Murder Under Cover (34 page)

“It’s very rare,” Ian said in a rush. “First edition. Look at the interior pages. They’re fantastic. I just need you to fashion a new cover and do some clean up, and we’ll have a masterpiece to display in the children’s gallery.”

I ran my finger over the dried ink and reread the sentimental inscription. The scrawled penmanship had a beauty all its own.

“Earth to Brooklyn,” he said. “What’s going on? Can you do the work or not?”

I shook myself out of my melancholy and glanced up at Ian. “I’m not sure I can.”

“What do you mean, you’re not sure? You could do this restoration in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah, I can do the work.” I turned the book over to see if the damage extended to the back joint, but it was still smooth and unfrayed. “But I don’t think I can do the work.”

He frowned, pushed away from the table, and stood over me. “Okay, you’re speaking in riddles. What’s wrong with the damn book?”

I met his gaze directly. “I think it was stolen.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I bought it fair and square from Joseph Taylor.”

“I’m sure you did,” I said through clenched teeth. “And I’d like to find out who sold it to him in the first place because they’re not the rightful owner.”

Frustrated, Ian scratched his head, causing his hair to spike wildly. “What aren’t you telling me, Brooklyn? How do you know this book was stolen? Who did it belong to?”

Tears threatened, but I brushed them away with a fierce swipe of my hand. “Once upon a time, this book was mine.”