We all began working methodically, side by side, using Martha’s digital tablet, choosing books at random because of the collection’s sheer size. Each time we thought we had a book with potential, she hit antique book sites to verify. She also crosschecked past and present book auctions. But no book seemed to approach that high-end value worth someone bothering to go out of their way to orchestrate possible Internet and phone hacking.
Martha discovered that Amazon’s website had over a million rare, first edition, signed, out-of-print collectable books. She also flipped to their sister site, AbeBooks, which had an assortment of antique book categories:
Signed Books
First Editions
Book Appraisers
Rare Book Seller Directory...
Additional categories with photos plus double-checking against those lists made verifying more efficient. Martha kept busy researching then periodically read aloud to us.
“Get this. According to AbeBooks, ‘a book is considered rare when demand is greater than supply. Collectors and dealers also consider factors like the condition of the book, the importance of it and the demand for it.’”
“Then it’s subjective,” I said. “There’s no exact formula. Market demand plays a huge roll. That means we shouldn’t solely be focusing on the age of the books. It doesn’t mean they aren’t valuable, but let’s find one that stands out as far as being rare because it’s demand dwarfs all the others.”
“Exactly!” agreed Martha, looking down to read again. “Wow! AbeBooks has antique books ranging in price from $1.00 to $10,000,000.00!”
We all stood there openmouthed.
“Oh, my!” said a shocked Betty.
Hazel glanced around at the Worths’ vast collection.
“Who knew?”
No one said anything, digesting that tidbit.
I scanned the sheer volume of books surrounding us.
“I’d say that’s even worth killing over.”
“Keep moving folks,” ordered Martha.
The incentive to find it first and protect it was on...
Chapter 30
Loose Lips Ain’t Sinking This Ship
It was a balmy evening. A few kitchen windows were open to a gentle temperate breeze that billowed the curtains every so often. The long French rectangular table was set for nine. It would be an odd assortment assembled: Martha, Hazel, Betty, Yours Truly, Clay, Mona, Teddy, Scarlett, and finally, Tony, at Clay’s insistence.
Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, Clay said.
I don’t know exactly what Clay thought he was going to achieve, but I finally agreed after he remarked it was the perfect opportunity to try to observe everyone’s interaction toward each other. And once wine and conversation began flowing, we might pick up possible traces of deception.
Martha’s take? Loose lips sunk ships, so drink up.
The buffet was a favorite: Glazed duck in orange sauce, salad, almond string beans, scalloped potatoes, and a French baguette. White and red wine would be served: Santa Rita Reserva Sauvignon Blanc: Chile and Campo Viejo Rioja Reserva: California, but first Veuve Clicquot Champagne.
Hazel lit the tall candles, Betty dimmed the lights, and Clay turned on some soft jazz. I motioned to him to turn it low so the music wouldn’t interfere with the conversation. I wanted to hear what everyone had to say.
Apparently, not much.
Over hors d'oeuvres of shrimp, mini teriyaki meatballs and almonds, I noticed uneasiness among the group. With the exception of our crew, the others were mostly silent, concentrating on the food, giving one-syllable yes or no answers. I was hoping that by the time we sat for dinner maybe they’d be more relaxed. They weren’t.
So far, this had signs of disaster written all over it.
Once seated, Martha offered a toast.
“To our hostess, Samantha!”
Everyone dutifully smiled, nodded and sipped.
But she kept going. “To her solving this next mystery!”
I spilled my drink, Betty choked, and Hazel coughed.
Clay just glared at Martha. She tossed him back a grin.
Mona covered her mouth with her napkin.
Tony smiled and raised his glass. “The hunt is on!”
Was he referring to that valuable book or his mother?
Teddy silently gulped his wine and motioned for more.
Scarlett said, “Y’awl have Southern Comfort instead?”
“Have you finished your questions, Scarlett?” I asked.
She tinged pink. “I uh, think so. Pertinent ones too.”
Then I turned to Teddy. “And how are you feeling?”
“Much better. Thanks.”
Mona patted him on the back. “He’s a real champ.”
He smiled then carefully began to eat, avoiding his lip.
No one seemed in a talkative mood. I wondered why?
Martha, the provocateur, cleared her throat and spoke.
“Tony, how’s your momma’s trigger finger doing?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Hasn’t shot at anybody lately.”
Everyone cracked up. She’d finally broken the ice.
Chapter 31
Trailing The Truth
Tony said to Scarlett. “I hear you like mysteries?”
She gushed, “I’m Samantha’s biggest fan!”
Tony caught my eye. “I must admit, I am now too.”
My turn to tinge pink. “Why thank you both.”
“Yup, solving them is her specialty,” said Martha.
Teddy turned to me. “How do you figure them out?”
“Deceptive people eventually get too confident, trip up and give themselves away by talking too much and making contradicting remarks. I keep track of their mounting lies.”
“How?”
“With Internet search engines, profiles and habits can be followed, your whereabouts with GPS on cells and cars can be detected. Information can be gathered, like credit cards, licenses, etc. Our assumed veil of privacy no longer exists. For a price you can get just about anything on anybody.”
No one said anything as my response sunk in.
Then Scarlett asked, “Are you saying it’s easier with more information out there today, versus back in the day?”
“More electronic info today, less legwork,” I said.
Scarlett nodded. “Making it easier to track, convict...”
“What if false information is out there?” posed Teddy.
“I admit that’s also a problem,” I said. “People spread rumors, make many false accusations, and report erroneous information about someone on the Internet. I rely on credible sources that I can depend on. There are those I can trust and those I don’t. I still have to do so-called legwork, but electronically and mostly with my fingers instead.”
“What if someone has no other choice?” Tony asked.
All eyes honed in on Tony with his odd segue.
“...What do you mean, no other choice?” I asked.
“About what someone feels they must do,” he replied.
Tony wasn’t talking solving them, but committing them.
“As in being coerced or trapped?” I asked.
“In a way, yes. Like there’s no alternative,” he said.
“There’s frequently an alternative,” said Hazel.
“In all cases?” Scarlett asked.
“Trust me, there are exceptions,” Tony replied.
“You’re either guilty or not guilty,” Betty said firmly.
“A side bet on potential crimes anyone?” Mona joked.
“Hypotheticals versus reality. Interesting,” said Teddy.
We all stared at vanity-conscious Teddy.
Like Tony, maybe Teddy was smarter than I thought.
“Nothing intangible about theft or murder,” I said.
“People leave two kinds of fingerprints,” said Clay. He then leaned in for emphasis, adding, “Physical and digital.”
Tony tapped his head. �
��What about considering it.”
“You don’t get arrested for the thinking, just the doing.”
“And now for all your just desserts!” I said serving it up.
“Ha! You meant physical not justifiable,” said Scarlett.
“Boy, I’d be arrested for some of mine,” said Martha.
Pulling out the rug on this one wouldn’t be easy...
Chapter 32
Non-digital Footprints
I had an eerie feeling the previous evening someone was eavesdropping on our conversation and could have sworn I saw a shadowy figure outside the porte cochere end of the room. I was sitting at the head of the wide table with Clay, so I was facing that direction. Was it just moonlit shadows? Was someone there? Was I mistaken? Instinct told me no, I wasn’t. If that was the case, could someone on the outside be working with someone on the inside? Because of that, I said nothing. I would watch and wait.
Could that someone have been Tony’s mother?
I was walking along those same windows, but outside, while sipping my morning cup of coffee, pretending to admire the flowerbed, but really checking for footprints. I still felt this was one bet I would have taken with Mona last night had she asked. I stopped short. I wasn’t imagining it.
There, squashed flowers right by that window that was open last night. I doubted deer caused it. They wouldn’t come this close to the windows: too noisy with us talking. Besides, there weren’t any chewed up plants. There weren’t any that were eaten anywhere, just those flattened flowers.
“Looking for something?” a voice asked behind me.
I jumped in place, startled by who snuck up on me.
It was Lucas, smiling his usual smile, while carrying his bucket filled to the brim. Today it was filled with garden tools. He was wearing dark sunglasses so I couldn’t see his eyes to tell the true intent of his words. Usually I can read people, but this guy I couldn’t get a bead on.
Although I saw and verified his license at the start, was this the real Lucas standing there? The harmless individual he portrayed to us? Or was he something else entirely? There were others that fooled me at the start of my sleuthing. In time my suspects’ veneers wore thin, and it was only then I got a glimpse of what simmered below the surface. Was he just a friendly, harmless groundskeeper?
Or was Tony’s mother the one behind all these threats? Was she crazy enough to go after something in this house to recoup her art loss she felt was owed her? Was she still angry? Add to that Tony’s bizarre inferences last night at the dinner table and it was confusing as to who was behind these escalating threats. Did they include Tony or not?
“I was admiring your flowerbeds, but it seems a deer or some other animal trampled some of your lovely flowers.”
He looked down to where I was staring then back at me.
“You’d be surprised by what lurks out here at night.”
“They must see and hear more than they bargained for.”
He laughed again. “You might be right.”
I left it at that. I didn’t want him doubting my intent.
“I think I need another cup of coffee. Too much wine last night,” I said turning to leave.
I could’ve sworn I heard a reply. I turned back to Lucas, but his face was unreadable: a complete blank.
Was I glimpsing at all there was to this man?
“Catch you later,” I said turning away again.
“I can’t wait to read your next mystery,” he called out.
Laughing lightly, I said, “Once I solve it, neither can I.”
I heard a chuckle behind me as I walked inside.
Lucas seemed harmless, but you never know...
Tony and his mother, who had resurfaced, were another snag that made me uncomfortable to say the least.
Chapter 33
Online & More
I was making another cup of coffee at the coffee maker when someone said, “Hurry up. I’m desperate.”
Mona looked like hell. The minute I filled my cup, she gently but firmly shoved me aside to make one for herself.
“He snored louder than a buzz saw,” she said irritably.
I tried not to laugh, but failed. “Broken nose and all?”
In response, she gave me an arched brow.
I returned one of my own. “What’d you expect? He’s drugged all the time. And last night, all the wine he had. He shouldn’t have drank to begin with. You didn’t stop him.”
“Bad enough I listen to his moaning,” she countered.
“I haven’t heard complaints on those fringe benefits.”
“Well, he did keep me distracted previously...”
“Seriously, you think he’s as harmless as he lets on?”
“I thought about that and dug deeper.”
“How, if he gave you an alias?”
“I dug into his wallet,” she said grinning.
“Good move.”
“Should have done it sooner, but my attention was...”
“I know, distracted before his unfortunate accident.”
“No reason to check Teddy further after he came clean to Martha about why he was here. Plus, at the hospital his insurance card went through and the nurse kept calling him Mr. Pirelli. But after last night at the dinner table, I got curious to know more about him. I can’t explain it, but something didn’t feel right. So I decided to tear apart his wallet. Initially he told me his name was Teddy Pirelli.”
“And now you know that wasn’t exactly true.”
“His license read Anton T. Pirelli.”
“There’s something more, isn’t there?”
“Something more interesting.”
“What?”
“He hails from Tony’s neighborhood.”
“Are we talking same town?”
“Yes. I’m thinking possibly connected like Tony.”
“Well, he hasn’t done anything yet, has he?” I asked.
“That’s just it. No. Plus, I asked around and made a few side calls to my people. No convictions under that name.”
“He could just be a naïve actor/model like he claimed.”
Mona laughed. “Who got innocently caught up in this?”
“Not likely, huh? Especially after he lied to you.”
Like I’ve said before, I didn’t know, nor did I want to know who Mona’s people were. As long as I was never arrested in the process, I was good to go.
“Oh!” said Mona. “Miss Scarlett complained you’re out of Southern Comfort. Want me to go buy some for you?”
“Would you, Mona? That would be great.”
“You do realize you’d have to babysit you-know-who.”
I had books to inspect... “When are his next pills due?”
“Don’t worry,” said Mona. “I just gave them to him.”
Chapter 34
Sleep My Pretty One
I snuck upstairs to check on our patient to make sure he was resting and not wandering around. After that I planned to text Clay, who had already left with Tony again when I woke up. But he needed to hear this latest news about Teddy.
I listened at Teddy’s bedroom door. All was silent. I still thought it prudent to check anyway. I quietly turned his doorknob, opened it slightly and peered into the dimly lit room. I blinked then blinked again. No one was in the bed. I listened to the adjoining bath. No noise.
Where was he?
When I stepped further into the room I heard the door abruptly close shut behind me with a click. I spun around. Teddy was grinning, standing between me and my exit out.
After hearing about the latest from Mona on this guy, to say I was a little uneasy was underscoring it.
“Mona asked me to make sure you were okay,” I said.
“I appreciate all the concern.”
He had no idea how concerned I was, cornered in this darkened room with a very suspicious-seeming person.
“Have you seen through anyone’s façade yet?” he asked.
Now, I could take that t
wo ways. He was feeling me out about what I knew or he was still hung up on last night’s conversation at dinner. He swayed slightly. I eyed the door.
I made light of it. “Didn’t know you spoke French.”
He grinned with a slight bow. “Pretense is my forte.”
I laughed nervously. “Ah, another French word.”
“Ever the clever sleuth you are! Don’t miss a thing.”
“I try not to.”
“I should read one of your mysterious tomes.”
I froze in place.
Now, why use that particular word? Why not book?
Suddenly he gave a loud yawn.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired all the time. Mona keeps giving me these vitamin energy drinks too.”
Ah, so that was how she gave him added sleep cocktails.
“You really should get some rest.”
He abruptly moved forward. Nervous, I dodged. Then I realized I was blocking his destination: his bed. He barely made falling into it, rolled over, and was asleep in seconds.
“Good boy. Sleep my pretty one. Stay out of trouble.”
I then hastily made my way out and shut the door.
He didn’t appear to be much of a threat in this condition. Maybe he wasn’t a real danger at all. Maybe he changed his name to be an actor and model to get out of the ‘hood.
And maybe I was way off base.
Chapter 35
A Sense Of Humor?
Now working in the great room and sorting through the books, my senior trio were proving to be invaluable when it came to deciphering and relegating what books were worth separating from the others.
Betty handed one to Martha. “All those years Hazel and I worked in Clay’s Aunt Jenny’s bookshop helps big time.”
“From being librarians to Jenny then Clay,” said Hazel.
Martha opened another book. “Let’s hope that pays off and we don’t miss something we shouldn’t.”
“I know, I’d hate to have a redo on this room,” I said.
“It could happen. That’s why we shouldn’t rush through this process. We have to be thorough,” said Hazel.
The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) Page 7
