The next morning, Boone, Ivan, and Frank appeared at our suite door at 8 a.m. sharp with the most impressive array of pastries and coffee accoutrement I had ever seen. I could have kissed them, but that would have been more than slightly awkward.
After making myself a coffee with the most delicious honey-flavored creamer I’d ever known, I sat down with the pastry that most resembled a bear claw and looked at Boone. “So, what’s next, Boss?”
He was across the table from me, but when he held my gaze, I felt a heat from him like he was sitting next to me. I looked down into my coffee up and most definitely did not look over at Adaire. “We’ve got our counter offers set,” he said and pushed the laptop over to Beattie. “So, I think our buyer is clear.”
Beattie read the screen and then spun the laptop toward me. I scanned the four emails and saw that the red-headed woman had taken the set for considerably more than everyone else. “All right, now what?”
“Now, you contact her and set up a meeting. I’ll be there, supposedly as your bodyguard, and we’ll see what we can learn about her,” Aaran said.
“Let her pick the location this time. Act like it’s a show of good faith,” Boone added. “That alone should help us figure out what’s happening.”
Aaran and Ivan nodded.
“And Adaire,” Boone continued, turning to the other end of the table where Adaire was very quiet, “I need you to take up what Xavier was doing. Are you up to that?” Boone’s face was neutral, but I could hear a tinge of concern beneath the surface.
“I am,” Adaire said, sitting up straighter if as having an assignment was just what he needed. Maybe it was. “Where do I start?”
“I’m going to go with Poe to the meeting, but Beattie, you and Adaire work out a way to procure the Gordimer and get us as much information on the sellers as you can,” Boone said.
The room got quiet for just a beat, and then Beattie said, “Sounds good. Adaire, let’s get going, okay?” She picked up the laptop and proceeded into the living room, where Ivan joined them. Apparently, we had our trios, and I was with mine.
Boone took out another laptop and slid his chair closer to me while Aaran sat down on my other side. I was hemmed in by canny and strength, and I didn’t hate it. Especially the canny part. At least, that was, until I looked up and saw Adaire watching me through the doorway. Aaran watched me watching him.
With a quick motion, Boone flipped open the laptop. “Do your thing,” he said, pointing the laptop toward me and sitting back.
I scanned the woman’s offer and replied that we were accepting and would meet today at 2 p.m. at a location of her choosing.
“Why 2 p.m.?” Frank asked.
I shrugged. “I figure that if she gets to pick the place, I get to pick the time.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a wide smile spread out across Boone’s face, but I looked directly at Aaran, who said, “Good plan.”
I sent the message and got up to fix myself another cup of coffee. I made a mental note to find out if that honey creamer was available in the US because I was already hooked. It was the most delicious addition to coffee I’d ever had, even better than vanilla, which was saying something in my world.
With my coffee mug in hand, I wandered out onto the balcony of our suite, expecting it to take at least a few minutes for our buyer to respond. A moment after I’d leaned against the railing, I heard the door close again and turned, expecting to see Beattie. Instead, it was Boone with his own mug.
“I’m sorry about you and Adaire,” he said, taking up his own face-forward lean out over the harbor below.
“Thanks. It’s for the best, but these things are always hard, especially now,” I said, with desire to both tell Boone more and to keep my secrets warring inside me. I intuitively decided on a middle ground. “Attraction is always hard, even when it’s appealing.”
Boone looked at me out of the corner of his eye and I turned away from him to face the other end of the balcony, looking out over the sea beyond. “It is, and it’s more complicated when work is involved,” he said quietly.
“Undoubtedly,” I said. “I have come to trust that time will work these things out.”
I heard him laugh. “Time and focused attention… at the right moment,” he said, and then I heard his footsteps as he walked back to the door.
My heart was pounding, and I felt a little flushed. We’d said nothing overt, yet we said everything. But the right moment was not then, so once again, I soldiered my internal resources and focused on the day ahead. At 2 p.m., we were meeting to do an illegal book sale, and I had to have my full wits about me.
A few moments later when I walked back into the suite, I saw all the men playing cards around the dining room table. Beattie wasn’t with them, so I walked to her room and knocked. When she told me to come in, I took three steps through the door and dropped onto her bed dramatically. “I hate dating,” I said.
“If I were you, I’d hate it, too,” she said after quietly shutting the door. “You and Adaire?”
“We broke up, and I thought it was mutual. He actually started the conversation, but now….” I stared up at the ceiling.
“Now, what’s really happening is more clear?” Beattie said as she lay down next to me.
“I wouldn’t go that far. I have no idea why he really did it. Xavier. Boone. Something else,” I sighed. “But he does look sad, doesn’t he?”
Beattie nodded. “But Poe, how he feels is not your responsibility. How do you feel?”
I thought back to last night, when Adaire and I were watching TV, at how easy that felt, at how much lighter I felt in general. “I’m good. At least as far as Adaire is concerned.” I shook my head. “I don’t know about Boone.”
“Oh you know about Boone. Or at least you want to… but you’re right to wait. Give yourself some time.” She took a deep breath. “That one is going to be good.”
“What one?” I said, trying to act innocent.
“Seriously, woman, any man who cares that much about how he looks cares a lot about the woman he’s with.” She laughed then and said, “Speaking of which, I feel like girl time. Makeovers?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Just a sec.” I texted Boone to see if we’d had a response.
His answer was short and clear. 2 p.m. at the Clock Tower. It’s a short walk. Relax for a while.
I relayed the plan to Beattie, and she took my phone. “No emoji?” she says before handing it back.
I shrugged. “Who knows what that man is thinking?”
“Oh, I know what that man is thinking, and there’s not an emoji for that,” she said with a laugh before she sat down on the floor. “You do my hair first, and then I’ll give you a facial.”
Three hours later, I was super relaxed from my facial, my pedicure, and my full-on makeup and hair session. Plus, Beattie and I looked fierce in a sort of coastal, laid-back way. I was pretty proud of the look I’d given my best friend, all flowing waves and shimmering makeup, and she’d managed to make me look badass but also boho, just the way I liked it.
When I came out of Beattie’s room at 1, the guys had set up quite a spread for lunch—all kinds of meats, cheeses, and veggies plus several options for rolls lined the counter in the kitchen, and after I filled my plate with a sandwich and a few salads, I sat down and said, “So are we all set with the Gordimer as well?” I addressed my question to Aaran because, well, that was easier than looking at Adaire.
“Yep, they’ve contacted the seller, explained our interest, and arranged a meeting at a location near ours in just under an hour,” Aaran answered. “That way, we can be each other’s backup.”
I didn’t know how feasible that sounded, but I wasn’t the master spy here so I nodded. “Okay, Beattie, you know what to look for?” Just a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have dared to ask that question of my far more experienced best friend, but in this case with this book, I was the expert.
“‘To Wilma, with love, Daddy.’ Right?” she said.
“Right. That inscription is what makes that book so valuable because it’s inscribed to Wilma Barrett, daughter of Dale Barrett, the well-known publisher.” I looked around the room from Adaire to Ivan. “The book itself is valuable, but the inscription is what makes this one especially so. Barrett was Gordimer’s publisher for this particular book.”
My fascination with South Africa had begun when I was in high school and my teacher had assigned Biko, the biography of the famous South African civil rights activist. I had been taken by his cause, but I had quickly learned, as I had also later learned when studying the American Civil Rights Movement, that the work of justice was as different as the cultures in which the work took place. I’d gone on to read everything Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu had ever written, and when I’d exhausted the nonfiction, I’d turned to the fiction of the place to give me a deeper sense of the country.
I’d read everything by the most well-known South African writers, Gordimer, Coetzee, Paton, all of them white, not surprisingly, but then I’d delved into the work of Zakes Mda and Achmat Dangor. I’d gotten so informed about South African literature that I’d even begun using it as a basis for one of our composition courses when I taught because it was a great way to talk about persuasion and storytelling while also giving my students a little world history at the same time.
So this Gordimer book was important to me, even though I couldn’t care less about the inscription and the people connected to it. The book was rare in first edition, and while I wouldn’t personally own a book that came from a questionable source, I was eager to have the book get back into legitimate circulation, something Boone had assured me would happen once we were done with our operation.
I gave Beattie a few more things to look for, including jacket color, binding color, and copyright page information; then I took a deep breath as my three friends headed out the door. My breath quickly left my body, though, when Boone slipped his arm around my waist and led me to follow Frank and Aaran out the door, saying, “You look absolutely gorgeous.”
On the ride down in the elevator, I managed to gather my thoughts and my breath back into my body, and by the time we’d made the walk around the harbor to the Clock Tower, I was ready to do business. Our buyer was already there, and when she saw us, she gave a jovial wave and smiled at me. If I hadn’t known we were doing something nefarious, I might have actually been eager to spend the afternoon with her. She seemed so happy.
Frank was carrying the books in a large black filing box that someone had found for the purpose. It looked enough like a briefcase to not be too noticeable, but it also allowed us to lock the box and have some semblance of security until the funds were acquired. As we approached our buyer grinned and said, “Ooh, a new box for my collection.”
I didn’t think I wanted to know what she stored in that collection—more stolen books perhaps—so I didn’t ask. But I did smile at her and say hello.
“It is so good to see you again, Poe. I’m glad you accepted my offer,” she motioned for me to sit on the bench next to her, and Frank and Aaran took seats nearby on another bench.
“You know my name,” I said, more to show her I recognized the power dynamics at play than out of surprise. I’m easy enough to locate now that Boone had built a dossier for me online. Most of what it says is accurate to my life, except the bits about my knowledge as a book collector. That’s all fudged because, except for my own areas of academic study, I know very little about book collecting despite Beattie’s best efforts
“I do, and as is only fair, I’ll tell you mine. I’m Bev.” She put out her hand as if we were meeting for the first time and shook mine. “Now that that is out of the way, I have your check,” she said and held up the single slip of paper. “I’ll just need to confirm that the books are the same as I saw yesterday, and we can all be on our way.”
I gestured for Frank to bring the box over, and when he did, Bev peeked inside, nodded, and handed me the check. Frank went back to his bench, sans box this time.
“All seems to be in order,” Bev said. “Do tour the Clock Tower. It’s beautiful and so important to our city’s history.” She stood and then turned back to me. “And I’m sorry about your friend Xavier. What a shame.” With that, she turned and walked away.
I watched her go and tried to slow my pounding heart as I held Frank’s gaze and saw that he was willing me to stay calm. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, I thought to myself until Bev turned the corner of a building. Then, I bolted to Frank.
“She knew about Xavier,” I almost shouted.
He patted the bench next to him, and I sat down. “She did, but it’s not exactly secret. I’m sure it’s been in the newspaper.”
This made sense, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bev had mentioned what she had for a purpose, perhaps a rather maligned purpose. I leaned back against the bench and stared at the water and boats as I tried to figure out what my intuition knew and my brain had yet to figure out.
A yacht came by pulling a dinghy beside it. The yacht was named “Two Compadres,” and I chuckled as I saw that the dingy had been named, “Second Compadre.” Then, I sat bolt upright.
“She knew he was my friend,” I blurted.
Frank looked over at me languidly, sort of like those sloths at the motor vehicles office in that kids’ movie, and nodded. “Yep.”
“So it was a threat?” I said, with less confidence than I felt.
“Yep.”
“So she killed Xavier?”
Frank shrugged. “We don’t know that.”
“But, but, but….”
Frank stretched, then put his large hand on my head, tousling my hair like I was six. “All we know is that she knows Xavier died and that he was your friend. We also know she wanted to threaten you or at least make you on edge by sharing the fact that she knew this information.”
I nodded. “But why threaten me unless she wanted me to think she killed Xavier?”
“Why indeed?” Frank stood. “Let’s go tell Boone and Aaran.”
The harbor was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also incredibly busy. Boats were moving in and out of docks all the time across the water, and around them crews were scrambling to tie off or untie lines. It was fascinating to watch, especially since I didn’t know anything at all about boating.
But I didn’t have much time to learn since Boone and Aaran were just across the way and walking to meet us as we approached. “You okay?” Boone asked as he looked at me and then at Frank.
I handed him the check. “Yes, except….”
“The buyer, Bev, mentioned Xavier,” Frank interrupted me and gave me a gentle bump on the arm as he did so. Clearly, he thought it best if he share that bit of information.
Boone raised one eyebrow. “Oh? In what context?”
I wanted to shout that she had threatened me, but I managed enough self-control to let Frank handle this question.
“She knew about Poe and Xavier’s relationship,” Frank said matter-of-factly. “She mentioned it as she parted.”
“Interesting,” Boone said. In fact, that was all he said before he turned and began to walk back to the hotel.
I took a long stride to catch up with him, but Frank slipped his arm around my shoulder and held me back. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on here, why Frank was managing me this way, but I trusted Frank. So I held back and tried to focus on the beautiful day.
We were a silent group as we walked into the hotel and rode the elevator to our floor. As usual, I had more than a hundred questions all vying for space on my tongue, but I was getting better at holding them back because I simply waved to Frank as Aaran and I let ourselves into our suite.
Beattie and Adaire weren’t back yet, and I was glad, even though I was eager to hear if they’d found the Gordimer book. But I needed a little space emotionally after my meeting with Bev and to keep working through the break-up.
“Want company?” Aaran said as I dropped onto the couch.
I looked over my shoulder at him and saw he was already halfway to his room. “No thanks. Just some quiet.”
He nodded and slipped behind his door. These Anderson men were very intuitive. It was a trait I liked.
Outside the bubble-shaped window, the sun was lowering in the sky, and the light had changed to something more golden, more tender. The way sunshine looked at the end of the day always soothed something in me, like it was caressing my spirit. I needed that comfort today. I let myself sit back and just relax.
The next thing I knew, Beattie was sprinting into the room, a book tucked under her arm, and shouting, “They’ve taken Adaire.”
I was up and moving as quickly as I could, but of course Aaran was faster. He was already out the door and down the hall when I got to our suite’s door. There was no catching him, so I turned back to Beattie. “What happened?”
She shook her head. “I’m not exactly sure. Maybe Ivan saw more.”
At that moment, the door to Boone’s suite opened, and he and Ivan strode out. “Let’s go,” Boone said.
Beattie tucked the book behind the cushions of the living room couch, and we half-jogged down the hall to the elevator. I asked my question again, “What happened?”
“Two men. Bicycles with a cart.” Ivan shook his head. “They were professionals.”
Boone nodded. “That’s a pretty distinctive kidnapping method. Why not a van? Or a car even? Why not just walk him around the corner and then shove him into a vehicle?”
I hadn’t known Boone long, but I knew him well enough to realize this was his brainstorming process.
“They wanted us to see him get taken,” Beattie said quietly.
Boone looked at her sharply as the elevator door opened. “Exactly.”