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

That would be the cover. The 1847 Orange on the original cover — and proven authentic — well, don’t know. I could pick up the phone here, put in a call to Clevendon, tell him what I had, and tell him the price was four hundred thousand dollars. And by God I think he’d pay it. No — I wouldn’t do that. We have three generations of reputation to uphold. Oh, I’d let Clevendon know all right, let a few others know as well, and then I’d take it to London and put it up at auction with a bidding bottom of one hundred thousand pounds. Who knows? It might fetch half a million or more. Anything is possible in today’s inflated world.”
    â€œAnd if such an original cover were to exist and be stolen, what would be the prospects for the thieves?”
    â€œOn the black market? No legitimate dealer or collector would touch it, but there are one or two Middle Eastern collectors and one in France — I mention no names. Of course, the price would be considerably less.”
    â€œBut if there were no report of the theft — if it simply surfaced?”
    â€œAh, then the sky’s the limit.”
    â€œAnd would the thief try to sell it here?”
    â€œI think not. Stolen here? Why sell it here? London would be a better market.” He cocked his head and regarded Masuto impishly. “Ah, Detective Masuto, behind that Oriental mask of yours lies an interesting speculation. You are apparently quite ready to be convinced that somewhere, somehow, the unpleasant Mr. Gaycheck found a One-Penny Orange — a motive for his murder. And you are also speculating that perhaps I could have done this not entirely unwholesome deed.”
    Masuto smiled.
    â€œBut you have only to look at me. Surely I am not the type who murders?”
    â€œIs there a type who murders?”
    â€œYou are a most unusual policeman — but of course you know that. Yes, I would imagine there is a type that is given to acts of violence. Unlike myself. I lead a sequestered life. By the way, how was the good Gaycheck sent to his reward?”
    â€œYou did not like him.”
    â€œI found him distasteful.”
    â€œHe was shot in the middle of the forehead with a small pistol, probably an automatic, with a twenty-two-caliber short slug. Short as distinguished from the high-velocity bullet. He died instantly.”
    â€œAs a reward for his good deeds. By the way, he perished my debtor.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œHe owes me eighteen hundred dollars for a stamp I gave him on consignment.”
    â€œA ten-cent black 1847 George Washington?”
    â€œSergeant, you amaze me. Yes.”
    â€œIt’s being held in the sheriff’s station on San Vincente in West Hollywood — in the property office. As evidence. If you put your claim in there and show proof of ownership and indebtedness, you should be able to have it in a few days. I thought it was worth three thousand.”
    â€œCatalog price. A collector might pay close to that. I gave it to Gaycheck on consignment. He said he had a customer for it.”
    â€œThen you did do business with Gaycheck?”
    â€œI do business with any stamp dealer whose credit is not subject to suspicion. In business, one does not make moral judgments.”
    â€œWas there any reason to make a moral judgment of Ivan Gaycheck?”
    â€œCome, come, Sergeant. You know precisely what I mean. By the way, how comes my stamp to the West Hollywood sheriff? Gaycheck was murdered in Beverly Hills.”
    â€œThe stamp was found in the possession of Ronald Haber.” Masuto’s face was impassive, his eyes fixed on Holmbey. “He lives in West Hollywood.”
    â€œGaycheck’s assistant. I don’t understand.”
    â€œHaber was murdered a few hours ago.”
    â€œGood heavens!” Holmbey drew a deep breath. “Murdered. What the devil goes on? Is it open season for stamp dealers?”
    â€œI imagine that the person