Lawrence Block - The Burglar Who liked to Quote Kipling

“Very well, sir. I believe you may already have encountered an emissary of mine. If my guess is right, you overcharged him in a transaction recently. He paid five hundred dollars for a book priced at a dollar ninety-five.”

“Not my fault. He ran off without his change.”

An appreciative chuckle. “Then you are the man I assumed you to be. Very good. You have pluck, sir. The police seek you in connection with a woman’s death and you persist in your efforts to sell a book. Business as usual, eh?”

“I need money right now.”

“To quit the country, I would suppose. You have the book at hand? It is actually in your possession as we talk?”

“Yes. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“I don’t believe I’ve given it. Before we go further, sir, perhaps you could prove to me that you have the volume.”

“I suppose I could hold it to the phone, but unless you have extraordinary powers…”

“Open it to page forty-two, sir, and read the first stanza on the page.”

“Oh. Hold on a minute. ‘Now if you should go to Fort Bucklow / When the moon is on the wane, / And the jackal growls while the monkey howls / Like a woman struck insane… Is that the one you mean?”

A pause. “I want that volume, sir. I want to buy it.”

“Good. I want to sell it.”

“And your price?”

“I haven’t set it yet.”

“If you will do so…”

“This is tricky business. I have to protect myself. I’m a fugitive, as you said, and that makes me vulnerable. I don’t even know whom I’m dealing with.”

“A visitor in your land, sir. A passionate devotee of Mr. Kipling. My name is of little importance.”

“How can I get in touch with you?”

“It’s of less importance than my name. I can get in touch with you , sir, by calling this number.”

“No. I won’t be here. It’s not safe. Give me a number where I can reach you at five o’clock this afternoon.”

“A telephone number?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t do that.”

“It can be any telephone at all. Just so you’ll be at it at five o’clock.”

“Ah. I will call you back, sir, in ten minutes.”

Rrrring!

“Hello?”

“Sir, you have pencil and paper?”

“Go ahead.”

“I will be at this number at five o’clock this afternoon. RH4- 5198.”

“RH4-5198. At five o’clock.”

Rrrring! Rrrring!

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Ah. If you could say something more elaborate than a simple hello …”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Very good. I’d hoped it was you. I won’t use your name aloud, and I trust you won’t use mine.”

“Only if I want to call your club and have you paged.”

“Don’t do that.”

“They said you weren’t a member. Extraordinary, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps I haven’t been altogether straightforward with you, my boy. I can explain everything.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“The elusive item. Can I assume from your advertisement that it hasn’t slipped out of your hands?”

“It’s in front of me even as we speak.”

“Excellent.”

“ ‘Now if you should go to Fort Bucklow / When the moon is on the wane, / And the jackal growls while the monkey howls…’ ”

“For heaven’s sake, don’t read it to me. Or have you committed great stretches of it to memory?”

“No, I was reading.”

“Oh, to prove possession? Hardly necessary, my boy. You’d scarcely have shot the woman and then left the book behind, would you? Now how are we going to manage this transaction?”

“We could meet someplace.”

“We could. Of course neither of us would welcome the attention of the police. I wonder…”

“Give me a number where I can reach you at six o’clock.”

“Why don’t I simply call you?”

“Because I don’t know where I’ll be.”

“I see. Well, my boy, at the risk of appearing to play them close to the vest, I’m not sure I’d care to give out this number.”

“Any number, then.”

“How’s that?”

“Pick a pay phone. Give me the number and be there to answer it at six.”

“Ah. I’ll get back to you.”

Rrrring!

“Hello?”

“ CHelsea 2- 9419.”

“Good.”

“At six o’clock.”

“Good.”

Rrrring!

“Hello?”

“Hello. I believe you advertised-”

“Passage to Fort Bucklow. That’s correct.”

“May I speak frankly? We’re talking about a book, are we not?”

“Yes.”

“And you wish to purchase it?”

“I have it for sale.”

A pause. “I see. You actually own a copy. You have it in your possession.”

“ ‘…The jackal growls while the monkey howls / Like a woman struck insane…’ ”

“What did you say?”

“I’m reading from the top of page forty-two.”

“That would hardly seem necessary.” Another pause. “This is confusing. Perhaps I should give you my name.”

“That’d be nice.”

“It’s Demarest. Prescott Demarest, and I don’t suppose it will mean anything to you. I’m acting as agent for a wealthy collector whose name would mean something to you, but I haven’t the authority to mention it. He was recently offered a copy of this book. The offer was suddenly withdrawn. I wonder if it’s the same copy?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“The copy he was offered was represented as unique. It was our understanding that only one copy of the book exists.”

“Then it must be the same copy.”

“So it would seem. I don’t think you gave your name.”

“I’m careful about my privacy, Mr. Demarest. Like your employer.”

“I see. I’d have to consult him, of course, but if you could let me know your price?”

“It hasn’t been set yet.”

“There are other potential buyers?”

“Several.”

“I’d like to see the book. Before you offer it to anyone else. If we could arrange to meet-”

“I can’t talk right now, Mr. Demarest. Where can I reach you this afternoon at, say, four o’clock? Will you be near a telephone?”

“I can arrange to be.”

“Could I have the number?”

“I don’t see why not. Take this down. WOrth 4-1114. You did say four o’clock? I’ll expect to hear from you then.”

“I think that’s it,” I told Carolyn, after I’d summarized the Demarest conversation for her. “I don’t think there are going to be any more calls.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can’t, but it’s one of my stronger hunches. The first caller was foreign and he’s the one who sicced the Sikh on me. The Sikh came around Thursday afternoon, so he’s known at least that long that I had the book, but he made me read it to him over the phone.”

“What does that prove?”

“Beats me. Right now I’m just piling up data. Interpreting it will have to wait. The second call was from Whelkin and he wasn’t terribly interested in howling jackals or growling monkeys.”

“I think it’s the other way around.”

“Monkeys and jackals aren’t terribly interested in Whelkin?”

“The jackal was growling and the monkey was howling. Not that it makes a hell of a lot of difference. What are you getting at, Bernie?”

“Good question. Whelkin seemed to take it for granted that I killed Madeleine Porlock. That’s why he wasn’t surprised I had the book. Which means he didn’t kill her. Unless, of course, he was pretending to believe I killed her, in which case…”

“In which case what?”

“Damned if I know. That leaves Demarest, and there’s something refreshing about him. He was very open about his name and he didn’t have to be coaxed into supplying his phone number. What do you suppose that means?”