Paul Robertson - According to Their Deeds

ACCORDING TO
THEIR DEEDS MORNING Mr. Beale? Good morning, Morgan. Good morning, sir. His red hair was really too bright to be growing in a place so hidden from the sun. I have an answer back from the person on eBay selling the Odyssey. Yes, the hypothetical autographed first edition.

What does he say? He is moving and getting rid of stuff, and it was in a box. So he found Attica in his attic. Does he know where the box came from? It was his grandfathers, who got it from an aunt in England as a present in the nineteen twenties, and she bought it for him at a bookstore. Thats more than we usually get. Theres a handwritten inscription to his grandfather inside the cover. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Thats too bad. What about the title page? Heres a picture he took of it. Charles put his nose right up to the screen. Hmm. Does that tell you anything? Its not a proper title page. What is it? Morgan asked.

Charles shrugged. Some kind of half title page. It does have the title: Homers Odyssey; Translated by Alexander Pope. But theres no publisher or city or date. Why does he say its a first edition? I believe it is a first edition because it is so old, and because the author signed it. Of course. Of course.

This picture is the inside front cover, with the inscription to his grandfather and the author signature. That? A very faded smudge crawled along the top of the paper. I can make out sort of an A and sort of a P, Morgan said. Im sure the book is nineteenth century, so Pope would have been dead a hundred years or so. Maybe thats why his signature is so shaky. Mine would be, too.

Well, obviously its not a first edition of anything. Its some other printing. Get the picture of the cover again. Morgan quickly did so. But its still interesting, Charles said. I havent seen anything just like that.

It looks like very nice leather. How much longer on the auction? Four and a half days. Until Monday afternoon. And where is the bidding? Four hundred. Yes. The dealers all know its not specifically valuable, and theyre waiting.

What is it worth if it isnt specifically valuable? Three or four hundred, up to maybe fifteen if its sort of specific. But it all depends. Id have to actually see the book. You could fly to Denver. He wouldnt mail it here while its under auction. Charles stared at the book on the screen.

Morgan, Im on an odyssey of my own at the moment. So I think Ill take a chance. Yes, sir. How much of a chance? Fifteen hundred. Im young and idealistic. Or foolish, I dont remember which.

Make it two thousand. Yes, sir. Charles watched the fingers flit. It all still amazes me. I could show you how to do this. I know my limitations, Morgan.

It isnt hard, sir. I mean that Im already not very disciplined. If I were to start poking around eBay and all those other places, I would never escape. Ill just use my computer for email and leave the rest to you. He slid around the corner to the main office. Is Angelos next probation meeting this Monday or the next Monday? Dorothy looked at her calendar.

A week from this Monday. I would like for him to learn better manners in dealing with people. I dont think we could have him wait on customers. No. Ill have to think about it. The morning had progressed.

Charles strolled down the stairs and wandered over to the front window to inspect a newly empty space on the shelf beside it. Outside the window a man on the sidewalk was inspecting the front of the building. A brown tweed jacket draped the mans broad shoulders, and a fedora shaded his strong jaw and heavy forehead. He straightened his tie and strode up the steps. The door opened. Charles still had his eye on the vacancy.

Good morning, the man said, coming to a stop at the counter. Good morning, Alice said, accommodating as a traffic light turning green. The conversation slowly accelerated. Nice place you got here. Thank you, sir. May I help you with anything? Im actually looking for the owner.

Charles turned and merged in. That would be me. Blue eyes beneath the hat brim smiled. Then that would make you Charles Beale. Im Frank Kelly. How do you do, Mr.

Beale? Im quite well, thank you, Mr. Kelly. Glad to hear it. Im... um... The blue eyes had focused on the wall behind Charles.

Well look at that! He leaned closer to the shelves, and Charles moved aside. Do you mind? Not at all. Go ahead. Thanks. Mr. Kelly stared at the books, his eyes darting side to side, up and down.

Then he gingerly put his hand to one and slid it out. Charles waited attentively. Mr. Kellys square jaw slipped slowly ajar; his broad forehead wrinkled. This is real Raymond Chandler? he asked. Golly. Golly.

First edition? That one is. Well, get a load of that. He turned his intense blue stare back to Charles, and then to the shelves. Are all of these? Not all first editions. Okay. He replaced the Chandler and pulled out a Ross Mac-Donald.

You know, Ive seen these on the Internet. But I never really looked at one. Are you familiar with antique books, Mr. Kelly? Oh, sure. All kinds of antiques. He shook his head wistfully as he put the book back.

Its my job. Say, you got a place where we could talk? What about? Well... Mr. Kelly glanced around the room. Only Alice was with them, crisply. Its business.

Please, come with me. Charles led him upstairs to the office. Mr. Kelly, this is my wife. Dorothy, this is Mr. Frank Kelly.

Their guest doffed his hat and held out his hand. Pleased to meet you. Its my pleasure, Dorothy said. Bravely, she put her graceful hand into his. Great. He held it for a minute, scrutinizing her, especially studying her face and hair.

Then he released her hand without any damage. I guess I can talk with you both? You might as well, Charles said. Then here goes. Faster than sight, he had a thin leather case in his hand. Im from the FBI, he said, flicking the case open to show his badge. How interesting! Charles said.

Man, is it! Mr. Kelly grinned. You wouldnt believe what comes up in this job. I couldnt even guess. It gets pretty strange sometimes. He shook his head.

But this isnt. Ive got you on a list of dealers that Derek Bastien bought from. I see. Yes, Derek bought a number of books from me. Thats it. Im with the Artifacts and Antiquities division and Im checking up on the stuff that got stolen from Bastiens house.

Charles frowned. The FBI? You see, weve got likely interstate commerce in stolen goods, plus those being antique objects. D.C. police reported it to us so Ive got to ask around and fill in a report. He shrugged. Its just my job.

I only deal in books, Mr. Kelly. I wouldnt know much about any of the items that were stolen. Sure. Can I ask you some questions anyway? Of course. Were you ever in his house? Yes.

A number of times. Did you talk about the things he owned? His collection. Yes. Of course. Thats what I want to know about. Suddenly, Mr.

Kelly realized he still had his hat on. He snatched it off, and nodded to Dorothy. Sorry about that. She smiled. Did you ever get the feeling someone was after any of his stuff? Well... no, Charles said.

Not at all. Because we got a break-in where the intruder snags a French baroque ivory dolphin, a colonial pewter candlestick and matching snuffer, an 1856 Italian mother-of-pearl dueling pistol, non-operational, et cetera, et cetera. Its stuff thats not easy to pawn, so the guy must either have a channel or a customer, see? I dont quite. Do you, dear? She smiled. Im afraid not. Frank Kelly provided light.

Either he has somebody he can fence that kind of stuff to, or he already has a customer who really wants a pewter candlestick. With a snuffer. He stole the porpoise on purpose, you mean, Charles said. That sounds unlikely. Yeah. Except theres a difference between a dolphin and a porpoise.

A porpoise in the French Baroque is for Greek myths, and a dolphin is a symbol for the French crown prince. Mr. Kelly sneezed. Sorry. Dust. Youd figure, you spend all your time with antiques, you should be used to dust.