A Man of Many Parts

by Edward Kendrick

  Jax cleaned up, put on slacks and a good shirt, rather than wearing the jeans he’d had on for working, and headed downstairs. Donovan wasn’t in the living room when he got there, but appeared several minutes later, cleaned up and also wearing slacks and a button-down shirt. He asked Jax if he’d like a drink before dinner, and when Jax said he would, made ones for both of them.

  “How is it coming with the atlas?” Donovan asked once they were seated in front of the fireplace.

  “No more crayon marks,” Jax replied. “I’ll get the tear repaired in the morning.” He paused to take a drink, before saying, “I found three books in your collection that need their bindings repaired.”

  “Only three?” Donovan said with a brief smile. “I would have thought there’d be more. At least in your opinion.”

  Jax bristled. “Are you saying you think I’m trying to drum up more business from you?”

  “Not at all,” Donovan protested, holding up one hand. “I’m well aware a few of them could use some work. I considered asking you to take a look, but you beat me to it. If you’re willing, and if you brought what you need with you, I’d like it if you’d work your magic.”

  “My magic?” Jax grinned, relaxing again. “I’m not certain it’s that. Just expertise born of long practice. I’ll show you the three I found and if you agree, I’ll start to work on them after I finish with the atlas.”

  “Thank you. If you want, there’s a room in the basement with a worktable that you can use. It’s well-lit and might make your job easier.”

  “That sounds good to me, and I do have what I need. That’s what two of my three bags are for. It’s a habit I got into when I got tired of having to stop what I was doing until I could pick up a necessary tool or what have you that I forgot to pack. Now I have at least two of everything. One set in my workroom at home and one that comes with me.”

  * * * *

  Donovan was about to ask how long Jackson been working as a book restorer when Walton came in to announce that dinner was ready. By the time they were settled in the small dining room and had started on their salad, he’d forgotten his question. Instead, they got into a conversation about book theft and two men who had conspired the steal and sell rare items from a library in Pittsburgh over the course of nearly twenty years.

  “Have you ever doubted the provenance of a book someone brought into your shop?” Jackson asked.

  “A few times,” Donovan told him. “When I did, even though I couldn’t prove the papers were forged, I refused to buy the book or put it out on consignment. I’d rather not lose my good name because I was greedy.” He paused to take another bite of his pork chop before asking, “Have you ever been hired to work on a book and come to the conclusion that it was stolen, whether the present owner knew it or not?”

  “No. I did come across an excellent forgery of the title page in a book which was supposedly signed by both the author and illustrator. Whoever inserted it into the book did a credible job, which fooled the bookseller and his customer. If the customer hadn’t wanted me to fix some very minor damage to the back cover, he would have gone on believing it was exactly what it was purported to be.”

  Donovan nodded. “I suspect he wasn’t too happy when you told him otherwise.”

  “Not in the least. Unfortunately, by the time I discovered the forgery, the bookseller had closed up shop and disappeared, so the man who had purchased it in good faith was out quite a sum of money.”

  “Caveat emptor,” Donovan replied with a brief smile.

  “Exactly.”

  They went on to discuss other cases they knew about until they finished dinner. Then Donovan excused himself, telling Jackson he had something he needed to take care of. “I’ll see you in the morning, before I go to work,” he said.

  “If you forget, I’ll ask Walton to show me the workroom.”

  “I did forget. I’ll show you now.”

  Donovan did, and Jackson told him it would suit him perfectly. When they got back upstairs, Jackson proceeded directly to the library while Donovan continued up to his bedroom to change clothes before leaving the house by the side door off the kitchen.

  Twenty minutes later—on foot because he enjoyed the solitary walk through the forested area surrounding his house—Donovan arrived at his destination. “How are they?” he asked the woman who greeted him when he entered the building.

  “Better than I’d have expected, all things considered. They’ve been cleaned up and fed, and now they’re sleeping. Barring complications, you should be able to pick them up sometime after ten, tomorrow. Do you want to see them?”

  When Donovan nodded, she took him into a room at the back of the building. He smiled when he saw the pair of pit bulls curled up together. “From the look of it, separating them won’t be an option, if I can help it,” he said softly so as not to awaken them.

  “I agree,” she replied once they’d left the room. “So do your best to see it doesn’t happen.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting, which got him an eye roll in return. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  On his way home, he made another stop. This time at a building set in a clearing at the rear of his property. He spent the next hour talking with his assistant, Noel, about the future of their charges as they visited each one of them. He told Noel about the condition of the two newest ones, whom Noel had met during the rescue.

  “I’ll bring them over in the morning,” Donovan said. “And do not tell me we don’t have room for them.”

  “When have I ever done that?” Noel replied, shaking his head. “Besides which, if things work out, we’ll be losing Reno. The Grahams are more than willing to take him in.”

  Donovan gave him a thumbs-up. “Where would we be without people like them?”

  Noel laughed. “With more rescues than we have room for?”

  “Unfortunately true. All right, I’ll see you and Susan in the morning.”

  Chapter 3

  As soon as breakfast was over and Donovan had left, Jax took the atlas and the three books he planned to restore down to the workroom. Since it was a nice day, he opened the windows to let in some fresh air. Then, laying out what he needed, he began working on the torn page of the atlas.

  He was totally involved in what he was doing, so it took a couple of moments for the sound of a dog’s barking to penetrate his consciousness. He checked out the windows but there wasn’t a dog anywhere in view. Intrigued, because as far as he knew Donovan didn’t own a one, he finished what he was doing and then went outside to the back yard. He saw something he hadn’t noticed from looking out his bedroom windows. Beside the three-car garage at the rear of the beautifully maintained grounds there was a well-worn path that led into the trees.

  Being the nosy sort, when it was safe to be, Jax decided to see where the path went and if it led to the dog, which was barking again—or rather baying, he decided, the way a bloodhound would. He wondered if the animal was trapped somewhere and hurt.

  Ten minutes later, Jax saw a clearing ahead of him surrounded by a chain link fence. In the center there was a low building, with cages lining the side facing him. It only took a moment for him to realize the cages were really kennels, each housing one or two dogs, with gates opening into the yard, and a door for each one leading into the building.

  When he got close enough, he saw a bloodhound raise its head. It bayed, again, at the same time that a young man with brown hair, a mustache, and a well-trimmed, short beard exited the building by the side door. Or he forgot to shave this morning. Jax figured that was a possibility. He knew he sometimes looked like he was starting a beard if he put off shaving out of laziness when he wasn’t working directly with a client.

  The young man stopped when he saw Jax, then came over, saying, “This is private property.”

  “I’d say that’s obvious from the fence. I heard the dog all the way back at Mr. Hayes’ home and decided to investigate. Sorry. I’ll get out of here.”

  �
�There’s no need to,” Donovan said, coming out of the building to join them. “Noel, this is Jackson Martin, the man I told you about who’s restoring some of my books.”

  “This is yours?” Jax asked in surprise, sweeping his arm around to encompass the area.

  Donovan nodded. “I rescue dogs, then give them a place to stay until we can find them either foster or permanent homes.”

  Given that Jax supported an animal shelter at home, he knew what that took and was impressed.

  Donovan opened the gate to let Jax into the yard. “Would you like the grand tour?” When Jax said he would, Donovan took him inside. There were cages lining both long walls, some empty, although Jax figured that was because the dogs were in the outside kennels. Others held a variety of dogs, ranging from large to small. They all looked well cared for, although it was obvious that some had been hurt or abused before they’d been saved by Donovan.

  “These are my most recent acquisitions,” Donovan said, kneeling in front of a cage holding two pit bulls that he said were around three years old. “They were running wild along a creek about ten miles from here and had been for at least a week according to people who saw them. Being pitties, no one was willing to try to capture them, so someone called us. It took almost two days before we could finally corral them. They’re inseparable, which, unfortunately, might make it hard for us to find them a home.”

  “And if you don’t?” Jax asked, crouching beside Donovan.

  “Then they’ll live out their days here. We may be small, but we’re still a no-kill shelter.”

  Standing, Jax glanced around. The place looked and smelled clean, each cage had a mat for sleeping, stainless steel feeding bowls, and a small variety of chew toys to keep the occupant entertained when he, or she, wasn’t outside. “Do you let them run free in the yard?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Noel said as he and a young woman joined them. “It would be inhumane to keep them locked up twenty-four-seven.”

  “I’m Susan,” the young woman said, then grinned. “Noel’s sister. I keep him and Donovan in line.”

  Noel snorted. “That’s her way of saying she’s very bossy when it comes to the dogs and what they need. I do the outreach, to find them homes, when,” he gave her a mock glare, “she isn’t making me clean cages and what have you.”

  “Speaking of which, it’s not cleaning, but…” Susan said, “Sherlock needs some exercise before his baying brings down the cops to ticket us for excessive noise.”

  “On it,” Noel replied. “That wouldn’t really happen,” he assured Jax. “We’re too far from any neighbors for them to be annoyed, even by Sherlock.”

  “I’ll admit, this is not what I expected when I was trying to find the noisy dog,” Jax said to Donovan. “I thought maybe it was injured and needed help.”

  “That speaks well of you,” Donovan replied as he opened the door of the cage holding the two pit bulls. “Too many people,” he said as he hitched leashes to their collars, “would prefer to ignore it rather than take the chance they might have to go out of their way to save an animal in need.”

  “How the hell did you get into doing this? It certainly goes counter to the front you put up of a rich dilettante who dabbles in collecting and selling books.”

  Donovan laughed. “It’s not a front. I am rich, and I do dabble, so to speak, in the selling end of it, since I don’t have to earn a living. It gives me something to do, although I’ll admit my assistant at the shop does a great deal more to keep it running than I do. I put in an appearance once or twice a week, especially when he lets me know someone had a book, or books, that might be worth the price they’re asking. By that I mean the kind the shop specializes in.”

  “Antiquarian, I presume,” Jax said, although he already knew that.

  “Exactly.” Donovan and the dogs went to a door at the far end of the building from where he and Jax had entered. “I’m going to walk them if you’d care to come along.”

  “Not quite what you’re paying me to do, but sure.”

  The door opened onto a paved lot which held two cars and an older van with a heavy screen separating the passenger seat from the back area. “This is what you use to do rescues?” Jax asked about the van.

  “Yes.”

  “It would make a good vehicle if you were planning on kidnapping someone,” Jax said. “Before you get upset, I was only teasing.” Which he had been. There’s a lot of things I’ll do. Kidnapping isn’t one of them.

  “I would hope so,” Donovan replied with some asperity.

  The dogs were eager to get moving; especially the one Donovan had named Argyle. She tugged the leash then looked back at the men as if to say, “What’s the hold up?”

  Donovan chuckled. “You wouldn’t think that less than a day ago they were lost and running scared from anyone who tried to approach them.”

  “Have you checked to see if someone’s missing them?” Jax asked.

  “Yes. They aren’t chipped and they weren’t wearing collars. Our vet has put out the word about them, but last heard no one’s reported them missing. My guess is someone dumped them because they couldn’t control them and were afraid to try. With the reputation pit bulls have…” Donovan shook his head in disgust.

  Max, the other dog, seemed to be more laid back, walking relatively sedately beside Donovan as they wound their way through the trees. If Jax were a dog person, and he was, he might have considered adopting one of them. When he said as much, Donovan reminded him that they would only go out as a pair. “Whether they’re siblings or merely two dogs who found comfort in each other, separating them would be unconscionable.”

  “It’s just as well. With all the traveling I do, it wouldn’t be fair for me to have any sort of pet.”

  “Restoring books keeps you that busy?” Donovan asked.

  “It does if I want to maintain my life-style, as it were.”

  Donovan grinned. “As a rich and famous playboy?”

  Jax shrugged, wondering how much Donovan knew about him. From what he’d just said, perhaps more than Jax liked. “Hardly famous,” he replied. “And rarely a playboy.”

  “I was kidding about you being a playboy. You are well-known within the book community for your restoration skills. It’s why I hired you.”

  “If I’m going to maintain that reputation, I should get back to work,” Jax replied. He leaned down to pat Max’s head, pulling his hand back before the dog could lick it. “I don’t need to be slobbered on, dog,” he explained when Max looked at him in dismay.

  At that point, they were back at the kennels. Noel was in the yard, watching several dogs scampering around. He came over to tell Donovan that Susan wanted to talk with him. Jax took that as his cue to leave, which he did. As he closed the fence gate he glanced back and saw Noel watching him. The man quickly turned away, but not before Jax saw the puzzled expression on his face.

  Now what was that all about, and do I want to know? Probably not, he decided, but still, it was a bit worrisome.

  * * * *

  Donovan arrived back at the house late that afternoon. When he came into the workroom, Jax handed him the closed atlas, saying, “What do you think?”

  It took Donovan a few moments to find what had been the damaged pages. “You’ve done a fantastic job,” he said when he did. “No one would ever know something happened to them.”

  Jax chuckled. “That is the idea. Tomorrow I’ll start on those.” He gestured to the three books whose covers needed some work. “I’ll do my best not to take too long. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make more money at your expense.”

  “I’ve already told you I was going to ask you to do what other repairs you decided were needed, if you had the time. If I thought you would try to scam me, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place.”

  “Fair enough.” Jax began putting away his tools, asking casually, “How long have Noel and Susan been working for your shelter?”

  “Since I started it, three ye
ars ago. I don’t know what I’d do without them. Susan worked for our vet and when I began talking about opening a shelter she asked if she could be involved.” Donovan grinned. “For a while there I thought I might have to find a new vet. She was not happy when I stole Susan away, to use her words. Noel had just quit his job with a consulting firm and was at loose ends, so she insisted he be part of the package. As he said, he does outreach to find homes for the dogs as well as helping Susan run the place.”

  “Sounds like you got lucky.”

  “Indeed I did,” Donovan replied. “Okay, I’d better go change my clothes before dinner.”

  “Is that a hint that I should, too?” Jax asked. Since he was in his usual work attire of jeans and a T-shirt, it was a logical question he figured.

  Donovan shook his head. “I think we’re past the formalities. If I didn’t smell like dog, I wouldn’t.”

  Jax made a pretense of sniffing, earning a laugh from Donovan. “All right. The jeans stay, although I will put on a decent shirt,” he said.

  When he arrived in the living room twenty minutes later, he saw that Donovan had heeded his own words. He had on a clean pair of jeans and a casual shirt. As always, he asked Jax if he wanted a pre-dinner drink, and made them when Jax said he wouldn’t turn one down.

  The rest of the evening progressed as the previous two had—dinner in the small dining room before Donovan left to return to the shelter. Jax took advantage of his being gone to spend time online talking with a couple of his less than legitimate contacts. What he found out from one of them piqued his interest, so he did some research. By the time he finished he knew what his next job would be, and it didn’t have anything to do with restoration work.