Booked to die

“Bigger than that,” I said.

Ruby’s eyes went into mock astonishment. “You mean like maybe he found Tamerlane in the Goodwill? Something like that, Dr. J?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re kidding.”

They had stopped grinning now and were hanging on my next words. I let them wait, and finally Neff stepped into the breach.

“That’s been done. Remember the guy who found Tamerlane in a bookstore for fifteen dollars a few years ago? Do you know what the odds are of that happening, anywhere in the world, twice in a lifetime?”

“I’m not talking about Tamerlane,” I said. “Just maybe something like it.”

They both looked at me.

“What’s going on, Dr. J?”

“Somebody beat Bobby’s brains out last night.”

“Holy Christ,” Ruby said.

“Killed him, you mean,” Neff said numbly.

I nodded.

“Now who the hell would do that?” Ruby said.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Let’s go back to what I asked you. When was the last time Bobby had a big strike?”

“Oh, hell, I can’t remember,” Ruby said. “Jesus, Dr. J, this’s terrible.”

“You’re asking us when Bob might’ve had something somebody would kill him for,” Neff said.

“Let’s make like I’m asking you that.”

“Hell, never,” Ruby said.

Neff nodded immediately. “Even that big score he made a few years back, when he found all four of those big books in one weekend…I mean, that’s the biggest score any of them ever make, and all four of those books don’t add up to more than two grand. Who’d kill a guy for that?”

“Some people, maybe,” I said.

“Nobody I know,” Ruby said. “Goddamn, this’s terrible. I can’t get over it.”

“Let’s say he had something worth two or three thousand,” I said. “That’s a lot of money to guys on the street.”

“It’s a lot of money to me,” Ruby said.

“But to a guy who lives like they live, it’s more money than you’ll ever see again in one place.”

“You think that’s what happened… Bobby found something and some other bookscout took it away from him?”

“I don’t think anything,” I said. “I’m trying to find out something and put it together with what I know. It’s unlikely Bobby found anything worth a real fortune. You said so yourself. Pieces like Tamerlane don’t just drop off trees into somebody’s lap. The reason they’re worth a quarter of a million dollars is because there are no copies out there to be found. A guy would have a better chance of winning the Irish Sweepstakes, right?”

“I’d give him a better chance,” Ruby said.

“And yet it happens.”

“In movies it happens.”

“Once in a while it really happens.”

“I’d sure hate to chase that down,” Ruby said. “Talk about a needle in a goddamn haystack.”

“On the other hand, if Bobby found something worth a few thousand, you’d have to ask yourself a different set of questions. Anybody might kill for a quarter of a million, but who’d kill for three grand?”

“Three grand wouldn’t begin to solve my problems,” Ruby said. “Hell, I owe the sheriff more than that.”

“But it’s a lot of money to a bookscout,” I said.

“I see what you’re saying.”

“So,” I said, “who did Bobby go around with?”

“Well, there’s Peter. I’ve seen the two of ‘em walking together, that’s all. Doesn’t mean they were fast and tight. Other than that, old Bob ran alone. I’ve never seen him with anybody else.”

“Who’s Peter?”