Page 51 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“Thank you for taking my call,” he began, in a wheedling tone. “I know how valuable your time is. I know I’m asking a lot, and I’ll owe you more than I can say. I have to win this trial.” There was a desperate edge to the words.

He clutched the base of the phone, twisting the cord around his fingers, nodding eagerly at the voice on the other end.

Mitch, face pressed into the crack of the closet door, should have jumped out and ended it right then and there. But something about the scene held him frozen in place – an unfamiliar, twisted sense of elation. The beautiful mansion, the snobbish butler, the blue sedan that matched the living room furniture – none of it mattered. Salinas had abandoned his usual self-satisfaction. He was grovelling. The poverty of his soul glistened on his forehead in a sheen of nervous sweat.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” he was saying. “It’s always a pleasure to speak with you. Yes, of course, you can count on me, it’s all arranged. I can’t thank you enough.”

Ah, the burdens of justice.

Relieved, Salinas hung up the phone and returned to the living room. Mitch remained hidden, listening silently. Then the butler’s voice was back, announcing that someone was there asking to speak to Monsieur.

“I’m not expecting anyone,” the prosecutor huffed impatiently.

“I informed them of that myself, Monsieur, before coming up, but the visitor insists. Says it’s urgent – something to, ah, reveal.”

“Fine. Let’s see what this is all about.”

Salinas and the butler left the room.

* * *

When he was sure the coast was clear, Mitch emerged from the closet. He moved behind the massive desk and sat down in Salinas’s chair. He surveyed the room, unsettled by the feeling creeping over him.

Pity.

Not compassion, or empathy – pity. It was condescending, arrogant, smug. Everything Mitch wasn’t. And yet, that was exactly what he was feeling. Salinas had wealth, power, status. But he was terribly alone – far more so than Mitch had ever been in his prison cell, because it was a loneliness of his own making.

Still, that didn’t change anything. Mitch had made up his mind. He looked at the glass of port, picked it up, set it back down a few seconds later, and left the mansion the same way he’d come.

Chapter 20

A Romantic Rendezvous

Mitch was a man of his word. After leaving Salinas’s house, he went straight to the conservatory to tell Monsieur Verner he was expected at the bookshop every Tuesday and Thursday at lunchtime. At first, the music teacher received the news with cautious curiosity. Then, in a gesture wholly unlike him, he pulled Mitch into a brief hug without saying a word.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m telling you to do this?” Mitch asked.

“Nope.”

“But you’ll be there?”

“Obviously.”

“You do realize I’m not inviting you over for afternoon cocktails, right?”

“That seemed fairly obvious.”

“And you don’t want to know anything else?”

“No.”

“Why the lack of curiosity, may I ask?”

Verner sighed. “Fine, Mitch. I did promise not to say anything, but I owe you one, so… dear Madame Ateltow called and told me your plan. You know what drives me crazy, though? I’ve been saying for years that we should find a secret little spot where we could meet. I even offered to rent a small apartment – told her she could pick the neighbourhood. I suggested we join a gym together, maybe take tango lessons… nothing worked. And now all you had to do was set something up, and she accepted immediately.”

“Is this your way of trying to thank me, Verner?”

“No.”