Hark! (32 page)

He wanted all of this over and done with.

The weddings and whatever the Deaf Man was planning.

All of it.

Toward that end, the Deaf Man's next note was no help at all.

“No, wait,” Willis said. “I think he's trying to tell us something, after all.”

“Yeah, what? There's nothing at all about a concert this time,” Parker said.

“But he's back to something
printed
again. ‘Thy printed worth,' remember? Now he's specifically mentioning a book. ‘I'll to my
book.
' There it is, right there, in black and white. A
book.
”

“I looked at all Shakespeare's plays in the library the other night,” Genero said.

“Good, Richard, you get a gold star.”

“Well, maybe he's telling us to go to the library. To find that missing quote, or whatever.”

“Of course he is,” Parker said, encouraging him. “Maybe in the very same book you looked at the other night.”

“Maybe so.”

“Maybe you can even borrow the book, Richard. Ponder it at your leisure.”

“Well, wait a minute,” Eileen said. “He
did
say ‘borrow or rob,' didn't he? In one of his notes? And that's where you borrow a book, isn't it? A library?”

“First book I ever owned,” Parker said, “I
stole
from the lib'ery.”

“Where's that
Here & Now
?” Eileen asked. “Is there anything about a library in it?”

 

I
N A SECTION
of the magazine titled…

AROUND TOWN

…they found a subsection titled:

Last Chance Department.

Headlined there was an article titled…

Bye Bye, Bard

It read:

 

T
HIS TIME, THEY
Googled directly to
First Folio.
And this time, they found the source of what until now they'd believed was a Shakespearean quote:

The lines of verse had been written “To the memory of Master William Shakespeare” by a contemporary poet and translator named James Mabbe. It appeared in the 1623 First Folio of plays as one of several introductory dedications.

“Never heard of him,” Parker said.

But it now seemed possible that the Deaf Man was directing them to the valuable book that would be leaving the Langdon Library this Saturday. And it seemed further possible that he planned to steal it.

“And hold it for ransom,” Eileen suggested. “ ‘Must sell at tallest sum.' ”

“He's gonna kidnap a
book
?” Genero said.

“
Whatever
he's gonna do, he's doing it before suppertime,” Kling said.

“Sure, look.”

“Three o'clock would seem to qualify,” Brown said.

“Where's the Langdon Library?”

“Midtown South Precinct, isn't it?”

“We'd better alert them.”

“You think they don't already know they've got a six-million-dollar book on their hands?”

“Six million
two.
”

“Security there must be thicker than bear shit.”

“But that's it,” Willis said. “We doped it out, right?”

“Thank you, Mr. Deaf Man,” Genero said, and bowed from the waist.

“Friggin guy's a mind reader,” Parker said.

“What's he mean ‘
girls
'?”

“I'm a girl,” Eileen said, and beamed a Shirley Temple smile.

“He's back to music again.”

“ ‘Musicians.' ”

“ ‘A hall, a hall!' ”

“A
concert
hall!”

“Where's that magazine?”

“Wasn't there something about…?”

“Here.”

Under
DON'T MISS!
, they once again found:

Konstantinos Sallas, “renowned violin virtuoso, guest-starring with the Philharmonic” at Clarendon Hall this Saturday and Sunday at 3:00
P.M.

“Three o'clock again,” Eileen said. “That's still ‘ere suppertime.' ”

“What does he mean by
air
?” Genero asked.

“Before.”

“That would seem to indicate a concert, don't you think?” Carella said. “The word
perform
?”

“No, he's saying he
himself
has to perform,” Meyer said. “He has ‘much business appertaining.' ”

“But it doesn't sound like a book anymore, does it?”

“The son of a bitch is asking us to
choose
!” Parker said.

“Which? The Sallas concert or the Folger First Folio?”

“The concert,” Eileen said.

“The book,” Genero said.

“Both,” Kling said.

It was Brown who tipped.

“A palindrome!” he said. “
Sallas!
”

And now they all jumped in like a Greek chorus.

“Sallas!”

“Sallas!”

“He's going after the violinist!”

“He's going to kidnap the friggin
violinist
!”

“And hold him for the tallest
sum
!”

“Or maybe the book,” Genero insisted, raining on their parade.

“Which?” Carella asked.

T
HE NEXT BARRAGE
of notes—seven of them in all—arrived in the same envelope at two that afternoon. They were all Shakespearean quotes, which in itself seemed to indicate the Deaf Man's target was not some palindromic Greek fiddler, but the pricey book containing thirty-six of the bard's plays. Contrariwise, as was the Deaf Man's wont, the content of the notes seemed to be challenging the detectives to choose. Either or, lads. You pays yer money, and you takes yer choice.

But on the other hand:

Then again:

Unless:

However:

But perhaps:

Thanks for nothing, they were thinking.

A
ND NOW THERE
seemed to be an urgency to the Deaf Man's notes. A sense of impending accomplishment. A certainty that time was running out, the deed would soon be done, and if they didn't catch on soon, it would be too damned late.

The previous envelope had contained seven notes.

This one arrived a half-hour later, and there was just a single note in it:

“Party's getting rough again,” Parker said, and winked at Eileen.

 

T
HE THING WAS
, Ollie was looking for either a redhead with short hair, or a brunette with long hair. He wasn't looking for the feather-cut, elegantly dressed blonde who came into the park at three that afternoon and took a bench facing the river. He had no idea that this was Melissa Summers.

Nor did Melissa have any idea that the fat guy sitting on a bench near the playground equipment here in Cathleen Gleason Park was a detective. Most detectives she'd known worked out in the gym and had muscles on their muscles. This guy looked more like a pedophile, but she didn't have any kids here in the park, so let their mothers worry. Besides, after chasing junkies all day long, all she wanted to do was sit here peacefully and listen to the sound of the distant river.

In any case, neither of the two paid the slightest bit of attention to the other.

At three-fifteen, Melissa got up, heaved a gentle sigh, left the park, and started back for the apartment on River Place South. She was thinking that on Sunday at this time, she'd be basking on a beach in Tortola.