Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

amusing, coming from such a short guy. He wouldn't have looked out of place in a Napoleonic uniform.
    He glided up to the entrance where we stood. “May I help you?”
    I stuck out my hand just to see what he'd do. He gave me the fingertip handshake. Yuck . “I'm Dr. Jeremy Brodie, from UCLA Libraries. I'm looking for illuminated manuscripts.”
    “Ah.” His interest was piqued. “Is the university looking for items for its collection?”
    “If an item would be of enough value to the collections, it might be possible. Right now we're just trying to get a sense of what's available.”
    “I see. Come in, please. I am Quentin, and this is my associate, Paulo.”
    Associate, my ass . Paulo looked barely legal. He was dark haired, long lashed, and wearing a touch of mascara. He wore a skin-tight, midriff-length white t-shirt and equally skin-tight pale denim jeans. He gave me a fingertip wave from across the counter and licked his lips suggestively.
    Oh brother.
    Brashier missed the little gestures. I thought that was probably a good thing. He stepped behind the counter and consulted a laptop computer that was sitting on it. “Let me see what we have available.” He typed in a search term, then looked at me. “Is there a particular era in which you are interested?”
    “Not in particular. But the older, the better. Of course.”
    He chuckled a little. “Of course.” He hit enter, and we waited for a second while the search ran. Paulo had come up to where we were standing. He was almost leaning on Brashier, but was making eyes at me. I frowned at him.
    “Ah. Here we are. We have several pieces that may interest you.”
    I pulled out a notebook and pen.
    “Here is a fifteenth century manuscript from Milan. Originally from the Borghese collection. And here is a fourteenth century piece from a monastery in the Rhine Valley. Very nice. And - aha! - here is a twelfth century item, from Canterbury.”
    I was making notes. “Those all sound interesting. But...don't you have anything older?”
    He glanced at me, then his gaze skittered away nervously. “Older?”
    “Yes. Pre-tenth century, in particular.”
    “Ah, well, let me take another look...” Quentin looked a bit flushed. Paulo was leaning over his shoulder and Quentin shook him off. Paulo made a pouty face and then made a flirty face at me. Good God.
    Quentin straightened up from the laptop. “I don't see anything in our inventory previous to the tenth century.” But he wouldn't look at me directly.
    “Oh, that's too bad. One of our donors heard a rumor that there was a page from a ninth century manuscript available, but so far we haven't found anyone who knows about it.”
    Eckhoff chimed in. “My employer – the donor – would be very interested in buying the piece for the university, if it could be found and authenticated. But so far we're not having any luck.”
    Quentin looked even more nervous. “Maybe it was just a rumor.”
    “Maybe. But my employer said her source was reliable.”
    I shrugged. “Oh well. We have a few more dealers to visit.” I closed my notebook and slipped it back into my jacket.
    Quentin had developed a few beads of sweat across his upper lip. “If this item did exist, theoretically speaking, how much would your employer be willing to spend?”
    Eckhoff said, “We didn’t discuss a price range. It would depend on the item.”
    I wanted to make sure Brashier stayed interested. “I do know that she's paid top dollar for several things the university has in its collection.” I pulled out the new business card with the special cell phone number on it. “If you do hear anything, even if it is just a rumor, would you let me know? Our donor is very eager to find this item, if it does exist.”
    Quentin took my card. His hand was shaking a little. “I certainly will, Dr. Brodie. I certainly will.”
    “I'd appreciate that. Thank you for your time.”
    We left the shop and walked down the block to Eckhoff’s car, and got in. I asked, “Success, you think?”
    “I think so. He definitely knows something. I bet you’ll be hearing from him soon.” Eckhoff grinned. “Good work. We may have to deputize you.”

    The following Saturday was moving day for Kevin and Abby. Pete and I headed over to the apartment early. We wanted to get the big stuff and boxes moved quickly, so they could spend the rest of the day unloading boxes and getting the place arranged.
    We started with the bigger furniture as Abby was tossing