Page 14 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Polished Off

didn’t, either. Once he expressed interest in it, she started playing
some sick little game with him, dangling the book like bait, watching
him struggle against her excessive demands. I think she lowered the
price once a few dollars, and that kept him coming back, begging and
whimpering like a whipped puppy. Disgusting.”
Iris didn’t look disgusted: she looked quite pleased with the
memory. I glanced at Lieutenant Gramercy. She was flipping through
her notes.
“I observed that none of the older books have prices marked on
them. Does that mean anyone interested in them had to discuss it
with Ms. Trench, or were you authorized to make the sale?”
“That was a policy instituted by her father, K. Mann Trench. He
didn’t want to lock up the rare books, because he figured that doing
so would attract petty thieves, and that no ignorant customer would
casually browse them because they look all beaten up. He knew all
the real collectors and trusted them not to steal. How’s that for an
old-fashioned attitude? The value of those books varies over the
years depending on market conditions, which he knew and which he
assumed his clients would know, as well. And I suppose the absence
of a marked price also put off the Great Unwashed, on the principle
that if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
This was too much for me. “Really, Iris, you didn’t answer the
question. Did you deal with these books or not?”
“Really, Counselor, you didn’t give me a chance.” She stuck out
her tongue, stained almost to natural pinkness by the gob of gum
insufficiently concealed by the faltering fence of her front teeth. “I
could have handled these customers, but she wouldn’t let me.
Particularly if they were men.”
She winked horribly, lacking nothing but a corncob pipe to be a
double for Mammy Yokum in the old Li’l Abner comic strip. I felt
my attempt to get straight unequivocal statements from this witness
was not wholly successful. While I shuffled through a mental
transcript of Iris’s remarks in order to frame the next probative
question, Labelle looked up from her notes and spoke.
“How long was he in the office with Mariana?”
“Couldn’t have been more than a minute or two. I remember
hearing her laugh in that peculiar scornful way she had when she
wanted to make someone feel truly insignificant, and then he came

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