Paul Robertson - According to Their Deeds

“I see,” Charles said. “That’s a little dangerous in a prosecutor, isn’t it?”

John’s answer was a little slow in coming. “Perhaps. In this case, a few lines were crossed.”

“In what way?”

“Maybe we don’t need to go into details,” John said. “In fact, as this all happened to an acquaintance, I don’t think I really know the details. Suffice it to say, there were a number of cases he prosecuted successfully but that later were overturned because these lines had been crossed.”

“Were the people actually guilty of the charges he prosecuted?”

“He felt quite sure that they were, which would be why he felt justified in overlooking the niceties. However, the law is the law. The convictions were thrown out.”

“Where is he now?”

“I’m not really sure. I’ve lost touch. He had already left the county, and at this point there wouldn’t be any need to stir up his past. It could even be detrimental to his career. Um, for all I know, at least. As I’ve said, I’ve lost touch.”

“And what does this have to do with Patrick White?” Charles asked.

“My friend later told me something he’d learned from the incident. He said he’d resolved to be much more careful in bringing charges against other people.”

“Just more careful?” Charles asked. “So that he’d have more complete cases against them?”

“No, not exactly. We’ll say he learned to be less anxious to see others punished.”

“Something like mercy, John?”

“Yes. Something like mercy, Charles.”

“I see. Well, that is a very interesting story. It does explain your lenience toward Patrick White.”

“Good. I hoped it would. And I won’t take any more of your time.”

“I’m always at your service, John. And I actually have a quick question for you.”

“Of course! What can I do for you?”

“Yesterday, you mentioned having gone on a camping and rafting trip through the Grand Canyon. I was thinking it might be just the thing for Dorothy and me.”

“Absolutely, Charles! I would recommend it to anyone.”

“Did you do it through a travel agency?”

“I did. I’ll have to have my secretary dig that up. I’ll have her send that over to you right away!”

“Thank you very much. I’d appreciate it.”

Dorothy’s eyes were as wide as the Grand Canyon when he’d hung up. “Camping and rafting?”

“John Borchard told me he was on vacation in the Grand Canyon when Derek was killed, and I was just curious about it. But I would take you! Would you like to?”

“I think I’d rather just see it from the top.”

“Then let’s do. When would you be ready? I’ll take you anywhere!”

“I think I’d prefer Paris. But what are you curious about?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“And what were you talking about before that?”

“His old friend, who was a prosecutor in Kansas. Actually, it was the person in Derek’s paper.”

“It wasn’t John, then?”

“Oh, yes, it is John Borchard. He said it was a friend, but he was really describing himself.”

“That sounds very complicated.”

“It is very complicated. It will take me a while to work it out, and I have to call London.” He looked at the computer screen on his desk. “And, I see that John Borchard’s secretary is very efficient.” He copied a telephone number from the screen. “I will be in the basement.”

“Sotheby’s,” the telephone said, and it sounded just like it.

“Good morning,” Charles said. “Or, it would be afternoon there, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. It’s 4:15.”

“Good afternoon, then. My name is Charles Beale and I’m doing some research on an item that was sold through your house in 1925.”

“Just a moment, Mr. Beale. I’ll put you through to our records department.”

“Thank you.”

He waited, for a very short time.

“Mr. Beale?”

“Yes, this is Charles Beale.”

“Good afternoon. I am Anthony Prescott.” He sounded just like it, too. “How may we help you, sir?”

“I’m calling from Virginia in the United States. I am a rare-books dealer and I have a book, which I’ve just bought through eBay, and I’m trying to get more information about it. I believe the book may have been sold at a Sotheby’s auction in London in 1925. Is there any information you can give me that might verify that?”

“I can look, sir. Could you describe the book or the auction?”

“It would have been a Lord Bostwick, selling the possessions of his deceased wife. The book itself is an Alexander Pope translation of Homer’s Odyssey. I’m estimating the publication date to be in the 1830s. I don’t know how it would have been described in the auction catalog.”

“Mr. Beale,” Mr. Prescott said. “I do see that sale for 1925. I’ll need to do more research to find anything about that book.”

“The particular things I’m interested in,” Charles said, “are first, if this book was indeed sold through that auction, and second, if any other books were bought at that auction, and even possibly by whom.”

“I may be able to help you with your first points, Mr. Beale, but we never release information about our buyers without their permission.”

“I’m quite familiar with your policies, Mr. Prescott. I’ve bought a few things at Sotheby’s through the years, so I’m one of your buyers myself! But anything I can find out would be useful, especially if I can determine that this book was one of a set. Oh, and one other request, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Beale. I see your record here in the computer. We’ll be pleased to assist you.”

“Thank you. I also wonder if there might have been a framed single page sold in that same auction. It would have been the title page of this book, broken out separately.”

“I can check that as well, sir.”

“Thank you so much. I do appreciate it.”

Charles referred to his note and dialed another number.

“DuPont Travel,” said another voice, which also sounded just like it.

“Hello, my name is Charles Beale. I have a friend who recommended your Grand Canyon tours very highly.”

Smiles poured out of the receiver. “I’m so glad! They’re very nice. Are you interested in one in particular?”

“My friend spoke very highly of the guides on his trip. I’d like to make sure we have the same ones.”

“I’ll have to see who they were. When did your friend take his trip?”

“It was last fall, in the middle of November. My friend’s name is John Borchard.”

“Let me see what I can find.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Computers are wonderful things,” Charles said.

“We couldn’t get by without them! Now let’s see… he was on the November seventeenth five-day trip. I’ll have to call the tour operators to see about the guides. But if they’re still available, I’m sure we can work it out!”

“Thank you so much! That would be so nice.”

“Sure, Mr. Beale! Now, let me get a phone number and I’ll call back as soon as I have that information.”

“Have you worked out John Borchard’s story?” Dorothy asked. They had returned to the salad hunting grounds, with similar results.

“I have worked a dozen different scenarios and ranked them in order of probability.”

“What is the most probable, then?”

“None of them.”

“ Most is ordinal,” Dorothy said. “There has to be one.”

“ Probable is qualitative, though, and none of them are.”

“Charles, I am armed with the English language, and I know how to use it.”

“Then I surrender! I will describe the least improbable scenario.” He bit, chewed, and swallowed. “John thinks I have Derek’s papers, which are incriminating to certain individuals. He does not know whether any of these papers concerns himself. Therefore, he told the story as if it were about someone else, and as a reason why he hasn’t sued Patrick White over his alleged slanders.”