The Secret Cellar Read Online Free PDF Page A

there are several in the catalog.”
    “No, no, no,” Mom insists. “Don’t you dare buy me a thing.”
    Margaret and I wander off to check the bookcases for possible Mr. Eliot gifts. As we’re standing there browsing, out of the corner of my eye I see someone leaning against the glass display case, talking to Raoul. My heart drops into my shoes when I realize that it’s Marcus Klinger—the rude guy from the bookstore—and he has my dad’s pen in his grubby little hands!
    I elbow Margaret. “Oh no. No. No. No.”
    “What are you …? Oh, him. What is he doing here?” She scowls at him, a reminder that one insults Margaret Wrobel at one’s own peril. Something tells me that Marcus Klinger is going to pay dearly for that “clean hands” remark.
    Klinger sets the pen on a square of black velvet and examines it with a magnifying glass. He then starts to unscrew the barrel, but Margaret interrupts him, snatching the pen out of his grasp.
    “Excuse me, miss, I was looking at that,” he says. Then he recognizes her from the store. “Oh. You.”
    “Yeah. Me. I would have thought you’d be looking at the books,” she says. “I’m sure there are plenty of cheap imitations that you could pawn off as first editions in your shop.”
    Fortunately, Raoul steps in before Klinger challenges Margaret to a duel, or whatever it is that people do now when they think they’ve been insulted. “Sorry, miss. Imust return the pen to the case. It’s time to move everything into the auction room.”
    Margaret hands him the pen and then glares one last time at Klinger before joining me back at the books.
    “What are you doing?” I demand. “Are you crazy? Now he’s going to buy the pen just for spite.”
    “Don’t worry, Soph. Elizabeth knows what she’s doing.”
    “Yeah, maybe. But it’s still my money, remember.”
    The woman with the dazzling red hair approaches, smiling warmly. “Hi, I’m Shelley Gallivan. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing your St. Veronica’s blazers—that’s my alma mater. I have such fond memories of that place. Is Sister Bernadette still the principal? She runs a tight ship, I think you could say.”
    “Yep, she’s still the captain,” I say. “I’m Sophie.”
    Margaret introduces herself, and then asks, “Do you work here?”
    “No, I’m just … coordinating, I suppose is the right word. I worked for Mr. Dedmann before he died, and now I’m helping out with the settling of his estate. Sophie, I see that you’re interested in his old fountain pen. Is it for yourself?”
    “No, it’s for my dad, for Christmas. He collects them.”
    “Do you know anything else about it?” Margaret asks.
    “Only that it was Mr. Dedmann’s favorite,” Shelleyreplies. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but he was holding it when he died. I found him at his desk, and the pen was still in his hand.”
    Hmmmm. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.
    “Really?” Margaret asks. “That’s amazing. What was the last word he wrote?”
    Shelley ponders the question for a second. “I’ll have to … Oh yes, now I remember. He had the pen in his right hand and an odd metal box in his left—and the last words he wrote were ‘Look inside.’ He wrote it on the cover of a notebook, almost like he knew he didn’t have time to open it to a blank page. The box he was holding is a funny little thing—it has a tricky latch that took me a while to figure out. When I finally did, the only thing inside was a photograph of a young woman. I had to use tweezers to remove it. It was an old picture; based on the hairstyle and clothes, I’d guess it was taken in the thirties or forties. Nothing written on the back except for the letter ‘V.’ It’s still at the house; I’m trying to piece together some of the details of his life. He was a very secretive person, and so much of his life is a complete mystery. Well, I need to get ready for the big auction. It was nice meeting