Ghost Hunter

Chapter 32

"STUART GRIGGS WAS A JORDAN'S JUNGLE FANATIC." Benjamin Bodkin peered at Cooper over the rims of a pair of old-fashioned reading glasses. "Did a bit of small-time business with him over the years, the occasional journal, that sort of thing. But he could never afford the expensive items. Not until fairly recently, that is."

Bodkin's Rare Books was a dimly lit space saturated with the unmistakable aroma of old volumes. The shelves went from floor to ceiling on every wall. They were crammed with books of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions. Under other circumstances, Cooper thought, he could have spent hours here browsing the collection.

Bodkin, himself, went very well with his bookshop. He was comfortably plump and rumpled, with a shrewd, scholarly air.

"When did the situation change?" Cooper asked.

"A couple of months ago Griggs called and said he knew that there were three copies of Jordan's herbal in private collections. He asked me to approach the three collectors and see if any of them would be willing to sell. One proved willing, and I handled the transaction."

"How much did he pay for the herbal?" Cooper asked.

"Far too much." Bodkin snorted, removed his glasses, and started to polish the lenses with his handkerchief. "What can I say? To most collectors the herbal is merely an expensive oddity, but to a true Jordan's Jungle buff, it is the Holy Grail of herbals and therefore no price is too high."

"Where do you think he got the money this time?" Cooper asked.

Bodkin was clearly amused. "That, sir, is a question that I never ask my clients. All I can tell you is that sometime during the past few months, Stuart Griggs must have come into an inheritance."

*****

MORE LIKELY GRIGGS HAD TURNED TO DEALING DOPE TO pay for his lifelong search for Jordan's Jungle, Cooper thought on the way back to where he had parked the Spectrum. But it was unlikely that the sophisticated business techniques required to run a successful drug ring were taught in horticulture school.

According to the research he had done, the history of chant on the streets of Cadence had altered significantly over time. It had been little more than a trickle in the Old Quarter for a couple of years, virtually ignored by the authorities, who had bigger problems on their hands. Then, sometime during the past few months, the drug had suddenly exploded into a headline-grabbing issue.

It seemed probable that the rumor Benny and Joe had heard was correct. Griggs had acquired a partner in recent months, an entrepreneur who had seen the full potential of the enchantment dust business and figured out how to take a small, one-man drug operation into the big time.

Cooper's phone rezzed just as he was getting into the Spectrum.

"This is Boone," he said.

"Ormond Ripley, here. I've got some surveillance tapes that I think you might want to look at."

"I'm on my way."