“Maybe it’s your boots he doesn’t like,” Bonnie said. “That’s snake skin isn’t it?”
“Crocodile. They’re Ferrinis,” he answered, sounding relieved when Fred lost interest and went to check out his SUV instead of attacking. “I’m supposed to meet the bookstore owner at eleven, so if it doesn’t take too long, I’d love to hear what you were doing at Appleton’s.”
***
“This is a fantastic view you have. Is that Mount Evans?” Wilson asked, pointing toward the west once we were on my back deck. For a guy who was in a hurry a minute ago, he surprised me with his small talk. I had expected him to come straight to the point and ask why we were at Appleton’s again.
I didn’t have a chance to answer. Bonnie was in the kitchen with Fred and yelled through the open door, “Would you like coffee, Paul? Jake doesn’t have anything cold to drink.”
Old habits are hard to break. She was going through my refrigerator looking for the beer I used to stock by the case. I could have told her it was empty, but didn’t think Wilson needed to know.
“No thanks. I’ve had my two cups for the day,” he answered, unconsciously tapping his index finger on the deck table.
“So what brings you up here, Paul?” The annoying rat-a-tat-tat stopped.
Wilson stroked his goatee the way one would pet a cat, exposing a yellow nicotine stain between his index and middle finger. “Well, I remember at the signing, Ms. Jones mentioned you had a copy of Tom Sawyer, and I was wondering if I could look at it. You see, I’m a collector of rare books. Well actually, a dealer; I buy low and sell high. I would starve to death as an author if that was my only income.”
“Isn’t your book a best seller? I would think you made enough to retire.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many people think that. My publisher only pays twice a year, and the first payment won’t be enough for a single car payment after they deduct their expenses and my advance.”
“Wow, that’s terrible.”
“Live and learn. Next time I’ll skip the whole agent publisher route and do it myself. A lot of traditional authors are doing that now and making a fortune.”
He was no longer looking at me. His eyes had drifted upward as though he were seeking confirmation from someone in heaven “Oh, well. I still have my day job. Speaking of which, could I take a peek at your copy of Tom Sawyer?”
“I had a copy. Appleton stole it from me nearly two weeks ago.”
Wilson reached inside his sport coat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then looked up at me. “I’m sorry to hear that. I would have paid dearly for a first edition. Do you mind?”
“Yes, he does.” Bonnie had joined us on the deck, holding a makeshift tray with three cups of coffee. “Jake doesn’t smoke and doesn’t like it when I do, so why don’t you have a cup of coffee instead.”
I don’t have a serving tray and was surprised to see she had improvised with an old cookie sheet I didn’t know I owned.
“Thank you,” he said, putting the cigarettes back into his jacket while keeping one eye on Fred. “I suppose another cup won’t hurt.” His fingers went back to beating my table when he must have realized Fred was more interested in the cookie sheet than taking a bite of him. Wilson’s tapping started with his little finger then quickly tapped each one in succession until he got to his index finger. It was really getting to me.
The tapping stopped abruptly. “How did you know it was Appleton who broke into your house and stole your book?”
“I didn’t at first. It wasn’t until I saw his face on TV after he’d been found dead in his truck.” It was a complete lie, of course. I wasn’t about to confess to breaking into Appleton’s before he was found dead.
“Is that why you were there, the day I drove by? To get your book back?”
“And some other stuff he took.” He didn’t need to know it was our second trip, and we were there to remove evidence of our first visit.
“What about you, Paul?” Bonnie asked. “What were you doing there?”
Wilson had begun to tap again, but stopped long enough to answer Bonnie. “I wanted to make another offer for his book. He turned me down the first time I called, so I was hoping he had a wife or girlfriend who might sell it to me.”
Bonnie’s eyes grew large, “You called him? How did you… Oh, the guest list.”
Wilson smiled, and went back to stroking his goatee. “Yes, he put his number, but not his address on the list. I had a heck of a time putting a name to the face at the book signing.”
I jumped in before she could ask another question. “Then why did you leave? I mean, if you drove all the way up there from Parker, why didn’t you knock on his door instead of letting Fred chase you away?”
Fred raised his head at the mention of his name, but laid back down when Bonnie spoke. “How do you know that, Jake? How do you know he lives in Parker?”
Wilson looked like he was about to ask the same question, so I spoke first. “His bio on the book jacket. It said he lives in Parker, Colorado with his two cats. Maybe that’s why Fred doesn’t like him. He must smell the cats.”
I took a sip of my coffee before getting back to my little interrogation. I felt like I must have been a cop in a past life. “So why did you drive off, Paul?”
“Your dog spooked me.”
Everyone turned to look at Fred who had gone back to sleep at my feet. He looked as vicious as a wooly caterpillar. I tried my best to keep a straight face. What kind of sissy was this guy?
“Of course, I didn’t know it was your dog at the time. Nor did I know he was a Golden. All I could think of was being attacked by a pit-bull. I didn’t need another copy of Tom Sawyer that bad.” He looked down at his coffee then added, “Would you happen to have any cream and sugar, Miss Jones?”
Bonnie smiled and got up to go back inside. “I saw some milk in there, but I know Jake doesn’t use sugar. His wife made him give up anything that could aggravate his diabetes.”
“I don’t have diabetes, Bon.”
“No, and she wanted to make sure you didn’t catch it either. Isn’t that why you quit drinking?” There was no sense telling her diabetes isn’t a communicable disease. My interrogation was falling apart.
Wilson looked like he was enjoying our little discourse on my lack of sugar in the house. “I know what you mean; it runs in my family too. I think the milk will be just fine.”
“She really looks out for you, doesn’t she,” he said after Bonnie went to fetch the milk.
“I guess so. Ever since my wife died, she’s been watching out for me and Fred. Sometimes I don’t know how I would have managed without her.” I caught myself before getting too melancholy. Wilson was obviously making small-talk again for his tapping began again the moment Bonnie left us.
Once more, the tapping stopped abruptly. “Just between you and me, Jake, were you planning on stealing your book back?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story. I had a run in with the creep after he stole my stuff. Fred and I spotted him at the hardware store when I was buying a door to replace the one he broke. That’s how I knew for sure it was he who’d broke into my place. So, yes, I was prepared to do the same to him if it came to that, but we didn’t have to. His door was wide open when we got there.”
“Unless you want cottage cheese in your coffee, you’re going to have to go without that milk,” Bonnie said, returning empty handed.
Wilson had been about to say something before Bonnie interrupted. He looked up at her blankly with his mouth still open. Luckily for him we rarely had seagulls this far from open water.
“I think she’s telling us my milk is sour. Sorry, Paul, the power was off for a few days after that last storm.” Another lie, but again, he didn’t need to know Excel had shut me down last month until I paid their ransom and had the power restored.