“Mr. Kelly!”
He was standing on the sidewalk outside the shop.
“Oh, good morning,” he said, and stepped out of the way as Charles put his key in the doorknob. “I wasn’t sure when you’d open.”
“Not for a little while,” Charles said. “But please come in.”
“Thanks. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Charles crossed the showroom to the counter, turned on the lights and turned off the alarm. “You must have gotten my message.”
“Yeah, last night. I would have just called you back, but I decided to drop in.” He gave the room a swinging stare. “I love this place.”
“Of course. Drop in anytime.”
“I might. So, you said one of your books was missing?”
“Not exactly. One of the books I sold Derek Bastien is missing.”
“From here?”
“No. It wasn’t in the set I bought at the auction.”
“Oh. I get it.” He slid his little notebook from its little pocket. “And it should have been?”
“Well, I suppose so. Unless Mrs. Bastien kept it. It wasn’t auctioned.”
“So…” Mr. Kelly gave due consideration. “So maybe it was stolen the night he was killed?”
“I wouldn’t know that at all, of course, but it might have been,” Charles said. “Or Derek might have sold it himself sometime earlier. But I doubt that.”
“What book was it?”
“ Critique of Pure Reason by Kant. An 1830 edition and in reasonable shape.”
“What’s the market value?”
“Nine hundred.”
“Okay. Unaccounted for. I’ll check the inventory and see if it should have been there.”
“That is the inventory that Derek kept?”
“Right. Real useful. That’s the only way we knew about any of the other stuff that was stolen. The police looked at what he had on his inventory list, and they looked at what was left in the house, and whatever was missing got put on the list of stolen goods.”
Charles nodded. “Actually, Lucy Bastien said she thought there were fourteen books on that list, and I only bought thirteen at the auction.”
“There was a lot of stuff on that list. So, is that all you have to tell me?”
“That’s all.”
“Okay. Yeah, could be it was taken. That’s how it was-just stuff. Whatever fit in the bag, I guess.”
The door opened and Alice was with them, sliding off her jacket and beaming sweetness. “Good morning, Mr. Beale!”
“Good Monday morning,” he said. “This is Mr. Kelly.”
“I remember from last week!”
For a few moments, Alice was busy with morning chores. Frank Kelly gravitated to the mystery shelf, and Charles watched.
“Mr. Kelly?”
“Yeah?”
Charles took a slow breath. “Could you come up to the office for just a moment?”
Mr. Kelly caught the tone in Charles’s voice. “Yeah, sure.”
They climbed the stairs and Charles settled Mr. Kelly into the chair he’d had before.
Then he sat at his own desk.
Then he chewed his lip and Mr. Kelly waited.
“What do you know about the night Derek was killed?”
“What do I know?” The broad shoulders shrugged and the heavy brow crinkled. “Just what’s in D.C. Homicide’s report.”
“I wondered. The newspaper said he was hit on the head.”
“I think so. Burglary gone bad.” Mr. Kelly waited.
“It really was a burglary?” Charles said.
“What do you mean?”
“I just wondered. It seems so random.”
Mr. Kelly’s shoulders rose and dropped again, but his eyes didn’t move. “Hey, it happens. You think it wasn’t?”
“Oh, not specifically. I don’t really know anything. It just doesn’t seem appropriate for someone like Derek Bastien.”
“Tell you what,” Mr. Kelly said, his stare still unmoving on Charles. “You want to look at the report?”
“Look at it?”
“Sure. You can’t officially. But I could get you a look, if you wanted.”
“Well… I don’t know…”
Mr. Kelly leaned back, suddenly more relaxed. “Let me take you. It’s no problem.”
“I’m sure you’re too busy.”
“It’s part of my job. Look, you were in his house enough. You knew him. Maybe you might see something in the report. I’m not just doing it to be nice; I think it’s worth an hour because you might help me out.”
“Well. All right,” Charles said. “I would appreciate it.”
“I would, too. Uh…” he was looking through his notebook. “Tomorrow morning. That work for you?”
“I’m sure it would.”
“Hey, boss.”
Even Frank Kelly was startled by the silent appearance.
“Yes, Angelo?”
“You want me to go to somebody on your list this morning?”
“Yes. I’ll talk to you just as soon as I’m finished here.”
Angelo nodded and silently disappeared.
“He works for you?” Mr. Kelly asked.
“Yes. It’s a long story. He’s my courier and night watchman.”
“Courier, huh?”
“It’s not really a necessity. When someone local buys one of the rare books, I send Angelo out to deliver it.”
“Really?” Mr. Kelly was still staring at the empty door. “He ever go to Bastien’s house?”
“I did take him once. Back when I was first training him.”
“So he was at the house?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Actually inside?”
“Yes. I took him in for just a while. Does that mean anything?”
“Huh? Oh, no.” Mr. Kelly seemed distracted, but then he shook it off. “Anyway. So, tomorrow, ten o’clock? D.C. Police headquarters, front lobby.”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Charles climbed to the third floor and knocked on the closed door.
Angelo opened it. His expression was a closed door.
“Let’s pick which agent you should visit this morning,” Charles said. He held up the list. “These two are close together.”
“You want me to go to those two?”
“Yes. Do those. You’ll have to take the Metro all the way to Maryland.
Can you get there?”
“I can get there. Hey, boss.”
“Yes?”
“That man,” Angelo said. “He came out the door.”
“Mr. Kelly? Where?”
“The auction door. He saw me waiting.”
“He was at the auction,” Charles said. “He’s trying to find who stole things from Derek Bastien’s house.”
“He’s police?”
“FBI. It’s like police.”
“They are all the same,” Angelo said. “What things were stolen?”
“Antiques. Little statues and things.”
“Oh. I remember. I see little things like that in people’s houses. Who wants those?”
“The people that have them.”
Apparently Angelo was feeling talkative. “To sell a thing like that, that’s not easy.”
“Exactly. It is Mr. Kelly’s special job to find them. Angelo, if you had stolen things like that, would you know how to sell them?”
“Who says I was stealing those things?”
“No one. I just wondered.”
“I don’t steal those things.”
“I know. Would you know how to sell them if you did?”
“I don’t know anything.”
“All right. I’m sorry. Never mind. I’ll be in the basement for the morning if you need me before you leave.”