The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (15 page)

The news announcer’s voice kept echoing in my head: body of an unidentified white male. It was enough to make my heart race. Was it possible? No information had been released about the body. Just an unidentified white male. I felt sick. I couldn’t imagine never seeing that chipped incisor again. It was what made Officer Smiley’s grins so contagious. Or so irritating, depending on the circumstances. Five minutes later I had concluded that there were no unlocked windows or doors in the house. No sound came from it.

Across the street, a silver-haired woman somewhere on the high side of seventy was standing outside, inspecting her oak trees. Or at least pretending to. I knew she was watching me.

I crossed the street and made myself smile.

“Hello. I’m looking for my friend. I thought we were supposed to meet here this morning, but I seem to have missed him. Did you see him head out?”

“What’s his name?”

“Sorry?”

“Your friend. What’s his name?”

“Tyler. Tyler Dekker. Why do you ask?”

“Just checking. For all I know you may be a burglar casing the joint.”

I needed a bit of a chuckle. “I could be, but I’m not.”

She put her hands on her hips and gave me a stern glance. “That’s what they do, you know. They ask the neighbors when they’ll be back and then they use that information to get in and clear everything out.”

“Not my plan. For one thing, there’s very little to steal inside that house, and for a second, Tyler is a police officer, so that’s a terrible target for housebreakers. I think they mostly prefer things the easy way.”

“Suppose you’re right.”

“Can you tell me what time he left? It’s very important. Don’t give me his schedule or anything like that.”

“I wouldn’t even if you did ask me.”

We continued our verbal wrangling for several minutes, before she stalked back toward her house and out of my reach.

You win some. You lose some. My uncles taught me that early. I wasn’t happy that I’d lost this one.

• • •

I HEADED FOR
the Harrison Falls police station and smiled at the desk sergeant.

“Dekker booked off sick,” he said, giving me a curious glance. “Can someone else help you?”

“What? Oh no, it’s just a social call. I was in the area and thought I’d say hi. I’ll give him a call. Thank you.” I brought out my most innocent smile and flashed it. “Can you tell him Jordan says ‘hi’? Never mind. I’ll just text him.” I felt like a teenage girl talking to the mother of the guy I had a crush on.

That smile wasn’t easy to produce or sustain, given this latest news. Dekker wasn’t in and he wasn’t at home. The icy feeling of the cold mud the previous night was nothing compared to the way I felt now. Was he really sick? If so, where was he? Not home for sure. Waiting somewhere? In an emergency room?

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Was Tyler dead? Had the blow from Uncle Kev killed him before he got home? I had to get more information. I really couldn’t let the desk sergeant in on it.

And there was only one place to get it.

I headed out to the Saab to make the trip to Burton.

• • •

LINCOLN WAY WAS
a hive of activity. Police vehicles, news vans, you name it. I had to park three blocks away.

As I walked back toward the Adams place, I stared at everything with surprise and interest. I’d been practicing that look, as I didn’t want the sick feeling to show on my face. I didn’t want anyone else to know what I feared.

I headed straight for Harry Yerxa’s place.

No answer.

Wasn’t anyone home today?

In Harry’s case it seemed very odd, as he was such an inquisitive person. How could he resist the drama on his own street? Perhaps he was just out annoying the police. It would be just like him. As much as I would have enjoyed watching that, I didn’t want to come nose-to-nose with any investigators.

I walked down his walkway and up to the front door of the Adamses. No sign of the Audi. It could have been parked in the garage or it could have departed. No way to know.

Of course, I never expected anyone to answer, but I had to knock. I issued a little wave to the cameras and gave the front door a good bang. I almost toppled over when it swung inward.

“Hello,” I called. “Randolph?” I didn’t really believe that Delilah and Mason would have left Randolph on his own, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. I glanced around. The cameras were on, trained on a middle-aged woman who kept shaking her head and trying to escape back to her house. Harry Yerxa was missing out on his fifteen minutes of fame. No one seemed to be watching me. I could almost hear those Sayers books. Lord Peter whispered in my ear, “It’s easier to get forgiveness than permission, my dear.” Well, he might have if he’d been real. It’s actually easier to get arrested, whispered the voice of reason.

“Hello?”

I stepped inside and glanced around.

What had happened here? The Adamses’ neat living room was a scene of chaos: a chair tipped over, dishes abandoned and books lying on the floor. The boxes that had been piled by the door were gone. The books from the built-in bookcases were also gone, and the wine racks in the dining room were half empty. I could understand moving out and taking valuables. But why was there such a mess? Had Randolph decided to fight back? Would that explain it?

“Randolph?”

I stood at the foot of the stairs and glanced up. No movement. Not a sound. I didn’t think there was much chance that either Mason or Delilah would have let me get this far if they were on the premises. On the other hand, I had no legal reason to be in that house. As a rule, this is not enough to stop anyone in my extended family, but I was trying for a different lifestyle. But on the
other
other hand, if the Sayers volumes were there, then I could simply pick them up and . . . what? I was already inside. I could always say that Randolph had agreed to trade for the Hemingway and then I could come back with that. No. I shook my head. This intriguing idea wasn’t consistent with my plan to lead an exemplary life and work toward my PhD. It was consistent with my plan to keep my current job, which was intended to rebuild my bank balance and let me resume my normal life.

I was quite paralyzed by the pending decision.

I heard a noise behind me and whirled. A police officer, a female this time, was lumbering around the side of the house and up the stairs. I rushed out to meet her. “Officer, would you be able to help me with something? I am looking for Randolph Adams, an elderly man who lives here. I’m a friend. He isn’t usually left alone in the house, but he should be here now.” Okay, so I wasn’t completely truthful. “The door was left open. Open, not just unlocked. I’d like to check, but, you know, that would be trespassing. I am sure you understand my problem. I’m very worried. I heard on the news they found a man murdered in the neighborhood, and there is no answer on the phone. What if it was Randolph?” My voice was shaking and I didn’t even have to fake it. I did play up my distress. It hadn’t occurred to me until this moment that the body could be Randolph’s. I’d been too worried about Uncle Kev and Tyler Dekker.

The officer was burly and tough looking, and that Kevlar vest wasn’t doing her any favors. She had badly overbleached hair in a long ponytail and fierce black eyebrows that looked like they’d been shaped by a pro. One tough cookie, chewing gum. So I was relieved when she smiled kindly at me. She had a gap between her front teeth. It added to the smile.

I blurted out, “You have to go inside! What if he’s fallen and can’t get up? I don’t think he has one of those security buttons!”

She snapped her gum. “We’re dealing with a crime scene outside. I don’t—”

“You’re right. It’s more likely he’s the murdered man over there.” I pointed toward the rear of the house. To tell the truth I wasn’t faking the tears stinging my eyes. How did I suddenly have three missing men on my hands?

“How old is he?” The officer pushed the door open a little farther with the edge of her notebook. There was no expression on her face, but I could see her start to take interest.

“Randolph? He must be in his seventies.”

“Then I can tell you he’s not the man whose body was found.”

Her smile returned. I felt a mix of relief and panic.

“Guy was younger,” she confided. “Twenties or thirties. Early forties tops. I shouldn’t be saying anything.”

I gulped. Chances were that body was either Tyler’s or Uncle Kev’s. That was enough to make me sick.

She nodded. “It can’t hurt to check on this guy.” She proceeded to the foot of the stairs. “Sir?” she called out.

“Mr. Adams,” I offered. “Randolph.”

“Mr. Adams, are you up there?”

Nothing.

“Randolph?” she tried. I followed her up the lovely wooden stairs to the second floor. She peeked in each of the bedrooms. I followed her. Not surprising. The chairlift had been on the bottom of the stairs. Now no Randolph. No anyone.

Even though I didn’t think he was in the house, I said, “Should we check the bathrooms? I think sometimes older people . . . fall.”

Three bedrooms and two bathrooms later, no Randolph.

“I guess I was worried for nothing,” I said. “No one here.”

“Looks like they went on a trip,” she said, glancing around. The entire second floor was in chaos, clothes tossed and discarded, more books tumbled, drawers opened. The beds were unmade and towels lay on the floor. Somehow this didn’t mesh with my idea of Delilah, pale and elegant.

“Maybe.”

She looked at me sharply. She was after all a cop. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I tried to do some business with Randolph, but his daughter and grandson kept running interference. I thought perhaps there was some kind of elder abuse, fraud.”

“Do you have any evidence?”

“No. Just a strong feeling.”

“What kind of business?”

“Books.”

“Books?”

“Yes. He was a collector and I am working with a dealer. He was interested in a Hemingway first edition, but his family has been making it difficult to see him. It felt to me like he was being controlled by them.” I didn’t mention the Sayers, or Vera, or even Karen’s name. Just being cautious. I had begun to realize that I was unwise to be in this house at all. Something wasn’t right. It really had nothing to do with me, and yet there I was sticking my nose in and attracting the attention of the cops. I could just imagine Uncle Mick’s reaction.

“Well, if they were supporting him and they didn’t want him wasting his money on books . . .” The cop shrugged.

I must have looked horrified, because she quickly added. “I’m just saying, that’s how they might have been looking at it. I mean, I like books as much as the next person.”

Before heading out, we both looked around again. She was keeping an eye out for something to indicate there’d been a crime, and I was searching for the Sayers books, while trying to give the impression I wasn’t looking for anything. That was quite a challenge when I spotted some of the titles. I stared. Sure enough there was
Murder Must Advertise
lying on the floor in front of a low built-in bookshelf under the window in the central hallway. A window! Vera would have a fit if she thought they’d been exposed that way. All it would take was one absentminded moment, a window left open, a sudden rainstorm. It occurred to me that I had spent way too much time around Vera. On the shelf lay
Gaudy Night
and
Five Red Herrings.
Partway across the room
The Nine Tailors
lay open, spine up. I shuddered. I glanced around and located
Busman’s Honeymoon
,
Unnatural Death
and
Whose Body?

By the time I found
Strong Poison,
I was breathing heavily. I barely managed to keep myself from reaching out and scooping them up, holding the volumes close to my chest and racing off, cackling maniacally.

The cop was regarding me strangely. “All good there, miss? Don’t worry. We’ll ask around about your friend. I’m sure he’s fine. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if they left because it’s pretty scary having a murder in your backyard.”

“I guess so.” It didn’t account for the state of the house.

“You’ll see.” She gave me a pat on the arm. She was being very sweet for a police officer, considering all officers were sworn enemies of Kellys and Binghams. But then she didn’t know who I was.

“Thank you, Officer.”

“Candy,” she said with a surprising twinkle in her eye. “Candy Mortakis. And don’t you worry. We don’t want anything happening to a fragile old man. I’ll keep an eye on the house too. Personally.”

“Oh, I am probably just overreacting, um, Candy, but thanks. That’s very helpful.”

Great, now I had arranged for a cop to be watching the house I probably needed to break into.

What was this about? First, I was tripping over Officer Tyler “Smiley” Dekker and now this woman. What was I? Some kind of cop magnet? I had merely wanted to take advantage of her official presence, not become her new BFF.
Get me out of here!
I screamed, but inwardly of course.