The Diviners
Page 49
“Your… your uncle?” Sam smiled in surprise. “You don’t say! Now, isn’t that a coincidence.”
“Isn’t what a coincidence?” Uncle Will said, stepping into the room. He wore his hat and carried his briefcase. An umbrella hung from his left arm even though it was a sunny day.
Sam marched forward and shook Will’s hand with gusto. “How do you do, sir? Sam Lloyd. I have something I believe belongs to you.”
“Indeed?”
“Well, sir, I’m afraid it’s a story that won’t make me look like too swell of a fella. See, I was at the pawnbroker’s last night, hoping to get a few rubes for my watch—times are a bit hard. And I hear this fella saying he’s got some merchandise to sell. Rare treasures from the Museum of the Creepy Crawlies.” Sam gave an apologetic shrug. “That’s just what they call it, Professor.”
“Go on,” Uncle Will said. If he was put out, he didn’t show it.
Sam opened his bag and retrieved Cornelius Rathbone’s Masonic dagger. Will held it up to the light and peered at it. “That’s ours, all right.”
“I offered the fella my last twenty bucks for it, and he took it, seeing as the pawnbroker wasn’t too keen on taking it for more than ten. I didn’t know if there might be a reward for its safe return.” Sam paused, glancing quickly up at Will, then back down at his hands. “I just thought, well, it’s one thing to take what you need so’s you can eat, or to pinch from a bootlegger. It’s another thing to steal treasures from a museum. Why, that’s just bad form.”
Evie stared, her mouth hanging slightly open. Sam winked and said, “Hey, sister, careful there—wouldn’t want your tongue to fall out.”
Evie glared. “If my tongue goes missing I’ll know whose pockets to check first! Of all the cockeyed stories! Unc, you need to give him the bum’s rush. He’s a cheat, a liar, a thief, a liar—”
“You said that already,” Sam noted.
“Well, I’m saying it again! This is the son of a bitch who stole my twenty dollars in Penn Station!”
“Evangeline, not everyone is accustomed to your gangland charm,” Uncle Will chided after a pause. “Is that true, young man?”
“So’s your old man,” Evie spat out.
Sam adopted a pained expression. “I didn’t want to say this and get the young lady in trouble, but she stole my coat.”
“And you’re not getting it back until I have my twenty dollars.”
Jericho came to stand beside Evie, looming over Sam.
“Hi there, big fella. You her brother?” Sam asked.
“No.”
Sam glanced from Jericho to Evie. “You married?”
“No!” Evie and Jericho said, but not before Sam noted the blush creeping into Jericho’s cheeks.
“Listen, sister, I don’t know what kind of situation you’ve got going on here. I’m not the judging type. I’m glad to see you’re safe and sound here with your uncle and your”—he nodded to Jericho—“large friend. I was only trying to do a good deed, but I see that no good deed goes unpunished. So if you’ll just hand over my coat, we’ll call it even and I’ll beat it. I won’t even charge you with stealing my property.”
Evie sputtered for a second, then took off after Sam, chasing him around the long table, knocking over stacks of books as she did. “I’m going to kill him. Who wants to watch?”
Jericho raised his hand.
Will stepped into Evie’s path, stopping her. “Pardon me, but I’m rather confused, and I am also”—Will checked his watch again—“six and a half minutes late for my lecture. I don’t mind thieves, but I do abhor liars and people who keep me from conducting my affairs in an efficient manner. Now. Did you, in fact, steal her twenty dollars? Answer carefully, young man.”
For the first time, Sam appeared nervous, raking a hand through his hair and inching just a bit closer to the door. “Well, sir, a great man once said, ‘Subjectivity is truth; truth is subjectivity.’ ”
“Kierkegaard,” Will said, surprised. His tone softened. “Still. Facts are facts.”
Sam looked down at his shoes. “I’m sorry. I was planning on paying her back when I saw that fella at the pawnbroker’s and gave him my last dime to get that knife back. I thought maybe it could be a peace offering.”