“Marshall’s Oddities,” Calvin answered as he turned to stare at me, folder still in hand.
“Oddities. Yeah, I know that shop. I’ve met the guy once before, then.”
“And?”
I raised my hands. “And what? If I recall, he was a bit of a jerk.”
“Seems other antique shops have a problem with you.”
“Oh no, Oddities just opened. He’s new to the scene,” I said. “He gave me grief because of some deal I offered a client for whatever silly trinket they were selling. I hardly remember the details. It was early this year.”
“It seemed to me he deals in similar items as you.”
“He does. Or tries, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, my clientele is growing every year, that’s all. Take from that what you will. What does this have to do with anything?”
Calvin shut the folder and set it carefully on his desk. “Mr. Thompson claims to have received a disturbing phone call, demanding to hand over ‘Tamerlane.’”
I considered this information carefully, knowing Calvin shouldn’t have been sharing it, and I wanted to learn more. “When did he get the phone call?”
“Yesterday.”
“And?”
Calvin looked at me. “And what?”
“You think something is off about it, don’t you?”
“How did you guess?”
“I don’t know. I never received any phone call. Mike neither, right?”
Calvin shook his head. “But you both received letters in the mail. I’m trying to get records of Mr. Thompson’s phone.”
“Do you think this psycho is escalating?”
“Maybe,” Calvin admitted. “But it doesn’t seem right. He’s always kept himself hidden behind Poe’s work. His threats—love notes—it’s all to do with Poe. He’s never admitted to being himself, never disengaged from the writing.”
“Do you think Mr. Oddities is making it up?”
“I’ve considered it, but we’ve kept this pretty wrapped up. I don’t know how he would have gotten these details.”
“This guy seems to be striking at all of the antique shops in the city, then. Maybe—wait, did Gregory tell you exactly what the man said on the phone?”
Calvin stared at me for a moment before opening the folder again and flipping through several pages. “Where’s the book,” he read. “He said the voice was distorted and difficult to make out, sounded like there was some weeping, then it ended with the man screaming for ‘Tamerlane’ and hanging up.”
And then it hit me like a bullet train going full speed.
“Jesus,” I heard myself say. “That’s why… that’s why he went to Merriam.”
Calvin narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Merriam—I told you, she was the woman I worked with on the estate sale. Holy shit. Cal, the lot I won from the bid was for all of the antique books. He had to have known her connection with the sale and tried to pry from her who the store owners were that purchased all of the belongings.
“And the bird,” I continued, pointing at Ben. “That—where’s the book?Tamerlane. He’s asking aboutTamerlanethe book. She must not have told him which antique shops bid on the books, so he’s just been harassing all of us. And Beth’s bookshop—she put in a bid and won all of the paperbacks.”
