may you learn from it.’ That’s the message of his Essay. His theories of government don’t mean anything without his theory of human nature.”
“Yes, I know the epitaph. But he was a dying man when he wrote it. He’d lost his objectivity. What would you put on your tombstone, Charles?”
“Maybe the same as Locke. I hadn’t thought about it. What about you, Derek?”
“Do you mean when I’m in my dotage and trying to curry favor in the next world?”
“Oh, let’s say what you’d write now, still at the brazen height of your intellectual powers. If you were to die unexpectedly tonight, what would you want written as your memorial?”
“I would take the first part of Locke’s, that says that ‘His virtues were too few to mention, and may his faults die with him,’ and paraphrase it.”
“How?”
“Virtue and vice are too subjective. I would take modern properties that I value: ‘His knowledge of his fellow man was too great to describe, and may it die with him.’ ”
TUESDAY MORNING
“Good morning, Alice.”
She beamed at him like the morning sun. “Good morning, Mr. Beale. Good morning, Mrs. Beale.”
Charles climbed the stairs to the office. Morgan was already in his nook.
“On the hunt?” Charles asked.
“Yes, sir. There’s an auction in San Francisco next month.”
“Let me see.” Charles stood over Morgan’s shoulder and looked at the list. “A few things. I might call Jacob and see if he’s going. Do you see anything we need?”
“I’ll check against inventory. This is what’s up on eBay since yesterday. And Briary Roberts just put a bunch of new stuff on their website.”
“Did we sell anything?”
“Three volumes. Nothing big. I’ll mail them this afternoon.”
“Carry on.”
Dorothy was just sitting at her desk. Charles plopped down at his and opened the newspaper.
“Do you have plans for the day?” she asked.
It was in the morning that her voice was the most musical. “Tell me what you’ll be doing,” Charles said.
“I’ll finish this set of invoices and then I’m going to call Wilhelmina Stratton about the banquet Saturday evening. We have to start on the fall catalog this week… Charles, are you listening?”
His eyes were closed. “Of course, dear.”
“Then what did I say?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I just like to hear you talk. Your voice is a symphony to me, your words are pure notes-”
“Would you empty the trash, please?” Dorothy said.
He sat up. “First I need to read it.” He opened the newspaper and scanned the front page.
“Anything?” Dorothy said.
“What a sordid world.” He folded the paper and dropped it in the wastebasket. “What a human world. It’s all scandals and failings.”
“There’s more to it than the front page of the Washington Post.”
“Yes, there are other sections, but they are all still human.”
“What in the world else would there be? Don’t you have enough to do, Charles?”
“I have plenty to do.”
“Because if you don’t, you could file these invoices.”
“I would love to, but I really have quite a bit to do.”
“I was just asking.”
Charles found his telephone book and looked up a number.
“Thank you for calling the office of Congresswoman Karen Liu,” the telephone said.
“You’re welcome. My name is Charles Beale, and I would like to meet with the congresswoman.”
“Mr. Beale, is there anything I can help you with?”
“No, I’m sorry. It would need to be with her.”
“She’s very busy, of course.” The voice was very polite. “Are you from her district in California?”
“No,” Charles said. “I’m not a constituent, and I’m not a lobbyist or reporter.”
“What would you want to discuss with the congresswoman?”
“I was a friend of a man named Derek Bastien, who died several months ago. He worked in the Justice Department.”
The voice did not realize for a moment that Charles had finished his turn.
“Are you with the Justice Department?” it finally asked.
“No. I’m not with the government. I’m a bookseller, actually.”
That was enough for the voice to be finished with the conversation. “Mr. Beale, let me take your number and I’ll pass it on to her chief of staff. She is very busy, though, and she is usually not available.”
“I’m not sure if you’re serious,” Dorothy said after he’d hung up.
“I am.”
“You didn’t give any good reason she should take time to meet you.”
“I hope I didn’t. And now I am going to visit Norman Highberg.”
“You’re going to Georgetown?”
“I need the exercise.”
“I thought you had too much to do.”
“This is one of the things.”
“Then have a nice morning. I know better than to ask you questions when you don’t want to answer.”
“I don’t have any answers. And I think it’s important to find some.”
The well-worn walk to the Metro station past the urban townhouses of Prince Street, and the bland Metro ride under the Potomac, brought Charles finally to the even more urban townhouses of Georgetown. The streets weren’t very different from Alexandria, just wider and with more cars and more city and more important-looking people. The Capitol and the White House weren’t far away; Georgetown was a closer planet to the sun and less likely to have its own native life.
Charles chose a doorway.
“Good morning. Is Mr. Highberg in?”
The young thing behind the counter gaped. “I don’t know.”
“Go find out.”
The young thing went and Charles was alone to stroll. Somehow, it was a very nice showroom. Every manner of upscale antique was there, except of course furniture and books. Crystal sparkled, silver shone, wood glowed, and not an item was less than two hundred dollars or more than three thousand.
“Charles! What are you doing here?”
“You need to work on your customer service, Norman,” Charles said.
“You’re not a customer. What do you want?”
“I’m quite well, thank you. How are you?”
“Great except for taxes.” The frames of his bulky glasses were as shiny and black as his hair. The lenses were smudged with gray fingerprints, and the hair was smudged with just gray. “My accountant just sent me last month’s report. Taxes are killing me. You need an accountant? This guy’s my brother-in-law and he’s looking for clients.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“What are taxes in Virginia? It must be better than here. This place, you walk around with the mayor’s hand in your pocket. You put a dollar in and he takes it out. You aren’t a customer, right? Or maybe you are. Are you
