“Is this another gust of wind?”
“It’s the one that blew me past Norman. And there was another breeze, too, that I think I’ll send Angelo after. But first, I have to check up on my judge scandal.”
“The man in the newspaper? And why are you interested in that?”
“I’m not sure. There is just something about him. Ah, he’s only page six now.” He skimmed paragraphs.
“Anything?”
“No. The reporter just wants to keep the story alive. Maybe he gets paid by the sneer.”
“There’s obviously some audience.”
“Who would read this?”
“You are.”
“I mean, besides me.”
“Which brings up my original question. Why are you reading it?”
“Because… because… because it is a man who has been ruined by a piece of paper.”
“What piece of paper?”
“Someone told the Washington Post about this cheating back in law school. I don’t know if it was really a piece of paper or what, but that one little piece of information has destroyed him.”
“There wouldn’t have been a piece of paper if he hadn’t done anything.”
“But who hasn’t?” He smiled. “Besides you, I mean.”
“I’m not perfect, Charles, but I don’t think I have any scandals hidden away.”
“Then you are the exception, and besides, I think you are perfect. But just think what would happen if that paper about Karen Liu were sent to the Post?”
“The same thing that happened to the judge.”
“At least. That is why I am reading about what has happened to him. It seems important to know.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“Because you are perfect, dear, and I would think of it because I am not.”
“I never know how to answer when you say things like that,” Dorothy said.
“That’s why I do it. When you recover, I want to tell you about Lucy.”
“When I recover, I will need to go out for the rest of the afternoon. However, I will look forward to another cup of coffee sometime very soon.”
Charles knocked. Voices muttered from within. There was a scream, and a crash, then gunshots. Then silence.
The door opened with a sinister creak.
“Hey, boss,” Angelo said. “What do you want?”
“I have a job for you.”
Angelo turned off the tiny television and sat on his bed. “Okay, what is it?”
“It is a little complicated. May I come in?”
“It’s your house.”
Angelo’s room was perfectly neat, although it would have been difficult to make a mess with the few possessions he had.
“It’s your room, though,” Charles said. He sat on the one chair.
“What job do you have?”
“I would like to find that woman I’ve asked you about.”
Angelo shook his head. “Hey, boss, you start looking for people, they hear about it and you get lots of trouble.”
“I only want to know who she is.”
“There is something she has that you want?”
“I just want to find her, that’s all.”
Angelo shrugged and offered no further advice. “Where’s she hang out?”
“Take this list.” Charles spoke slowly. “Somebody hired that woman to be at the auction on Monday.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe, they got her name from this list.”
“This doesn’t have any name of a lady.”
“No. It is a list of agents. Some of them are just individuals. Some of them are partnerships. Some of them are dealers who have regular businesses.”
“Dealers. You want to be looking for dealers? That’s not good, boss.”
“They aren’t that kind of dealer. They’re antiques dealers or jewelers or art dealers.”
“They’re dealers,” Angelo said. “Dealers you should stay away.”
“I’m a dealer, Angelo. I can handle them. Now this is what I want you to do. I want you to go to each of these businesses that you can and look for that woman.”
“You want me looking? I told that judge I wouldn’t do any of that.”
“This is not criminal, Angelo. You’re just looking for her.”
“You tell me to, so it’s okay?”
“It’s okay.”
“How do I look? Look in a window? Look how?”
“This is where you get to practice your manners. Mrs. Beale and I think you need to learn proper professional behavior. Go to each place and go inside. Talk to the people. Look around and ask questions. See if this woman works there.”
Angelo was processing. “These people in buildings, they don’t talk to me. You they talk to, they don’t talk to me.”
“I think you can do it. Wear your good clothes. Be polite.”
Again he shrugged. “But you don’t want her to know you’re looking?”
“That’s right. Good. You understand.”
“So for why do I say I’m asking them?”
“We’ll think of something. We’ll try the first one together tomorrow.”
“Mr. Beale?” Angelo’s door had just closed. “You have a telephone call. A Mr. Galen Jones.”
“Oh, good! Thank you, Alice. I’ll be right there.”
He hurried back down to the office. “Yes, hello, this is Charles Beale.”
“Right.” A deep voice, gravelly, but it didn’t sound like a big person. “I got a message you called?”
“Yes, I did. Thank you for calling back. Mr. Jones, I was a friend of a man named Derek Bastien. I’ve heard you may have known him?”
Charles waited.
“What do you want?” the voice asked.
“Well, to talk. Either on the phone, or to meet with you.”
“Right.” Another wait. “Who are you?”
“I sell books. Antique books. I sold some to Derek. That’s really all. And I heard your name, and a little more than that about you, and I wanted to talk.”
“Talk about what? Look, do you want some work done?”
“No. I just want to talk. About Derek Bastien.”
A long wait. “Okay, I’ll talk. I’ll come see you. Where are you?”
“At my shop right now. In Alexandria. I’ll give you the address.”
“I’ll be there this afternoon.”
Charles had only set the telephone down when it rang again. By reflex, he picked it up again, without waiting for Alice to get it.
“Alexandria Rare Books, this is Charles Beale.”
“Answering your own phone?”
“Oh, hello, Jacob. How are you?”
The rusted, squeaking hinge of a voice answered, “Better than you are if you’ve lost all your help there.”
“I haven’t. I just had a feeling who it was, and I didn’t want to inflict them with you.”
“Someday you’ll learn respect for your elders.”
