A Deadly Edition

by Victoria Gilbert

  Kurt’s wolfish smile returned. “You are quite right, Dr. Chen. Both Oscar and I wish to purchase the Kelmscott. It’s a rare edition of the works of Geoffrey Chaucer,” he added, casting me a significant glance.

  I widened my eyes. “From William Morris’s personal press? Wow, that must be worth a fortune.”

  Aunt Lydia stiffened, as if the mention of this particular book pained her. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she adjusted her expression to something more pleasant and fixed her gaze on Kurt. “I didn’t know you collected and sold books. I thought you specialized in art and antiques.”

  Hugh took hold of Aunt Lydia’s hand and slipped her arm through his. “It’s an illustrated manuscript, dear. William Morris designed the title, borders, and initials, and it also includes eighty-some woodcut illustrations by Edward Burne-Jones. It was typeset by Morris himself, on handmade paper.”

  “And only four hundred and twenty-five copies were printed.” The gleam in Kurt’s eyes betrayed his desire for this particular object.

  “So quite rare,” Richard said.

  “Exceedingly. Which is why Oscar is determined to buy it.” Kurt shrugged. “As am I, but not with quite the same level of desperation.”

  I considered the dapper older man I’d run into earlier. He had seemed rather on edge, as if his effusive banter was masking anxiety. “He came here today to convince you to back off and allow him to purchase the book?”

  “Something like that. I told him we’d talk later and suggested that he enjoy the party in the meantime.”

  Sunny shot Kurt a speculative glance. “It almost seemed like he was sneaking off to meet someone, didn’t it, Amy?”

  “Maybe he was just snooping around. Trying to scope out Kurt’s property in case he needed to make a hasty exit later. After you two had your little talk, I mean.” I gazed up into Kurt’s impassive face. “I know how intimidating those talks can be.”

  “Nonsense. I am the gentlest of souls.” Kurt bared his teeth in another grin.

  Aunt Lydia audibly sniffed. “Right. Anyway, I wish you luck with your little competition over that book. I suppose I can say that?” she added, turning to Hugh.

  Her companion inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I think this time I can approve Mr. Kendrick’s efforts.” He met Kurt’s sardonic expression with a cool smile. “This appears to be a wholly legitimate enterprise.”

  I bit back a snarky comment. Hugh, an art expert who was often called on to establish the authenticity of acquisitions for the National Gallery of Art and other prestigious institutions, had long sought evidence to prove Kurt’s guilt in various illegal art operations. But so far—and much to Kurt’s amusement—Hugh had experienced no success in this endeavor.

  “I’m sure that disappoints you,” Kurt said, before his gaze swung up and over Hugh’s head. “There’s Oscar and his assistant now, making a beeline for us. No doubt to bend your ear about some piece of art he’d like you to authenticate, Dr. Chen. Be forewarned.”

  As Selvaggio joined our group, I noticed that his breath was labored, as if he’d just run in from somewhere. Or away from someone? I thought, as he clasped his hands in front of his chest. The young woman trailing him was dressed in a simple gray dress that hung loosely on her slight frame. She kept her head down and her gaze focused on her plain black loafers.

  “But here’s the happy couple, together at last. Congratulations upon your upcoming nuptials,” Selvaggio said.

  Richard shook the hand Selvaggio had thrust out like a rapier. “Thank you, Mr.…?”

  “Selvaggio. Oscar Selvaggio,” the man replied with a quick glance at Kurt. “But surely Mr. Kendrick has told you all about me.”

  “Not so much,” Aunt Lydia said. “Only that you also deal in art and antiques and that you are both vying to buy some rare book.”

  “Not just any book—a Kelmscott Chaucer.” Selvaggio met Hugh’s speculative gaze. “Dr. Chen, how delightful to see you again. We met at the opening of that Picasso exhibit in Madrid, if I recall correctly. But”—his eyes glittered like chips of onyx—“on that occasion you did not have this lovely lady on your arm. I would certainly have remembered her.”

  “We hadn’t yet met at that time,” Hugh said, pulling Aunt Lydia a little closer. “May I introduce Lydia Talbot? She lives in Taylorsford in a beautiful Queen Anne revival home that her family built around 1900.”

  “And she was my former neighbor.” Kurt moved to stand beside the rival dealer. “When I was young, that is. As a child, she lived next door to my foster father, Paul Dassin. Actually, she still lives there, but now Richard is her neighbor. He inherited Paul’s house.”

  “Ah, yes, I see.” Selvaggio’s bewildered expression belied this statement.

  “Paul Dassin was my great-uncle,” Richard said, offering Selvaggio a warm smile. “But don’t worry about trying to figure all this out. It’s pretty complicated. The short version is that Paul was a foster father to Kurt for several years, and my mother was Paul’s niece. That’s how we’re connected.”

  “And Lydia is my aunt,” I volunteered. “I live with her.”

  “For now,” Aunt Lydia said.

  “Of course, I’ll be moving into Richard’s house, that is, Paul Dassin’s old house, after we’re married.”

  “Of course,” Oscar Selvaggio said, with a bright smile that didn’t hide the confusion in his eyes.

  “One big happy family,” Kurt said dryly.

  Sunny snorted in a decidedly unladylike fashion that raised Aunt Lydia’s eyebrows. “Sorry,” Sunny said. “I guess I just hadn’t realized how convoluted all your relationships were until you attempted to explain it to poor Mr. Selvaggio.” She flashed the plump art dealer a smile. “I’m Sunshine Fields, by the way. No relation to anyone here. Just a friend.” She peered around him to stare at the woman standing a few paces behind. “But you haven’t introduced your friend, Mr. Selvaggio.”

  The art dealer shot a quick glance at the quiet young woman. “Ah yes, I almost forgot. This is my assistant, Honor Bryant.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Sunny said, before the rest of us offered our greetings.

  “Can I get you a drink, Ms. Bryant?” Richard asked.

  “Thank you, but I’m not a guest,” said Honor Bryant. “I’m just here to help Mr. Selvaggio.” Her tone was as subdued as her expression.

  “Nonsense, I insist you enjoy yourself. Oscar shouldn’t force you to work at a party,” Kurt said, his gaze shifting to focus on something he’d apparently glimpsed over my shoulder. “Here come your parents, Amy. Accompanied by a young man I don’t believe I’ve ever met.”

  Turning to face the archway that led into the hall, I noticed the immediate change in Oscar Selvaggio’s expression. His mouth opened as if he’d just spied a monstrous spider as he stared directly at the man who stood in front of my parents—a young man with dark hair and deep-brown eyes, wearing khaki slacks, an ivory cotton sweater, and heavy tortoiseshell glasses.

  My younger brother, Scott Webber.

  Chapter Two

  I quickly crossed to the archway, Richard following right behind me. “This is a surprise,” I said to Scott, while Richard greeted my parents. I gave my brother a hug before stepping back to look him over.

  It had been a while since we’d seen each other. With Scott’s erratic schedule, frequent work-related trips, and almost pathological aversion to chatting by cell phone or text, we weren’t in contact much. But he hadn’t changed. He still presented the image of a stereotypical computer nerd, downplaying his good looks.

  I’d always suspected that his understated appearance was calculated. He claimed to be a cybersecurity expert, but my parents and I had long suspected that his silence about what he really did on the job, his frequent mysterious trips, and his high level of government clearance meant he was actually working for one of the U.S. intelligence agencies. Perhaps not just behind a desk.

  “I knew Mom and Dad were coming but didn’t realize you could
make it,” I said.

  Scott shrugged. “I was visiting, and when they told me about the party, I thought, why not? I did follow them out here in my own car, though, so don’t be surprised if I leave a little early.”

  He turned to shake hands with Richard, whom he’d met a few times and seemed to like. Although with Scott, it was hard to tell. He was the type of person who kept his opinions to himself.

  “You look happy,” my mom said approvingly before giving me a quick hug.

  My brother and I had both taken after our mother, whose short, compact build and cap of silver-winged brown hair was a vivid contrast to our dad’s tall, gangly figure and shoulder-length dark locks, which he kept pulled into a tidy ponytail. After Mom stepped back, Dad swooped in to give me another, more exuberant hug.

  “I hope she’s happy. Or else I’m doing something wrong,” Richard said.

  “Your parents are here?” Mom asked, her tone as light as meringue.

  Richard shot her a conspiratorial look. “They’re around somewhere. Nursing grudges.” He grinned. “I mean, glasses of champagne.”

  Dad guffawed as Scott’s eyebrows rose above the frames of his glasses. “Sounds like an interesting party,” my brother said.

  “Always is when the parental units are involved,” Richard replied. “But let’s not talk about that. You should check out the spread Kurt’s provided. It’s quite impressive.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Mom said. “I still remember that dinner we had here. The meal was just superb.”

  “Hard to forget that dinner,” my dad said with a chuckle.

  Richard’s grin broadened. “And not just because of the food.”

  “Welcome, Debbie and Nick. So glad you could make it.” Kurt circled around Richard and me to shake hands with Dad and kiss my mom on the cheek. “And this must be the elusive Scott.”

  As my brother shook Kurt’s hand, he gazed up into the older man’s face. Although Kurt towered over him, Scott’s expression betrayed no trace of intimidation. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kendrick. I’ve heard a great deal about you too.”

  “Have you now?” Kurt’s fingers tightened as he studied my brother. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear. My reputation includes some rather egregious exaggerations.”

  “I know how to sift fact from fiction,” Scott said, pulling his hand free of Kurt’s tight grip.

  “I’m not sure if anyone’s told you, Kurt, but Scott works in computers like his dad,” Mom said. “But he specializes in cybersecurity rather than programming.”

  “How interesting,” Kurt said, in a tone that told me he already knew this and that he, like me, might suspect Scott of being involved in activities that went beyond a computer screen.

  I frowned as I stared at the art dealer, wondering just how much he knew about all of us. I was aware that he ran a network of unofficial spies who kept him informed on matters related to his businesses.

  Not all of which might be entirely legal, I thought, as my gaze slid from Kurt’s rugged face to Scott’s disinterested smile. I’d seen that look before. It usually meant my brother was processing vital information. I pondered this as Kurt welcomed Aunt Lydia and Hugh into our little group. Glancing around the room, I realized Sunny had wandered over to the room’s large front windows to talk with some of our other friends, including Walt Adams and Zelda Shoemaker.

  It’s obvious Kurt has done a little digging into Scott’s background. What isn’t clear is exactly how much Scott knows about Kurt. I side-eyed my brother as he shook hands with Hugh before hugging our aunt. But he knows something.

  I also noticed that Oscar Selvaggio and his assistant hadn’t followed the others. In fact, Honor Bryant had disappeared, while Selvaggio was loitering by a door at the back of the room that led into the hall. I moved closer to Scott and tapped his arm. “Have you ever met that man before?” I asked, surreptitiously pointing toward Selvaggio. “He seemed shocked to see you here.”

  Scott shrugged. “People always think they’ve met me before, even when they’re complete strangers. I just have one of those faces, I guess.”

  Which wasn’t really an answer. I considered saying more but decided to drop my inquiry when I heard Aunt Lydia say something about Scott staying with her for a few weeks.

  “Until the wedding, actually,” she said, when Kurt murmured something about that being a pleasant surprise.

  “I’ve neglected her for far too long, to be honest.” Scott cast a bright smile at Aunt Lydia. “And since I had a little time off, I figured it would be nice to hang out in Taylorsford. Especially with the wedding coming up. Thought maybe I could help out with a few things.”

  “Sounds good,” Richard said. “But be warned—since you’re my only groomsman, I may need to lean on you quite a bit.”

  Scott threw his arm around my shoulder. “That’s okay. It’s not every day that my older sister gets married.”

  “And you won’t actually be doing everything on your own,” I said. “Richard’s best friend, Karla, will be glad to help.”

  “That’s right, she’s going to be the ‘best woman,’ isn’t she? Interesting choice,” Hugh said, directing his comment to Richard.

  “My parents would call it a misguided one, but everyone else seems cool with it.” Richard shrugged. “Not that I really care what other people say.”

  “I think it’s lovely,” Mom said. “Especially since you two have been friends since, what? College?”

  “High school,” Richard replied. “Although we did have that span of years when we lost touch. But I’m working with some of Karla’s dance students now, and the two of us are back collaborating on dance pieces. Oh”—Richard turned to Kurt—“I forgot to tell you that we’ve raised some additional money to fund the mountain folktale project.”

  “That’s wonderful. Just remember—I hope I get invited to a rehearsal or two,” Kurt said.

  “Of course. Especially since your seed money helped get the ball rolling. Thanks again for that.”

  “Always happy to support the arts,” Kurt said.

  Glancing across the room, I noticed Oscar Selvaggio checking out a tall, statuesque woman who was striding toward the position he’d staked out at the door to the hall. He looked her up and down as she swept past him.

  “Speaking of Karla, will you all excuse me for a moment? I have something I wanted to ask her.” I held up my hand as Richard took a step forward as if to join me. “In private.”

  Richard’s eyes brightened. “Is this in relation to some surprise for me?”

  “Maybe. And no, I won’t tell you what it is,” I said, sliding my hand across my lips as if zipping them shut.

  “I bet I can make you tell me, sooner or later,” he said, leaning in to brush my lips with his.

  I gave his chest a playful push with the palm of my hand and stepped back. “I bet you won’t.”

  “What’s the wager?” he asked, as my parents grinned and my aunt rolled her eyes.

  “Enough, you two.” Aunt Lydia shared a look of mock exasperation with my mom. “Sometimes I think they’re in their teens instead of their thirties.”

  “It’s love,” my dad said. “Makes you act silly.”

  “On that note, I think I’ll go ahead and talk to Karla. Before I receive any more compliments from my loving family.” I patted Richard’s arm. “If you’re sure you’ll feel safe left alone with this vicious crowd, that is.”

  Richard grinned. “I think I can manage.”

  “All right. See you all in a few minutes.” I dashed off to follow Karla, who’d stepped into the hall.

  “Hold up,” I said when I reached her. “I wanted to ask you a favor. You can say no,” I added as she paused midstride.

  She widened her hazel eyes as she gazed down at me. “I was just headed to the dining room for a glass of water.”

  Karla Tansen was tall and big-boned for a woman, and especially for a female dancer. While I thought she resembled the stature of some a
ncient Greek goddess brought to life, her larger-than-average build had caused most dance companies to reject her back when she’d first left college. Since she was one of the most brilliant dancers I’d ever seen perform, this was a travesty. Fortunately, she’d made a name for herself as a dance instructor specializing in working with children with special needs.

  And now she was also once again dancing with Richard, whose choreography was in demand by many of the very companies that had rejected his close friend and partner when they were young. Poetic justice, I thought, offering Karla a warm smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ambush you. I just want to ask if you’ll help me with a little surprise for Richard. For the wedding, I mean.”

  “Of course. Whatever you need,” Karla said.

  As we strolled into Kurt’s elegant dining room, Honor Bryant swept past us, clutching a brown glass mug by its handle. She didn’t make eye contact.

  Focused on getting a drink for her boss, I thought. He seems like the type who’d demand his subordinates to jump whenever he says so.

  Thanking my lucky stars that I was basically my own boss and only had to answer to the Taylorsford Town Council, I glanced at the long dining table that stretched beneath two sparkling crystal chandeliers. It was draped in white linen tablecloths and laden with a colorful array of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.

  Karla crossed to a side table that held cut-glass pitchers of water, lemonade, and tea, as well as iridescent glass tumblers. “Only Mr. Kendrick would have amassed such a collection of carnival glass and actually use it,” she said as she filled a tumbler with water.

  “And the china is Limoges. No paper plates or plastic forks in this house, that’s for sure.”

  Karla took a sip of water before replying. “I guess it’s just how the other half—no wait, the other one percent—lives. But anyway, what is it you wanted to ask me?”

  “Well”—I glanced around to make sure none of the other people in the dining room were close enough to hear—“I wondered if you would give me a few dance lessons. Before the wedding, I mean.”

  Karla arched her feathery eyebrows. “For the first dance or something?”