The Case of the One-Penny Orange: A Masao Masuto Mystery (Book Two) Read Online Free PDF

tea. “Now I will ask you — is any stamp worth an act of murder?”
    â€œWho is to say what will prompt an act of murder? A man is killed in the street for a few dollars. You know that I was a colonel in the Imperial Army — war is a gigantic killing. Who is to say? My own passion is porcelain. I have always dreamed of owning a Bactrian horse of the T’ang dynasty — not the pottery horse, but that almost mythical T’ang horse which is said to have been made of Ch’ai ware, which they describe as being thin as paper, resonant as musical stone, and blue as the sky between the rain clouds. Does it exist? Rumor has it that there is one in Peking and another in the Imperial Palace in Japan — but that is only rumor. I have never spoken to anyone who actually saw such a horse. Would I kill for such a thing? But that would depend on so many circumstances. A man like Gaycheck — I might well kill him, but not for a stamp. I only collect Japanese stamps. Well …” Ishido paused, smiled, and sipped his tea. “Yes, one stamp. In the Dragon series. Two colors with an inverted center. But, you see, Masao — I already have it. So the question is academic.”
    Masuto did an unforgivable thing. “Might I see it?” he asked.
    Ishido stared at him evenly, his face reflecting Masuto’s own carefully controlled indifference. Then he nodded, rose, and went into another room. He returned with a small black album and opened it to reveal what Masuto considered a very ordinary stamp, the dragon in the center inverted.
    â€œHow much is it worth, if I may ask so improper a question?”
    â€œYou are a policeman,” Ishido said, his simple statement exiling Masuto from his world. “I bought it in Hong Kong twelve years ago. The seller was unsavory. I paid a thousand British pounds. At today’s inflated prices — well, over seventy-five thousand dollars.”
    Still, Masuto did not go. He would not be invited back to Ishido’s house, so whatever questions he would ask must be asked now. Since he was a policeman and no more than a policeman, he would play the policeman’s role.
    â€œIs this the most valuable stamp that exists?”
    â€œHardly. The land of my birth lacks that honor, but one does not judge a country or a person by the worth of his stamps. There is a stamp called the One-Penny 1848 Mauritius. Today, in perfect condition, it might sell for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I do not know whether any other stamp is more valuable.”
    It was almost eleven o’clock when Masuto returned to his home in Culver City. Kati was waiting for him. “Was it pleasant?” she asked him. “Were you greeted well?”
    â€œI was greeted well, yes. With great courtesy.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œI must make you unhappy, dear Kati. I came as a kinsman, I left as a policeman.”
    â€œOh, so sorry! Such a pity!”
    â€œI asked improper questions. And as far as my manners were concerned — well, I am a policeman.”
    â€œWho has ever complained about your manners?”
    â€œDear Kati.” He sighed and walked to the bookshelves, where he took down a volume of the Encyclopedia Americana — the fine set that he had bought for his children only a year ago and of which he was very proud. He riffled through the pages, and then handed the book to Kati. She liked to read to him. Not only did it relax him, it gave her a sense of participating in his thoughts. He pointed to a paragraph and asked her to read to him.
    â€œMauritius,” she began.
    â€œNo, dear wife — so sorry, but Ishido pronounced the word differently. He pronounced it Moreeshius. I am sure his pronunciation was correct.”
    â€œYes, yes. Moreeshius. ‘A densely populated island in the Indian Ocean about 550 miles east of Madagascar, is an independent nation within the Commonwealth of Nations. Its capital, Port Louis, also