The Sayers Swindle (A Book Collector Mystery) (26 page)

“That’s great, Karen. You remembered. I wonder why he wanted you to keep them. What books were they?”

“You’ll never guess!” she said. “They were three of the Sayers books.”

“Let me guess.
The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club
,
Clouds of Witness
and
Have His Carcase.

She gasped. “How did you know?”

“Long story, but I’ll fill you in later.” I didn’t want Karen knowing any of the illegal things I had done to find the rest of the collection. It would have put her in a tough spot with the police. It would put me at a disadvantage too. “Where are the books?”

“Safe with me.”

“Great.”

“Well, not so great, really. I remember the titles but I don’t exactly remember where I put them, but it will be a safe place. Don’t worry. I’m sure it will come to me. Do you want to have a hunt for them?”

“Thanks, Karen, I’ll do that. Are you home now?”

“No, I’m visiting Walter at your uncles’ place. I miss Walter so much. Mick is making dinner. He’s cooking.”

“Really? Cooking?” Did that mean opening a can?

“Yes, tuna casserole with mushroom soup and crumbled potato chips baked on the top. I love that.”

So did I, but it was much more cuisine than I expected from Uncle Mick. Something was going on over there. As soon as I got out of the mess I was in, I’d have to find out what was up.

“Karen, the police are going to question me about my involvement with the Adams family and 87 Lincoln Way. They’ll want to talk to you too.”

“Oh dear! What will I say?”

“Just tell the truth. You did nothing wrong.”

“All right, I’ll tell the truth if I can remember it. If not, I hope I don’t cause you problems.”

“You won’t. They won’t suspect you of anything. And your head injury is a matter of record. Don’t worry. I’ll go hunt for those books now.”

I tried Tyler again. This time I used a different tactic when he didn’t answer. I didn’t know what he was up to, but I knew that I could trust him not to do anything that would harm me.

“It’s me,” I said, sweetly. “I need a bit of advice from you. Some very strange things are emerging about the murder. You may not know that I was in the vicinity and also that a fake police officer befriended me. She was pretending to be Candy Mortakis from the Burton police force. The real Candy is a detective over there. The story is so wacky the Burton police are looking at me strangely. They want to interview me about everything. If they hadn’t had a shoot-out in the town, I’d be locked in an interview room right now. Can you offer me any reassurance? Or at least a shoulder to cry on? I’ll be over at my friend’s place late tomorrow afternoon if you have time to talk. Upstairs over the shop.”

There. In case he was also undercover, and the wrong person picked up his phone and got my message, they wouldn’t figure out he was a police officer. And he would know exactly which friend it was.

I decided to interrupt Uncle Mick even if he was making tuna casserole, a challenge to any Kelly.

“I may need a lawyer soon,” I said. “And it’s possible Kev might too. Just giving you a heads-up. We may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do you want to set something in motion?”

I don’t usually get silence from Mick, but this day was special.

I added, “It’s because I was in the neighborhood of the murder. I was in the house next door. I don’t think I saw anything that can help, but they want to question me because of this bizarre situation.” I filled him in on the Candy ordeal. Neither Mick nor I gave much away on the phone. You never know who can get a warrant for what.

“I’ll get on it right away,” he said. “It’s not like you’ve ever done anything that wasn’t on the straight and narrow, my girl.”

I exchanged a few quick texts with Lance to arrange to meet at eight the next evening for dinner and dishing. I stifled a few yawns. It was too late for any more driving or sleuthing or surprises. Time to catch up on my sleep.

V
ERA KEPT ME
busy with a plethora of errands the next day. She must have used a lot of energy dreaming them up. But by late afternoon, I had nothing left to do but head over to Karen’s and hunt for the three books she’d hidden. I loved Karen’s cluttered apartment with its books and china and chintz. Despite the clutter, her home was small enough that the books couldn’t stay hidden long.

During the drive to the Cozy Corpse, I kept worrying about inconsistencies that had been bothering me. It was not only the Adams family. But I would have to try to figure it all out later. I hoped I’d have some insights before the Burton police got out the rubber hoses (to use a term from Uncle Mick’s lexicon) and “interviewed” me.

Now added to the mix was the imposter Candy, whoever she was. It finally occurred to me that if Candy had deceived me about the dead police officer, it was because
she
was the real danger. If anyone was a contract killer, it must have been Candy. She had to be pretty cocky to hang around the crime scene dressed as a cop. This woman had an insane kind of courage. She had wanted something. But what? The Adams family was gone. A cop was dead. What had she been searching for?

I kept a sharp eye out for the navy-blue Tahoe and the treacherous woman who had pretended to be my friend. I did spot a silver Audi going the opposite way. It seemed like they were everywhere. So much for a faltering economy.

Karen was off with Lucky. I parked the Saab on the street to leave room for the Cozy Corpse van when Karen returned. I glanced around but didn’t see any suspicious-looking vehicles. The miserable guy next door was in his backyard, piling leaves into bags near the driveway. He gave me the stink-eye, as usual. His wife stuck her nose out the back door and added her version of the dirty look. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of appearing to notice. I was feeling pretty good in my cashmere coat with my favorite wide-legged trouser jeans. I continued through Karen’s backyard to the back door. At least Karen had left the door locked. I unlocked it and dropped my keys into the pocket of my jeans.

Upstairs, I surveyed the tiny apartment. I planned to search for the books in the living room, then the bedroom and finally, and only if necessary, the basement. I was inspecting the stacks of elderly volumes by the easy chair when I heard a noise from the staircase.

I turned and stared at the entrance to the room. The woman pointing the gun at me looked vaguely familiar. She was a curvy brunette with a mane of shoulder-length chestnut hair. It looked very good with a fresh blowout. She was wearing skintight Levi’s and a black tee with a plunging neckline. Her complexion glowed and her green eyes seemed to glitter. It was the odd little gappy smile that gave her away.

“I don’t know who you are, but you’d better put that gun down,” I said with fake bravado.

“You can stop with the act,” she said. “I can read you like one of these moldy old books.”

“Candy! You’ve had a fabulous makeover. I never would have recognized you. What a surprise.”

“I bet it’s a surprise.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I’ve been looking for nosy girls who now have to be dealt with.”

“What? Dealt with?”

“That’s right. Now, go sit in the chair.”

I had nothing to lose. “Candy, I thought we were friends. What are you talking about? Are you really pointing a gun at me?”

“Yes, I am, because you are too smart for your own good. Don’t bother lying. It’s too little, too late, and it won’t work.”

I wanted to kick myself. She must have followed me. I’d been watching for her vehicle, but of course, she had probably ditched that without a blink. The world was full of cars that I hadn’t been watching for.

No one knew I was here except Smiley, assuming he picked up my oblique message from the night before. Karen and Lucky were in their own little world, and Mick would assume that I was at Van Alst House. Vera and the signora probably still thought I was in my attic. Tiff had fallen off the face of the earth. Lance wasn’t expecting to meet up until eight in the evening.

I was on my own. Well, not exactly on my own. I was facing a gun-wielding Candy and that was definitely not a good thing.

The Kellys do not do guns, so that part of my education was sadly lacking. This one looked heavy and dangerous though. And it was pointed right at me. The fake Candy was definitely very comfortable with handguns. That much was obvious. She wasn’t a police officer and it was clear that Candy’s connections were not law-abiding ones. I figured her training included learning how to shoot. Mind you, in the small confines of Karen’s apartment, Candy could hardly miss. Even though I knew she wasn’t the real Candy Mortakis, I still couldn’t stop thinking of her as “Candy.”

I thought hard. Was there anything I could use against her? She was going to have to silence me. There was nowhere to run, so my only hope was to find a weapon. Aside from the teapot, the china cups and the books, everything was soft and cozy. Useless in this scenario.

“It’s been fun, but fun’s over now,” she said.

“Can’t we discuss this?” I decided to play it as if she really was a small-town cop and not, as I had belatedly figured out, a hired killer.

“I don’t know what you think you’re arresting me for, but I can get a great lawyer with one phone call. So this won’t advance your career in Burton.”

“Cut the crap. I’m not arresting you and you know that. I think our little game has played itself out. Now, what I need to know is, where is the information that Randolph gave you?”

I stared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t waste my time. Where is it?”

I did my best to steel my nerves as I told the truth. “Randolph didn’t give me
anything
.”

“I’m not fooled by that for a minute. If you can’t produce it, you’re of no use to me alive. So, where is it?”

My steely nerves were somewhat hampered by the fact I knew she had already killed at least one person. In fact, she’d probably killed a lot of people. I didn’t want her to know that I’d figured that out. The problem was I didn’t know what “it” was.

“Honestly. Randolph was drugged or something. He didn’t give me anything. He could barely stay awake.”

“This is getting old. Tell me where it is.”

“Believe me, I would if I could.”

She sighed theatrically. She was one hell of an actress and I supposed she really liked the dramatics. The sigh sounded very professional. Maybe she’d had a bit of stage training, unlike the real police. More likely she had the easy gift for manipulation and deceit of a natural-born psychopath. Whatever, it wasn’t good.

“He had to have given it to you. It wasn’t in the house. Where else could it have gone?”

What did this mean? Had Candy been the person to ransack the Adams house after the family had fled? Was that why she was hanging around in her fake police uniform? But why? Was she looking for a clue to track them down?

“It would help if I had some idea about what you’re looking for,” I said.

“No more of your cute tricks. I’m running out of patience and you’re running out of time.”

“Look,” I said, anxious to change the topic. “Randolph could have dementia. He might have intended to give me something, but he didn’t. If he had, would I keep looking for missing books?”

“Who said it was a book?”

I blinked.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“Well, the only thing
I’m
interested in is books. I’m just doing my job. I need to retrieve a collection of Dorothy L. Sayers first editions that were sold to Randolph by mistake. That’s my only connection to him.”

“It may have been your only connection, but not anymore. Did he give you a book?”

I shook my head. “No, he didn’t.”

Bad enough I was facing down the barrel of some kind of gun, I didn’t want to dump Karen into it. I was grateful that Karen wasn’t at home, but it was just a matter of time before she returned. I prayed that when she did, Candy would be gone.

I thought hard. What could she be talking about? If I could figure that out, I’d have some leverage.

“Still stalling,” she said,

“Again, if I knew what you’re looking for, I could work with you.”

“Work with me?” Her green eyes were not warm or pleading or filled with the need for friendship. I figured they never had been, but I had fallen for her pretense.

“Because I don’t want to get shot. There’s no love lost between me and the cops.”

I kept my voice light as if I actually believed my own words.

“In that case, tell me where it is.”

Well that just went around in circles. “I don’t know. For me it was all about the books. That’s all.”

Of course, it finally dawned on me. “It” must have been the books that Randolph slipped to Karen. Perhaps he’d placed something in them. Something he was trying to keep from Delilah and Mason. Or maybe just Mason. That relationship continued to unsettle me.

Why would those books be important to either of them? I thought back to our visit to see Randolph. Mason’s arrival during our talk explained why Randolph had quieted down suddenly. I hadn’t thought much of that at the time. Just a confused elderly gentleman. But instead of an overprotective grandson, Mason was something else entirely. And Randolph was well aware of it.

What would Wimsey do? He certainly would have reminded me that people are not who or what they seem to be. Perhaps he’d have mentioned that money and family strife are a recipe for trouble. Of course, I doubted Wimsey would find himself in such a dangerous situation in the first place. And if he had, surely Bunter would have shown up. Or Inspector Parker. Most likely with the books in hand. Obviously, I needed more and better sidekicks, maybe some that walked upright.

A movement in the doorway behind Candy gave me hope and then, panic. What if it was Karen coming home? There was no way that Karen would be a match for Candy. It would take Candy a minute to get the information out of her about Randolph and the three books. Then Karen would be dead. If she remembered about the books. And if she didn’t remember, she’d probably be just as dead.

I shuddered and Candy raised an eyebrow. “Got something to tell me?”

I needed to stall. “If it’s a book you’re looking for, I can probably help.”

“I don’t know what it is. You do.”

“I wish I did.”

“Not as much as you’re about to.”

Behind her a shadow blurred. The reassuring bulk of Officer Tyler Dekker moved on surprising cat feet behind Candy, his weapon raised.

As he reached her, I ducked behind the armchair, hoping it would absorb any random gunshots.

“Put the gun down.” Smiley meant business.

I could see her weighing the options.

He said, “Officer shoots hired killer in murder attempt.”

She stood still.

“Or you could try your luck with the judicial system. With the right lawyer, you might get a reduced sentence. Hope for the best in prison. But you’ll be breathing. Not that you deserve to be.”

Candy leaned forward and put her gun on the floor.

I inched farther behind the chair and out of the line of fire. I didn’t trust her not to turn and start blasting. “Be careful,” I said. “She’s a real weasel.”

“I know that.”

“And she’s not a police officer.”

“I realized that as soon as I pulled her over last week.”

“What?”

“Routine stop for a traffic offense in Harrison Falls.”

“And?”

“Her ID was in order. Candy Mortakis from the Burton force.”

I said, “That’s a real officer’s name, that’s why.”

Candy grinned. “You’d be amazed what you can find on Google.”

He ignored her. “She was driving a navy-blue Tahoe and she was in uniform, but something bothered me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I had to let her go. Kept an eye on her though.”

“Of course, the Tahoe. That’s what all you law enforcement types like to drive.”

“My gut told me that she wasn’t what she looked like.”