The Collectors

“I sort of let it slip to Freddy a little about your history.”

She stood. “How much of my history?”

“Your last name, your stuff with Paddy.”

She screamed into the phone, “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“I know, I know, it was stupid. It just came up. I just wanted him to know that you weren’t like your old man. But I didn’t tell Tony. I’m not that dumb.”

“Thanks, Leo, thanks a hell of a lot.”

She clicked off and stood in the middle of the room. Freddy knew her last name and also that her father was Paddy Conroy, Jerry Bagger’s mortal enemy. If Jerry got to him, he’d make Freddy talk. And then the man would come for her, and she could predict her fate with reasonable accuracy. Jerry would feed her into a wood chipper body part by body part.

Annabelle started packing her bag. Sorry, Jonathan.

When Caleb returned to his condo later that night, he found someone waiting for him out in the parking lot.

“Mr. Pearl, what are you doing here?”

Vincent Pearl didn’t look like Professor Dumbledore this evening, principally because he wasn’t wearing a long lavender robe. He had on a two-piece suit, open-collared shirt, shiny shoes, and his long thick hair and beard were carefully combed. He looked thinner in the suit than he had in the robe. The chubby Caleb made a mental note never to start dressing in robes. Pearl’s spectacles were halfway down his nose as he silently studied Caleb with such a condescending look that the librarian started getting a little perturbed.

“Well?” Caleb finally asked.

In a deep, offended voice Pearl said, “You haven’t returned my calls. I thought a personal appearance would help remind you of my interest in the Psalm Book.”

“Right, I see.”

Pearl looked around. “A parking lot seems hardly appropriate to engage in conversation about one of the world’s most important books.”

Caleb sighed. “Very well, come on up.”

They rode the elevator to Caleb’s floor. The two men sat across from each other in the small living room.

“I was afraid that you’d decided to go straight to Sotheby’s or Christie’s with the Psalm Book.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I haven’t even been back to the house after you were there. I didn’t call you because I’m still thinking.”

Pearl looked very relieved by this statement. “At the very least it would behoove us to obtain definitive tests on the Psalm Book. I know several firms with impeccable reputations that can do this. And I see no need to wait.”

“Well,” Caleb said hesitantly.

“The longer you procrastinate, the less control you have over the public learning about the existence of a twelfth Psalm Book.”

“What do you mean by that?” Caleb said sharply as he sat forward.

“I’m not sure you adequately realize the significance of this discovery, Shaw.”

“On the contrary, I realize very clearly the enormity of it.”

“I mean that there might be leaks.”

“How? I’ve certainly told no one.”

“Your friends?”

“They’re completely trustworthy.”

“I see. Well, pardon me if I don’t share your confidence. But if there is a leak, people might start making accusations. Jonathan’s reputation may suffer considerably.”

“What sort of accusations?”

“Oh, for heaven sakes, man, let me just spell it out for you: accusations that the book was stolen.”

Caleb’s thoughts leaped to his own theory about the library’s Psalm Book being a forgery. Yet he said as earnestly as he could, “Stolen? Who would believe such a thing?”

Pearl took a deep breath. “No other owner of one of those treasures in the long and celebrated history of book collecting has ever kept it a secret. Until now.”

“And you think it’s because Jonathan stole it? Preposterous. He’s as much a thief as I am.” Please, please, let that be true.

“But he might have purchased it from someone who had stolen it, perhaps unwittingly, perhaps not. At least he might have had a suspicion, which would explain the secrecy he kept about owning the book.”

“And where exactly would the book have been stolen from? You said you checked with the other places that own one.”

“What the hell would you expect them to say?” Pearl snapped. “Do you think they would admit it to me if their Psalm Book had been stolen? And maybe they don’t even know. What if a very clever