from time to time I deal in rare books and manuscripts. Occasionally, I’ll look at one with a provenance that’s a bit shady and the seller might want to do the deal offshore.”
“Is that legal?”
“Let’s call it a gray area. It’s certainly illegal to steal a rare book, or any book for that matter, and I’ve never done that, not even close. But it’s also impossible to look at an old book and say for certain that it has been stolen. I never ask the seller or his broker if the book was stolen because the answer will always be ‘No.’ Sometimes I’ll get too suspicious and back away. There’s a lot of thievery these days in the business and I’m very careful.”
“This is pretty interesting.”
“That’s why I do it. I love the business. The bookstore keeps me busy and pays the bills, but if and when I make money it’s in the old stuff.”
She sliced a thick wedge of tuna and shoved it around her plate. Bruce was working on his crab salad and ordered a second glass of wine.
She said, “So, I’m intrigued. Can you give me an example?”
He laughed and said, “No, but let’s try a hypothetical. Let’s say a dealer I know in Philly contacts me and says he has a client whose wealthy parents have died off and he’s in charge of the estate. The old man collected rare books and the client has his hands on a few of them. Books are like jewelry, very portable and not always accounted for. They can be walked right out of one’s estate. Let’s say the client has a first edition of Ulysses by James Joyce, and that it’s in extraordinarily fine condition with a dust jacket. He’ll send me photographs of the book. At auction it would fetch around half a million, but auctions also attract a lot of attention. The client does not want attention. We’ll negotiate, and let’s say we agree on three hundred thousand. I’ll meet the dealer somewhere in the Caribbean and he’ll have the book. I’ll transfer the money into a new account at an old bank, and everybody is happy.”
“What happens to the book?”
“Hypothetically, it stays in a vault in another old bank down there. I’ll sit on it for a year or so and put out feelers to potential buyers. Time is always on our side. Memories fade. The authorities lose interest.”
“Sounds dishonest.” She finally took a small bite of raw tuna.
“Maybe, maybe not. The client might have included the book with the estate’s inventory. How am I supposed to know?”
She took another bite, had some tea, and seemed suddenly bored with the conversation. “And you would not include this stock in Nelson’s estate?”
“Oh, I’m not sure what I’d do, really. Who knows about it?”
“Just me and Pops.”
“And he’s in bad health, right?”
“Quite bad. He won’t last a year.”
Bruce took a drink of wine and watched as four businessmen were seated at the table next to them. He lowered his voice an octave or two and said, “Me, I’d leave it alone, but then I’m willing to take more risks than most people.”
She ate another small bite, took another sip. “This is overwhelming, Bruce. I didn’t ask for this job.”
“Most executors don’t. And the pay is lousy.”
“Why don’t you do it? You’re here, much closer to the courthouse and the lawyers and his condo, and you know more about this stuff.”
“What stuff? Offshore accounts and contract killings? No, thanks, Polly. I’ll help when I can but Nelson chose you for a reason. And the lawyers do most of the work anyway. Aside from the hidden stock, it’s a pretty simple estate.”
“Nothing seems simple, especially his death.”
“You can do it.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply go along with the police and close the file? Who needs to waste the emotional energy worrying about an