A grand piano occupied one corner of the room. A middle-aged woman dressed in a beaded gown, her blond hair piled high, played a classic show tune. Her makeup was elaborate. Rhinestones dripped from her ears and draped her throat and wrists.
The clientele was a surprising mix of male and female, but the body language made it clear that the men and women at the tables were friends, not dates. The dress code was eclectic, tending toward high-end designer jeans, shirts and slouchy jackets for the men. The drinks were mostly variations on martinis and cosmopolitans.
A few heads turned when Sam and Abby walked into the room, butafter a brief, discreet scrutiny, everyone went back to their drinks and conversation.
Nick sat alone in a booth at the back of the room. There was a blue martini on the table in front of him, but it appeared to be untouched. Abby slid onto the seat across from him. Sam sat down beside her. Nick gave him a bored look.
“I see you’re still hanging around,” Nick said.
“Sure,” Sam said. “I live in hope that one day you and I will be friends.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“I’m crushed, of course,” Sam said. “But I’m sure I’ll get over it.”
Abby leaned forward. “What’s going on, Nick?”
“As of five-thirty this afternoon, I am no longer your competition,” Nick said. “I fired my client, and I stopped looking for that hot encrypted book. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll quit looking for it, too.”
“What happened?” Abby asked.
“Benny Sparrow had a heart attack and died in his shop last night.”
“Not Benny, too,” Abby whispered.
“Yeah.” Nick took a small taste of his drink and set the glass down. “I was willing to overlook Webber’s heart attack. He was an old man and in bad health. Stuff happens. But now that Benny has checked out the exact same way, we’re looking at one too many coincidences.”
“Who was Benny Sparrow?” Sam asked.
“One of the three or four deep-end dealers most likely to be using the alias of Milton,” Nick said.
“The killer must have gotten Benny’s name from Thaddeus,” Abby said.
“Looks like it,” Nick said.
“Do you think Benny had the notebook?” Sam asked.
“If he did, the killer has it now,” Nick said. “We won’t know one way or another until we find out if the auction is still on. So far, therehasn’t been any update.” He turned to Abby. “This thing is way beyond a deep-end deal. We’re talking the Mariana Trench. Time to bail, my friend.”
“I can’t, Nick,” Abby said.
“Listen to me, Abby. You need to dump Coppersmith here, and get the hell out of Dodge. Like right now. I’m leaving town tonight. You can come with me.”
“If the book is locked in a psi-code, then leaving town won’t do me much good,” Abby pointed out. “If the killer does have the book and decides he needs me, he’ll come looking. I can’t run forever.”
“I can set you up with a clean ID,” Nick said. “I made new, updated sets for you and Gwen a while back, just in case.”
“Thanks, but it would be hard for me to disappear permanently,” Abby said. “My family may not be close, but trust me, a lot of my relatives would notice if I just up and vanished tonight.”
“Not to mention me,” Sam said. “I’d notice, too.”
Nick glared at him. “You still think you can take care of her?”
“I’m in a better position to protect her than you are,” Sam said.
Abby gave Nick a worried look. “Where are you going?”
“To Hawaii to join Gwen. Got a reservation on a red-eye. I’m taking an extended vacation until this auction is over.”
