Murder at Teatime Read Online Free PDF

tie, and black and white wing tip shoes. A gold-tipped Malacca cane leaned against the arm of his chair.
    Thornhill introduced him to Charlotte, whereupon he rose and bowed elegantly from the waist, clasping his hands behind his back like a Prussian officer. “May I kiss the lady’s hand?” he asked.
    “By all means,” replied Charlotte, extending her wrist in her grandest dowager empress manner.
    “I am most pleased to make the acquaintance of the First Lady of the American cinema,” he said, bowing again as he kissed her hand. He repeated the performance for Kitty, whom Thornhill also introduced.
    Charlotte wondered briefly if he would click his heels, but much to her disappointment, he didn’t.
    “Felix will be staying with us through the Fourth,” said Thornhill, who had watched the performance with great amusement.
    “ Ja, ” said Felix as he pulled out their chairs. “Book dealers are a form of parasite. We grow fat on the business of our wealthy clients. I am taking advantage of our dear host’s hospitality to make some contacts. Many very rich book collectors spend their summers on the coast of Maine.”
    “Make hay while the sun shines, eh Felix?” said Thornhill sententiously. “Now, what can I get everyone to drink? Gin, Scotch, vodka …”
    Charlotte asked for a gin and tonic, as did Kitty.
    “Are you a book collector as well, Mr. Mayer?” asked Charlotte as he helped himself to the hors d’oeuvres on a cocktail table.
    “No,” he answered, wolfing down a caviar-topped cracker. “I enjoy the pleasure of handling books, but I have no desire to own them.”
    She was surprised. “Why is that?”
    “For the dealer, books do not represent permanence and security the way they do for the collector. In fact, for the dealer, books are a sort of memento mori . They are continually passing from one set of hands to another as the result of a divorce, a loss of money, a death … The occupation of book dealer,” he continued, raising his forefinger again, “is an occupation with a lesson to teach in the price of misfortune and the fragility of human life.”
    “This is a man,” said Thornhill as he mixed the drinks at a bar tray, “for whom the obituaries are as important as the stock quotations are for a stockbroker. He makes a daily practice of scanning the obituary columns of the newspapers on two continents for possible sources of consignment material.”
    Felix chuckled. “You know what they say about the great Felix Mayer?”
    “What?” asked Charlotte.
    “That he can hear the death rattle before the doctor is called in.”
    “What a gruesome thought!” Kitty exclaimed.
    “Well, my dear friend,” said Thornhill as he passed around the drinks, “if that’s why you’re here, you had better reevaluate your powers of prognostication. I assure you that although my ticker may not be in the best of shape, I’m not planning to give up the ghost until I’m good and ready.”
    Felix continued munching, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “That is not why I’m here, as you know,” he said. “However, should you decide to, as you put it, give up the ghost …”
    “You, my dear friend,” interrupted Thornhill, “will have the pleasure of selling my collection. As you well know.”
    “Thank you, my dear Herr Professor.”
    “Always on the lookout for a commission, eh Felix?” teased Thornhill.
    Felix set down his plate, wiped his mouth, and belched quietly. “Please,” he said. “We are in the book-collecting business, are we not? In our business, there is an old saying: ‘Collectors thrive among the dead.’ If the great collections of the past had not been broken up, where would you have acquired your books? The noblest function of the collector is to hand down the achievements of civilization from one generation to the next. Les morts aident les vivants . The dead help the living, nicht wahr ?”
    Thornhill raised his glass to Felix. “Well-said, my good man.