The Case Has Altered by Martha Grimes Read Free Book Online

concerned.”
    They spent some moments speaking of the case that had taken Jury to New Mexico. They talked until the subject was fairly well exhausted. Melrose had taken out his cigarette case and offered one to Jury, who refused. “Thanks, but if you remember, I quit.”
    â€œThat’s right. I didn’t expect it would last. Good for you.”
    â€œIt’s only been eighteen and a third days, but who’s counting?”
    â€œI doubt I could do it for eighteen minutes. I’d sooner give this up”—and he raised his whiskey glass—“than cigarettes.”
    Jury laughed. “You need a confederate; someone who’s trying to stay stopped too. Whenever I think I can’t stand it one bloody minute longer, I ring up Des.”
    â€œWho’s Des?”
    â€œYoung lady at Heathrow. She works at one of the cigarette and tobacco kiosks. Hell of an environment if you’re trying to stop smoking. We got in a conversation about it, and I told her I’d stay stopped at least as long as she did. It was a pact, I guess you’d call it. Like the ones you made when you were a kid, you know, never to tell on the other one, that sort of thing.”
    â€œOh, nobody trusted me, none of my little friends.”
    Jury laughed. “No wonder.”
    â€œI always had to put up cash. It was a damned racket with them.” They both laughed, and Melrose looked at the coal end of his cigarette. “But it’s a good idea, that. A pact. Who could I make one with? Marshall Trueblood? Anyway, I can’t imagine Trueblood giving up those candy-cane Sobranies.”
    â€œIt’s part of his rap.”
    â€œRap?”
    â€œYou know, his game. His persona.”
    â€œFor Trueblood the rap’s all there is. Now, what is it you want me to do? What dire plot? What exquisite scheme have you in mind?”
    Jury slid down in his favorite soft leather chair, balanced his drink on his knee, and studied the ceiling. “Remember the Lake District? The Holdsworths?”
    â€œOh, ha! I’m not going back there!”
    â€œDon’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it because I know you did.”
    Melrose hemmed and hawed, vastly moderating his enjoyment of it. “If you want me to be a librarian again, forget it.”
    â€œNo, nothing like that.”
    â€œThank the lord.”
    â€œI want you to be an appraiser.”
    Melrose frowned over the rim of his glass. “A what?”
    â€œYou know. Some bloke who goes round telling people what their old stuff is worth.” Jury finished off his drink and held out his glass. “You’re the host.”
    â€œI don’t know what anybody’s old stuff is worth.” Melrose took their glasses to the sideboard where Ruthven had set the decanter. He pouredtwo fingers of whiskey into Jury’s glass, held it out for him. “I don’t even know what my old stuff is worth.” He splashed whiskey into his own glass, returned to his chair.
    â€œI just want you to be an antiques appraiser. Hell, you can cardshark your way through this assignment. You did with the librarian act.”
    â€œFor God’s sake, that was books. Books! Of course I know something about books. I know sod-all about antiques. Send Trueblood.”
    Jury ignored that. “I need someone inside the house. Fengate. It’s near Spalding.”
    â€œNear Spalding is it? Oh well, that makes all the difference! Where in hell’s Spalding?”
    â€œSouth Lincolnshire. Little Holland.”
    â€œLittle who? Anyway, these people with their unvalued antiques would hardly want a strange chap actually staying with them.” Melrose took a hearty swig of his drink, having put paid to Jury’s idea. “A boarder. My, doesn’t that sound a treat of a role? I’ll shuffle into breakfast every morning in my out-at-elbow brown cardigan and hairy jacket.” Melrose reflected for a moment.