Read Online The Bookman's Wake by John Dunning - Free Book Online Page B

with myself, I would never do it again
     unless I had to. I got back to the store right on the
     button and bought my book. And my luck was running like a
     charm, I didn’t even have to call Seattle, I found a
     guy in east L.A. who gave me more than I’d counted
     on—one seventy-five. He specialized in photo books
     and I thought he might be good for this one.”
    “That’s amazing.”
    “Yeah, but that’s not the end of the story.
     Even while he was paying me, I noticed a box of books on
     his counter, new stuff he’d just gotten in. On top of
     the stack was a first edition that damn near stopped my
     heart. I finally worked up my courage and asked him,
     ‘Hey, mister, whatcha gonna want for this?’ He
     got a stern, fatherly look on his face and said, ‘I
     think that’s a pretty nice book, sweetie, I’m
     gonna want twenty to thirty bucks for it.’ And I
     almost died trying to pay him with a straight face. The
     next day I called my friend in Seattle and he sent me a
     good wholesale price, four hundred dollars. And there I
     was, back in the chips.”
    “Incredible,” I said, and I meant it. I
     didn’t know many bookscouts who could pull off
     something like that.
    “Oh, yeah!…yeah! And
so
much more fun than working in some accountant’s
     office or typing dictation for a lawyer. I mean, how can
     you compare
typing
all day with bookscouting. The only trouble with it is,
     it’s not reliable. You can go weeks without making a
     real score, and the rest of the time you’re picking
     up small change. So it all depends on how I’m
     feeling. If I think I’m gonna be lucky, I’ll
     hit the stores: if not, I’ll go to work for Ms. Kelly
     again.”
    I knew I shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t be that
     interested in the specifics. But I had to.
    “What was that book, that was worth so
     much?”
    She grinned, still delighted at the memory and savoring
     each of the title’s four words. “
To…Kill…a
…
Mock-ing-bird
!”
    I tried for a look that said,
It means nothing to me
, but what I wanted to do was close my eyes and suffer.
     Jesus, I thought…
oh, man
! That book is simply not to be found. Stories like that
     are what make up the business. A dealer in photography
     hands a pretty ragamuffin a thousand-dollar book, so
     desirable it’s almost like cash, and all because he
     hasn’t taken the time to learn the high spots of
     modern fiction.
    The waitress brought our food. Eleanor reached for the
     salt and I saw the scar on her wrist. It was a straight
     slash, too even to have been done by accident.
    At some time in her past, Eleanor Rigby had tried to
     kill herself, with a razor blade.
    “So,” she said, in that tone people use when
     they’re changing the subject, “where were you
     heading when I shanghaied you in the rain?”
    “Wherever the wind blows.”
    “Hey, that’s where I’m going! Are you
     married?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Ever been?”
    “Not that I can remember. Who’d put up with
     me?”
    “Probably one or two girls I know. D’you
     have any bad habits?”
    “Well, I don’t smoke.”
    “Beat your women?”
    “Not if they do what I tell them.”
    She laughed. “God, a nonsmoker with a boss
     complex. I may marry you myself. Don’t laugh, Mr.
     Janeway, I’ve lived my whole life on one whim after
     another. Have you ever been at loose ends?”
    “Once, I think, about twenty years ago.”
    “Well, I live that way. My whole life’s a
     big loose end. I go where the wind blows. If the natives
     are friendly, I stay awhile and warm myself in the sun. So
     where’s the wind blowing you?”
    “Phoenix,” I said—the first place that
     popped into my mind.
    “Oh, lovely. Lots of sun there—not many
     books, though, from what I’ve heard. I’d
     probably have to work for a living, which doesn’t
     thrill me, but nothing’s perfect. How would you like
     some company?”
    “You’ve decided to go to Phoenix?”
    “Why not, I’ve