Дэвид Балдаччи - The Collectors

“No,” Caleb admitted, his heart sinking. “But I haven’t looked through Jonathan’s personal papers. My work was limited to the book collection.”

“No, your work extends to all evidence of ownership of his books. Do you really think that Christie’s or Sotheby’s will put a Psalm Book up for auction without being absolutely certain of both its authenticity and the legal authority under which Jonathan DeHaven’s estate will be selling the book?”

“Of course, I was aware that they would need to know that.”

“Well, Shaw, if I were you, I would set about immediately to find that evidence. But if you can’t, the clear impression will be that Jonathan came by it through means that are not verifiable. And in the rare book field that is tantamount to saying that he stole it himself or knowingly purchased it from someone who did.”

“I suppose I could ask his attorneys if I could search through his papers. Or perhaps they could do it if I told them what to look for.”

“If you go that route, they will want to know why. And when you tell them, you will have most certainly lost control of the situation.”

“Do you expect me to look all by myself?”

“Yes! You’re his literary executor, start acting like it.”

“I don’t care to be talked to in that manner,” Caleb said angrily.

“Are you paid a percentage of the sale price of auction?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” Caleb retorted.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Well, if you try to auction this Psalm Book off without finding ironclad proof that DeHaven came by it honestly and it’s later found that he didn’t, it won’t only be his reputation down the toilet, will it? When a great deal of money is involved, people always assume the worst.”

Caleb didn’t say anything as this slowly sank in. As repugnant as he found Pearl’s remarks, the man had a point. It was devastating to think that his deceased friend’s reputation would suffer a shipwreck, but Caleb certainly didn’t want to sink to the bottom along with it.

“I suppose I could go through Jonathan’s things at his house.” He knew that Oliver and the others had already searched the house, but they hadn’t been looking for ownership documents for the book collection.

“Will you go tonight?”

“It’s late already.” And he’d given the key to Reuben.

“Well, tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

“Very well. Please let me know what you find. Or don’t find.”

After Pearl had left, Caleb poured himself a glass of sherry and drank it while eating a bowl of greasy potato chips, one of his favorite snacks. He was under too much pressure to adhere to any sort of diet now. As he sat drinking, he ran his gaze over his own small collection of books he kept on a set of shelves in his den.

Who would’ve thought book collecting could get so damn complicated?

Very early the next morning Reuben reported to Stone that nothing had happened the previous night at DeHaven’s; this was a repeat of the report he’d given the night before.

“Nothing?” Stone said skeptically.

“No action in the bedroom, if that’s what you’re implying. I saw Behan and his wife come home around midnight. But apparently, they don’t use that bedroom, because the light never came on. Maybe that venue’s reserved for the strippers.”

“Did you see anything else? The white van, for instance?”

“No, and I think I got in and out of the place without anyone seeing me the last two nights. A ten-foot hedge runs all the way around the rear area. There’s an alarm pad right inside the back door, so that was easy enough.”

“Are you sure you didn’t notice anything that could help us?”

Reuben looked uncertain. “Well, it might be nothing, but around one in the morning I thought I saw a glint of something in a window of the house across the street.”

“Maybe the owners were up and about.”

“That’s the thing. It doesn’t look like anybody’s living there. No car and no trash cans out front. And today’s trash day because all the other houses had them out on the curb last night.”

Stone stared at him curiously. “That is interesting. Could the glint have been an optics signature?”

“Not from a gun, I don’t think. But maybe a pair of binoculars.”

“Keep an eye on that place as well. What about the call to the police?”

“I did it from a pay phone like you said. I took it as a bad sign when the woman told me to stop making crank calls to the police.”

“Okay, call me with your next report tomorrow morning.”

“Great, but when exactly am I supposed to sleep, Oliver? I’m leaving for the loading dock right now, and I’ve been up all night.”

“When do you get off work?”

“Two.”

“Sleep then. You won’t have to be at DeHaven’s until ten or so.”

“Thanks a lot. Can I at least eat the man’s food?”

“Yes, so long as you replace it.”

Reuben snorted. “Man, living in a mansion ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

“See, you haven’t missed anything.”

“And while I’m out here busting my ass, what’s Your Highness doing?”

“Your Highness is still thinking.”

“Have you heard from Susan?” Reuben added hopefully.

“Not a word.”

A half hour later Stone was out working in the graveyard when a taxi pulled up by the gates and Milton climbed out. Stone rose, dusted off his hands, and the two went in the cottage together. While Stone poured out some lemonade, Milton opened his laptop and a paper file he’d brought with him.

“I’ve found out a lot about Cornelius Behan and Robert Bradley,” he said. “I just don’t know how helpful it’ll be.”

Stone sat down at his desk and pulled the file toward him. Twenty minutes later he looked up from the pages. “It does not appear that Behan and Bradley were friends at all.”

“ Enemies, more accurately. Although Behan’s company won those two big government contracts, Bradley thwarted him on three others, in part by floating allegations that Behan was into buying influence. I got that last bit from a couple of Hill staffers I know. They wouldn’t come out and say it, of course, but it was pretty clear that Bradley went out of his way to spearhead the attack on Behan. And it’s also clear he thought Behan was corrupt. It doesn’t sound like they’re part of a spy ring.”

“No, it doesn’t, unless it’s a cover. But I agree with the late Speaker. I believe Behan is corrupt too. Is he corrupt enough to kill? In DeHaven’s case I would say yes.”

“So maybe Behan had Bradley killed too. He’d have a clear motive if the man was interfering with his business.”

Stone said, “We’ve established that DeHaven was killed by CO 2poisoning and that the lethal cylinder came from one of Behan’s companies. Caleb called me yesterday. He went into the vault and checked behind the bent air vent. There was a small screw hole in the wall of the duct that could have been used to secure the camera. And he also reported that the grille screws came out very easily, as though they had been taken out recently. But it’s not enough to prove a camera was ever there.”

“So if Bradley and Behan weren’t in cahoots together, Jonathan couldn’t have seen them at Behan’s house. So why kill Jonathan?”

Stone shook his head. “I simply don’t know, Milton.”

After Milton had left, Stone went back to work in the cemetery. He hauled a lawn mower out of a small storage shed, cranked it up and ran it over a patch of grass in a field to the left of the cottage. When he finished and cut the motor, he turned to find her watching him. She had on a big floppy hat, sunglasses and a three-quarter-length brown leather coat over her short skirt. Behind her he saw the rental car parked just outside the gates.