According to Their Deeds Read Online Free PDF Page A

Legally, they’re mine.”
    “I don’t think they were meant to be sold,” Dorothy said.
    “I’m sure they weren’t. But sale at auction is absolute.”
    “You don’t want to keep them, do you?”
    “No. It just means that they are mine to figure out what to do with.”
    Now Dorothy was doubtful. “What did he do at the Justice Department?”
    Charles folded the papers and put them back in the box. Distastefully, he pushed the box back into its lair. “Derek was Chief of Staff to the Deputy Assistant Attorney General for Legislative Affairs.”
    Dorothy frowned, and the solemnity that had watched over the room shifted its gaze elsewhere. “I had no idea such a position existed,” she said. Her tone was plain that she saw no need that it should.
    “It did. It does still, I suppose.”
    “Then those papers must have something to do with it. They don’t have anything to do with us.”
    “It’s still a poor place to keep them,” Charles said.
    Dorothy’s attention was pulled back to the object on the desk.
    “What will you do with the book?”
    He stared at the ruin of it. “That is the real difficulty. Oh my,” he sighed. “I’m so disappointed.”
    “How much is it worth?”
    “I was going to say four thousand,” Charles said. “It was the most valuable book he had.”
    “How much did you sell it to him for?”
    “Twenty-six hundred, five years ago. But it’s not the money anyway.”
    “It’s what it says about Derek.”
    Now they were back to the beginning. “Yes,” Charles said. “Exactly. If he needed to hide something, there must have been a hundred other places that didn’t require destroying something. I remember delivering that book myself, and we talked for an hour about just it. I even remember the chess game we had while we talked.”
    “He must have had a reason for doing what he did.”
    “I’d like to know the reason,” Charles said.
    EVENING
    The clock’s seven slow chimes sounded. Charles sat at the counter. “Good night, Alice,” he said.
    “Good night, Mr. Beale. Should I lock the door?”
    “Yes, please. Alice?”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “What was the last thing we sold today?”
    “A Don Quixote .”
    Then she was gone and he was alone. He breathed in the calm. “Another day older and wiser,” he said to the books. “Each of us.”
    Feet appeared from above, and Morgan followed them on the stairs. Charles moved aside from the computer.
    “I already closed out from upstairs,” Morgan said. “I just need to put together the deposit and balance the drawer.”
    “Go ahead,” Charles said. “I’m just sitting.”
    Morgan counted checks and cash and anything else there was and finally let himself out, taking the blue deposit bag with him, secure beneath his coat, and leaving the quiet behind. Charles watched over it protectively.
    A gentler tread descended, music in his ears.
    “Are you ready, dear Dulcinea?” Charles said.
    Dorothy had on her jacket and gloves against the April evening.
    “Yes, señor.”
    As he stood, and as Dorothy came to the last step, the lock rattled in the front door, and the door opened.
    “Hey, boss.”
    “Sancho Panza,” Charles said.
    “What do you say?” Angelo asked.
    “Nothing. We’re just leaving. Everything went okay?”
    “Everything is always okay.”
    “Very good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
    He was across the room and on the stairs, mounting them in panther silence.
    Charles set the alarm for the night. “And shall we go, Mrs. Beale?” he asked.
    “Please, Mr. Beale,” she answered, and they stepped out to the twilit street. The sharp lights and sounds replaced the quiet of the books, but nothing dislodged the linen and forest smell; it was irreplaceable.
    “Do you have anything in mind?” Charles asked as they dawdled along.
    “No. I’m sure I could find something in the freezer.”
    “You don’t sound very convincing.”
    “I’m not trying to.”
    “Hah!” They’d reached Prince Street. “Then