

“Well, it could explain that weird, ‘I was not socialized properly’ vibe I got from him, but I doubt it. I think he’d be much better behaved if he was homeschooled. And the parents who homeschool their kids are proud of it. They don’t pretend their children go to regular schools.”

“Well, he’s old enough that he could drop out, I suppose. Maybe she’s ashamed?”

“Something’s wrong and we’d better swap that Hemingway for the Sayers on the double. I’m not going to let Mason scare us off. But I bet they’ll try to keep Randolph away from us. And it might take more than a foot in the door to get in this time.”

She said, “Do you think Randolph’s in danger?”

“I have a strong feeling about it.”

Karen hesitated. “But he came to the book fair. Does that make sense if they were keeping him prisoner?”

It was my turn to hesitate. “You heard what Delilah told Mason. He got away. It wasn’t planned or authorized. We have to get to the bottom of it,” I said as we pulled the van into the driveway of the Cozy Corpse.

“Agreed. Well, we’re here now. I’ll get the Hemingway.”

“Let me go inside first and get you an umbrella.”

“Are you kidding? I’m already drenched! No point in you getting any wetter.”

“I’m wet too. Harry’s umbrella was too little too late.”

“However, I can change clothing.”

“Don’t you need a hand?”

“No,” Karen said. “Once I have my walker, I do not. But thanks.”

“But the stairs . . .”