I leveled the gun and ripped open the door.
He let out a yell and cringed back against the stairwell.
“Jesus Christ, Dr. J! God Almighty, don’t shoot me!”
I sighed and put the gun away. “Ruby, what the hell are you doing here?”
He held up his hand and with the other hand clutched his heart. “Jesus, you scared me out of ten years’ growth. You better let me come in and take a leak before I lose it right here in the hall.”
“Not in here you don’t. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came up to see if I could help.”
I looked at him.
“Swear to God, Dr. J. I was over to some friends, shootin‘ the shit and listenin’ to some old Dylan records. We just broke up. I drove by and saw the light on and I figured it was you. Thought you might be able to use a hand, you know, from somebody who’s been around the Cape and knows his books.“
“You know better than that. Look, I appreciate the thought, but you can’t come in here. I thought I made that clear this afternoon.”
“Yeah, but the cops’ve already gone through the place. What do I know about po-lice procedure. I just thought a question might pop up that you couldn’t pin down for yourself. The last thing I want to do is get in the way. I want you to catch the prick that did this, that’s all I want.”
“All right, Ruby. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Took ten years off my goddamn life is all.”
“Just stay away from here. Don’t even think of stopping here again. If I need any help, I’ll come to you.”
“That’s all I want, just to help out. You know how tricky this stuff can be, trying to figure out what’s what in books. I know you’re pretty good, Dr. J, but a real bookman could maybe help you knock some time off the clock.”
“All right,” I said. “I’ll call you if I need you.”
“You think it’d be okay if I took a leak? I got a sudden urgent need, Dr. J, and that’s no lie.”
“I’ll have to watch you.”
“Hey, I ain’t proud.”
I walked him through to the bathroom. I lifted the lid on the toilet and stood back in the doorway while he did his business. His eyes ran down the book titles on the back of the toilet, a natural bookseller’s habit.
“Some crap,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He zipped up his pants and flushed the toilet. “Thanks, Dr.J.”
We walked back to the door. Suddenly, I said, “What do you know about Rita McKinley?”
“The ice lady?”
“Is that what you call her?”
“That’s what everybody calls her. Once every year or so she makes a sweep through all the Denver stores. Drops a ton of dough. Buys anything unusual but cherry-picks like hell. She’s got the best eye I’ve ever seen. Won’t touch a book with a bumped corner, no matter how much it’s got going for it. She won’t take anything that’s got even a little problem, but doesn’t mind paying top money for those perfect pieces.”
“And that, I guess, is why she’s called the ice lady.”
“That’s part of it. The other part is that people in the trade think she’s got a cold shoulder. She don’t stand over the counter engaging in mindless bullshit. She don’t seem to be interested in shoptalk at all.”
“How do you like her?”
“Man, I love her. I wish she’d come twice a week; maybe then I could get out of the poorhouse. She’s not bad-looking, either. Brightens up the joint while she’s in there.”
“How come I never heard of her before today?”
“Beats me. Maybe ‘cause she don’t do retail.”
“How long’s she been here?”
“In Denver? I don’t know, a few years I guess.”
“Where’d she come from?”
“Back east, I think. Hell, I don’t know. I don’t exactly ask her this stuff when she comes in.”
“When was she in last?”
“It’s been a while… maybe a year? Longer than usual. I remember that last time because we had some great
