Copper Beach

21

SAM GAZED INTO THE GLOWING COMPUTER WITH THE BROODING air of an alchemist pondering his fires.

“There was no indication that anything was stolen from Webber’s home,” he said. “The county officials have concluded that he died of natural causes.”

“Well, we knew that would be the official cause of death,” Abby said.

She sank down into the corner of the massive leather couch and curled her legs mermaid-style. Newton bounded up and settled down beside her. She rubbed behind his ears, taking comfort from the physical contact with him.

The toxic mix of adrenaline and nerves following the discovery of Thaddeus’s body and the kidnapping attempt was starting to dissipate, leaving exhaustion in its wake. But she had a feeling that a restful sleep was going to be harder to come by than usual tonight.

“The local media mention that Webber appears to have been a hoarder who collected old books related to the occult, magic and the paranormal,” Sam said.

“That is absolutely wrong,” Abby said. “Webber had no interest in the occult or magic. But I don’t suppose it will matter. So many people don’t understand the distinction between the paranormal and the supernatural. Regardless, those reports will be enough to fire up the rumor mill in collectors’ circles. My competition will be looking very hard for Thaddeus’s house.”

Sam got up from the computer. “The police will have locked up the place.”

“I’m sure they did,” she said. “For all the good that will do. I think it’s safe to say the authorities have no idea of the value of some of those books. They’ll assume that Thaddeus was just another eccentric hoarder.”

“Did he have any family?”

“Not that I know of,” Abby said.

Sam crossed the room to where a bottle of white wine was chilling in a bucket of ice. A bottle of whiskey and two glasses sat nearby. “Did he make any contingency arrangements for his collection in the event that something happened to him? Is there a will?”

“I have no idea. He always dreamed of founding a library of paranormal literature for serious researchers, but he never had the money to start such an ambitious project, and no academic institution would accept his collection.”

“If he made a will, it will be on file somewhere. I’ll have someone in Coppersmith’s legal department check into it.” Sam took out his phone and keyed a number. “If we can locate a will and the lawyer who drew it up, we might be able to take action to protect Webber’s books, or at least those in the vault, before it’s too late.”

He spoke briefly to whoever answered the phone, giving instructions with a relaxed authority.

“Thanks, Bill,” he concluded. “Let me know when you’ve got something.”

Sam ended the call and reached for the wine bottle. When he realized that Abby was watching him, he raised his brows. “What?”

“Must be nice to be able to pick up a phone and have a lawyer snap to attention like that for you,” she said.

“There are benefits to having access to the resources of a privately held company.” Sam poured wine into one of the glasses. “But guys like Bill don’t come cheap, and they don’t exactly snap to attention, sadly.”

He splashed some whiskey into the second glass and carried both across the room to where Abby sat.

“Thank you for trying to protect Thaddeus’s collection,” she said. She swallowed some of the wine and lowered the glass. “It meant everything to him.”

“We might be able to protect his books, at least for now, but if there is an heir and if he or she doesn’t appreciate the value of the collection, the books will probably go straight into the used-book market,” Sam said.

“Or a yard sale.”

Sam drank some whiskey and sank down onto the couch next to Newton. Absently, he scratched Newton’s ears.

Abby smiled proudly. “Newton was a real hero today, wasn’t he?”

“You’re not supposed to anthropomorphize,” Sam said. “Dogs don’t think in terms of bravery and cowardice. He recognized a threat, and he followed his instincts.”

“He was trying to protect me.”

“You’re his pack buddy. Like I said, he was just going on instinct.”

Abby took another sip of wine. “You were protecting me, too. You’re human. Am I allowed to call you brave and daring and heroic?”

“Nope.” He drank some more whiskey. “I was just doing my job.”

“Heroes always say stuff like that, you know.”

“In this case, it’s the simple truth. You hired me to find a blackmailer. Now it looks like I’m dealing with a blackmailer who is getting desperate enough to commit murder and attempted kidnapping.”

“And you hired me to find that lab book. Which reminds me.” She reached into her tote, took out her phone and checked her email. “There are a few new messages. Let me see if any of them are from those dealers I contacted earlier.”

She ran through the new mail. There was a note from her father, reminding her of the signing event, and a message from her stepmother, demanding that she get in touch immediately. Ignoring the first two emails, she opened the third. In spite of her exhaustion, she experienced another flash of adrenaline.

“Here we go,” she said, trying to keep her professional cool. “The auction is scheduled for next week. No preemptive bids are allowed, but it has been noted that my client will try to top any bid. We are guaranteed the opportunity to do so.”

Sam sat forward, eyes heating. Energy whispered in the atmosphere. Newton stirred and raised his head, ears sharpened.

Sam looked at the phone. “Which dealer is running the auction?”

“He calls himself Milton,” Abby said. “But that’s just his online alias. I don’t know anything more about him, aside from the fact that he is one of the dealers who works with the most dangerous collectors and the most dangerous books. I’ve never done business with him, but he says he knows my reputation and trusts that my client is solid.”

“I’ll call one of the people in the IT department.” Sam reached for his own phone. “See if he can trace Milton.”

“I doubt that you’ll be able to find him. Dealers like Milton don’t survive this long unless they are very careful.”

“Thaddeus Webber was careful,” Sam pointed out. “Someone found him.”