Hoarded to Death (A Jamie Brodie Mystery) by Meg Perry Read Free Book Online

impossible to sell on the open market.” I looked at the detectives. “You’d be talking about a private collector. It would be like an art theft. LAPD has an art theft detail, right?”
    “Yeah, we do.” Belardo frowned. “We don’t usually cross paths with them, but in this case it might be a good idea. Maybe one of your UCLA guys is a contact for them, and we can start there.” He sighed. “Suppose it is something famous, one of these illuminated manuscripts. It would have to be from Europe, right? Any idea how your sister-in-law would have come across it?”
    “I doubt that she knew she had it. If she had, I think she might have sold it herself, as bad as she’s hurting for money. Usually, the way these things happen, an old manuscript ends up in a box in someone’s attic, and the box gets passed down from generation to generation…” It hit me what I had just said. “Jennifer inherited a bunch of old books from her teacher’s aide that died five years ago. Jennifer said the books were in boxes in the guest room. We were going to go through them today to see if there was anything valuable in them.”
    “Huh.” Eckhoff looked intrigued. “There were several boxes open in that room. You guys didn’t get to any of the boxes yesterday?”
    “No. When we finished, the boxes were still hidden under a pile of clothing.”
    Pete chimed in. “How would Wally have known what that was? And where to look for it?”
    Eckhoff shrugged. “No idea. Junk men get to be experts, sometimes, though, in what’s valuable and what’s not.”
    Belardo stood. “Well, we’ll be taking a close look at the dead guy’s background. If he turns out to have a degree in art history or something, that’ll give us an idea.” Pete and I shook hands with Eckhoff; Belardo didn’t offer. Eckhoff said, “Thanks for all your help. We’ll talk to Art Theft first, then go to whatever experts they send us to. Probably end up at UCLA.”
    I ventured, “If you are at UCLA, would you mind stopping by my office and letting me know what’s going on with the investigation? I’m really curious as to whether this is the real thing or not.”
    “Sure, no problem.” The detectives said their goodbyes and left. I turned to Pete. “Feel like a ride to campus?”
    “To do what?”
    I grinned. “What else? A little research.”
    Val needed to head for home; the following day was a school day for my nephews. We saw her off, then drove to UCLA. The special collections area was closed on Sundays, but no section of the library was ever closed to its librarians. We walked in the front door of the library, and I stopped to say hello to Connie Bright, who was working at circulation. “Hey, Connie, how’s it going?”
    “Good. It’s been busy today. What are you doing here?” She looked at Pete with interest.
    “This is my boyfriend, Pete Ferguson. Pete, Connie Bright. We’re going down to Special Collections for a few minutes.”
    “Okay. Let me know when you come back up. Nice to meet you, Pete."
    We waved and went downstairs. At the door of Special Collections, I swiped my BruinCard and opened the door. I logged into the computer, and the steel gate that led into the collections area clicked open. I had looked up the call number of the Book of Kells from home; I led Pete to the Z section and we found the book.
    “This is beautiful. But why is a facsimile in special collections?”
    “There weren’t many made, only around 1500 or so. And the process by which they made them allowed them to be very close copies, and it was expensive. Each of these cost several thousand dollars. They were made so that scholars could study the book without having to access the original. So it’s down here to limit access. It’s in special collections because it’s special.”
    “Ha. Funny. Okay, so are the missing pages in here?”
    “Well, no, because this was made from the original as it currently exists, and no one knows exactly what the missing