The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (10 page)

“I have to start taking care of myself,” she said firmly.

I sat in the van and shivered despite the heat blasting from the vents. Minutes later, I saw a sliver of light show on the edges of the small basement window on the side of the old brick building.

At least I knew where Karen most likely hid her more valuable items. She probably figured that most thieves wouldn’t get past the spiders, mice and general air of horror movie in the basement. Too much like work for the average crook, even with the key forgotten in the dead bolt. I thought back to the shelves where I got the logs and matches and the lack of dust in that area. A smart crook might figure out it was worth checking that out. As long as he wasn’t spooked by spiders.

While I waited for Karen, I used the time to call my uncles to engage a new accomplice for our Sayers recovery project. Uncle Mick was thrilled at the idea of having Uncle Kevin out of the house.

“Are you sure it’s no trouble?” I teased. “We could ask Uncle Lucky instead.”

“No! No trouble at all, my girl!”

“Really. Kevin must be tired.”

“He’s not. He’ll be thrilled.” I could just imagine Mick’s face getting fire-engine red. I really shouldn’t have been tormenting him. But cold, wet clothes bring out the worst in me.

“I hate to bother him.”

“Please, bother him. Lord knows he has it comin’.”

“Oh, fine. We need him to watch a house for us. There’s something very fishy about the family. I’m worried about the older man. We were threatened by the son and we were in the Cozy Corpse van, so it would be easy for that kid to find out where Karen lives. I don’t want to put Karen in any danger, but we need to make an important trade to get Vera’s Sayers books back.”

Uncle Mick’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Karen’s in danger?”

Uncle Lucky must have been in the room.

I said, “Oh, probably not. But there’s something a bit weird there and there’s no point in taking a chance.”

Uncle Mick said, “Huh.”

I took his point, because everyone in my family loves taking chances, including me.

“It would be better if we had some idea what they’re up to. I’d be able to cook up some plan to deal with them.”

Uncle Mick whispered, so I figured Lucky couldn’t be far off. “Maybe you shouldn’t be dealing with them. Have you thought of that?”

“We’re so close to recapturing those pilfered Sayers books. I’d like to hang on to my job and continue to save to get back to grad school. You know that.” I didn’t bother to threaten to move back into my space with my uncles. Uncle Kev was parked in my girlish quarters with no sign of moving on anytime soon, and Mick and Lucky would be thrilled to trade him for me. No questions asked.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Mick. Kev’s just for insurance. If for any reason we get in trouble, Kev can call out the cavalry. That would be you and Lucky.”

“Humph.”

“The sooner he gets there, the sooner we’re done. Thanks, Mick. Now do you know where he is?”

“Oh, I know where he is, all right.” I figured that meant too close for comfort and wearing out his welcome. Oh, Kev. When will you learn? Lucky and Mick are probably your last chance. Don’t burn that bridge.

“Great. Tell him to get back over to 87 Lincoln Way in Burton. He has to stay out of sight and watch for us to arrive. If we’re not out of the house in a half hour, he needs to do something dramatic.”

“Do you think I’m insane, my girl?”

“Right. Don’t tell him that. That could go very wrong. Hair set on fire. Bombs detonated. Okay, just tell him to call you. He respects you. He’ll listen.”

“I’ll make sure he follows instructions. You be careful, Jordan.”

I jumped when Karen knocked on the van window. She was holding an umbrella over her head and smiling.

She said, “I am so sorry, Jordan. I changed out of my wet clothes. I was just trying to be independent and I only now realized that you are sitting there, still soaking and probably freezing.”

“Both true, but for a good cause,” I said, trying to grin, although my teeth were chattering. My theory was that Karen hadn’t invited me in because she wanted to retrieve the Hemingway from its basement hiding place. We Kellys are not all that trusting either.

“Come on in. I have some warm, dry clothes for you. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier. You’ll look like your own grandmother in them, of course, instead of your normal beautiful self, but you’ll be comfortable. And it’s not like you care about impressing that crowd.”

“You got that right. Let’s get this over with.”

What could go wrong?

“O
NCE MORE INTO the breach,” Karen muttered as we parked in front of the Adamses’ house. At least we were no longer looking like drowned rodents, although my hair gave me a hamsterish look I wasn’t proud of. The Hemingway was wrapped in so many layers it could have sunk to the bottom of Lake George without getting wet. Under the worn brown slicker I had borrowed from Karen, I was wearing her tweed wool cardigan, paired with a cream turtleneck and a pair of brown pants that didn’t quite reach my ankles. Karen has red hair and brown suits her. It makes me look like I need medical attention, but even so, I was grateful to be warm and dry, and felt a bit guilty, as she was the one who needed taking care of.

We rang the bell and banged on the door of the house until our knuckles stung. There was no silver Audi in sight, although it could have been tucked in the garage. Worse, there was no answer. I observed light behind the drawn blinds and what sounded like low voices in conversation, but that could have been a television set.

I felt like smoking them out. My resolve to lead an honest life was very inconvenient at that moment. Fortunately, the civilized side of my nature prevailed and we gave up. We headed down the walkway and almost straight into Harry Yerxa. He said, “I see that they’re in there and they won’t answer the door. Now you know how I felt for nearly three years.”

At the same moment, an idea blossomed. “We do. It’s a horrible way to treat people.” I lowered my voice. “We think if we could just talk to the grandfather, things would be better. They seem to be sedating him or something.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. His eyes bugged. And I had him exactly where I wanted him.

“You mean they’re drugging him? But why?” For Harry, this would be better than watching
CSI
or
Law & Order
. His eyes glittered behind the oversized glasses.

You know that moment when you should just walk away from a bad situation? I had a keen sense for it, and this was that moment. But I didn’t walk away. It wasn’t only my recent obsession with Wimsey and his sleuthing or that my job and home depended on figuring out what was going on. There was also this little bit of Tiffany that had rubbed off on me. Randolph needed help, and you never turn your back on someone who needs help. Even if they triple bolt the door and turn the surveillance cameras on you.

Figuring that honesty might actually be the best policy and having nothing to lose, I blurted it out.

“Our best guess is that this mother and her son may have latched onto a suitable victim, maybe one with no close relatives to get suspicious and a fair amount of loot. They could be plundering his possessions and probably clearing out his bank accounts and investments while they’re at it.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard of that kind of thing.” His umbrella tipped as he turned to stare at the house. As he turned back, rivulets of water ran down his face and his tweed cap sagged damply. “But what makes you think that’s what’s happening?”

You would never know that Karen had suffered a brain injury the way she seamlessly entered the conversation. “We tried to exchange a very valuable book for a moderately valuable collection that we know he has. As he is one of my clients, I am aware that he normally would prefer the more valuable book. He could always put together the other collection. I’d be happy to help him.”

Harry nodded. “But—”

Karen ploughed on. “But Delilah and Mason wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Mostly Mason,” I added.

“Delilah and Mason? Those are their names?”

“What? Oh, right. You’ve never met them.”

“Not for lack of trying. But I gave up on them. I’m not desperate, you know.”

“Of course not.”

“But I don’t understand, if they’re after the money and all, why they wouldn’t take you up on that deal.”

Karen said, “That’s the thing. It doesn’t add up. It’s possible they’ve sold the collection and Randolph doesn’t know a thing about it. He’s having memory problems, most likely because he’s drugged, so they’re getting away with it. In fact, I’d put money on it.”

Harry sputtered, “That is simply despicable.”

I said, “There were boxes in the foyer. When I saw them first, I thought perhaps they hadn’t unpacked yet. Now I’m wondering if they were selling off Randolph’s possessions.”

Harry said, “That would explain a few things. Should we call the police?”

I flinched at the
P
word. And I’d been hoping he wanted to play amateur sleuth with us.

Karen cut in, “Um, the police will want evidence and what we have is a hunch.”

“A solid hunch,” I added.

“Oh, very solid,” Karen agreed.

“Of course.” Harry nodded. “The police need evidence.”

“But we need to get that evidence
before
we involve the police,” I said. “This will probably mean the FBI, if he’s been kidnapped.” Of course, I was making it up as we went along. A little TV goes a long way.

The wet cap bobbed. “The FBI? Yes, that sounds right.”

Okay, now that he was in, I could almost hear the
Criminal Minds
theme song coming out of his ears.

“So will you help us?”

“Will I help you? Of course, ladies. Of course, but how? What can I do?”

I shook his hand to seal the deal. “What you’ve been doing. Keeping a neighborly eye on the place. And then let us know if Delilah and Mason leave. If we can get to Randolph, I think we can turn the tables on them.”

“Brilliant! I’m your man.” Harry beamed and we did too, although by this point we all looked like drowned rats yet again. Karen’s slicker was good to a point, except that the neck was too wide. Icy water was now running down the back of my neck and soaking into the tweed sweater.

“Excellent. We’ll give you Karen’s number at the Cozy Corpse. It’s her cell number too.”

“You don’t need to give it to me. I already have it.”

We both blinked at him. I didn’t remember Karen giving him her number.

Karen said, “What do you mean?”

“I have it.”

“How did you get it?” Something about that creeped me out.

He started to laugh. I wasn’t sure it was a laughing matter.

“If you don’t want people to get your number, maybe you shouldn’t be driving around with it clearly painted on your van.”

That was a relief. “Sorry,” I said. “I think I’m just freaked out by these people. Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Me neither,” Karen said. “And I’m freaked too. We’ve been imagining the worst and it’s taking a toll.”

“No offense taken, ladies. I’ll let you know the minute I see those two reptiles head out and I’ll do my best to keep an eye on—what’s his name?—Randolph?”

“Yes. Don’t put yourself in a compromising position though.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, brandishing the clippers.

I said, “Right. I suppose we’d better get your number too.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He couldn’t seem to stop chuckling. I realized that for the first time in a long time, Harry Yerxa was having fun. I was glad we could help with that. I wrote out my number and hoped it wouldn’t be too soggy to read if he needed it.

Harry fished a small notebook from his pocket, scribbled his number, ripped out the sheet and handed it to me. I dropped it into my bag.

He wasn’t the most typical ally, but I was quite sure that Lord Peter Wimsey would have enlisted Harry too had the shoe been on his aristocratic foot. Now, if we could just figure out where Kevin was hiding out. I knew that my uncles would have made sure he was there to ensure our well-being. Even though Harry and Kevin seemed to have hit it off earlier, I didn’t want Kev to connect with him. My most chaotic uncle was quite capable of getting poor Harry Yerxa into a tight spot. Kev loves tight spots. He thrives on them and often creates them for others.

By the time we got into the van, Karen and I were almost cheerful, having gained Harry as an ally. We didn’t spot Mason approaching until he pounded against Karen’s window. That got our attention.

Under the black hoodie, his face was grim. He thumped his hands on the glass again, and our whole vehicle shook. I pressed the automatic locks but the key lock gave my frozen, wet fingers some trouble.

Delilah scurried behind him, her flowy garment whipping in the wind. “Please come in the house, baby,” she pleaded.

“I told you two scam artists to stay away!” He banged the window again to punctuate his rage. He pointed at Karen. It was only a finger, but a weapon couldn’t have been scarier.

“I don’t know what the hell your problem is, lady, but if you come here again, you will regret it.” Karen and I watched, stunned, as he stormed through the rain to his house. Delilah followed, her long hair drenched, hands stretched out to him.

“Motherhood. I may be glad I missed out,” Karen said with a wobble in her voice.

“I hear you.”

“Do the kids still say WTF?” This time she managed a grin, though we were both breathing heavily in the now fogged-up car.

I laughed. She sure had spirit. Even so, she was fragile and I needed to get her home before she caught a chill or we were accosted again.

I was also way too soggy and I needed a chance to think. Uncle Kev should have been watching the Adams house as we drove off. With luck, he’d keep me posted and wouldn’t get himself or anyone else into trouble.

I just had to have faith.

Usually, when things got weird or worrying, I would get in touch with Tiffany, and she’d give me some perspective. Occasionally she has brought to my attention such things as respecting boundaries and some of the more subtle points of the law, such as: locks aren’t always for picking and normal law abiding citizens don’t run around in wigs snooping on their friend’s clients. I guess some other part of Tiff had rubbed off.

I seemed to be sabotaging my own goal of being the first person in my family to go straight. Tiff would have plenty to say about that. If she were still in contact.

My Spidey Sense warned me that something was wrong. I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what was going on. Randolph hadn’t seemed unhappy and wasn’t entirely under their control. Could it be some sort of Stockholm syndrome? Or was he maybe just going in and out of senility, unable to recognize his abusers, so he treats them well, because he’s a gentleman. It all felt wrong and it was making me even more anxious about my task for Vera. I needed to get those books to keep my job and home. Would I be able to with Mason standing guard?

Karen said nothing for the rest of the way. I knew she was troubled too. This time she let me help her.

“We’ll get through it,” I promised her.

“Alive, I hope,” she said.

• • •

AS I CRUISED
down the long Van Alst driveway toward the back entrance, a sad figure caught my attention. I’d recognize him under any circumstances, even drenched. It was our letter carrier, Eddie, who had carried an unwavering torch for Vera since they were young. He was raking up piles of wet leaves. I paused and rolled down my window. “Eddie?”

“Jordan!” He waved, and then looked down at his slippery pile. Pointing at the amber glow in the window, he said, “She hates the leaves.”

“Do you want me to get you a proper raincoat?”

“It’s too late for that, but I’m almost finished. Thanks.”

I left Eddie toiling in the downpour.
I had to hand it to Vera; she sure knew how to keep a guy interested and desperate. He didn’t even work for her and he was probably delighted to have been summoned to toil for Her Highness.

I did work for her, but on this particular day, I preferred to dodge her and her instructions.

My garret was deliciously warm. The signora had left me a gift of hot lemon “tea.” It was mostly rum and honey, but if that was what Italians wanted to call tea, who was I to argue? I still hadn’t figured out how she knew exactly when I would be home, but the “tea” was piping hot and had a good three fingers of rum in it. I gulped it down even before I ditched my sodden clothes.

Good Cat rolled on my bed playfully. Purrs and chirps filled the quiet room. “I have to freshen up for dinner. No time for cuddles.” I headed to the claw-foot tub. The clothes I had borrowed from Karen splatted in a wet heap on the floor. Cradled in the tub with the luxurious lavender suds, and a second cup of “tea,” I let my mind go.