Pirate Read Free Page A

build. “I didn’t hear you complaining when they brought out the moo shu pork.”
    â€œWhere did we go wrong?”
    â€œOrdering the Mongolian beef. Definitely a mistake.”
    â€œOn the map, Remi.”
    She zoomed in, reading the streets. “Perhaps the shortcut through Chinatown wasn’t so short.”
    â€œMaybe if you’d at least tell me where we’re going, I could help?”
    â€œIt’s the only part of this trip,” Remi said, “that’s my surprise for you. You haven’t even shared what you have planned.”
    â€œFor a reason.” Sam put on his hat, and Remi linked her arm through his while they walked. He’d arranged this trip because their last adventure to the Solomon Islands had not been the hoped-for quiet vacation they’d planned. “I promise you nothing but rest, relaxation, and a week of no one trying to kill us.”
    â€œA whole week of downtime,” she said, sidling closer to him as a cloud drifted over the sun, taking with it all the warmth of the early-September afternoon. “Have we had anything like that in a while?”
    â€œNot that I can remember.”
    â€œThere it is,” she said, spying the bookstore. The flaking gold-leafed lettering in the window read
Pickering’s
Used & Rare Books
. “Just to show how very much I appreciate you traipsing all this way with me, I won’t make you come in.” Remi was being facetious. Sam’s late father, a NASA engineer, had collected rare books, and Sam, also an engineer, had inherited that same passion.
    He eyed the bookstore, then his wife. “What sort of husband would I be if something happened to you in there?”
    â€œDangerous things, books.”
    â€œLook what they did to your brain.”
    The pair crossed the street to the bookstore. A Siamese cat, resting on a stack of volumes in the window, looked up in disdain when a bell tinkled as Sam opened the door for Remi. The placesmelled of musk and old paper, and Remi scanned the shelves, at first seeing nothing but used hardcovers and current paperbacks. She hid her disappointment from Sam, hoping they hadn’t made the trip for nothing.
    A gray-haired man, wearing gold spectacles, wandered in from the back, wiping his hands on a dusty cloth. He saw them and smiled. “May I help you find something?”
    Sam’s phone rang. He took it from his pocket, telling Remi, “I’ll take it outside.”
    â€œPerfect, since this was meant to be a surprise.”
    He stepped out, and Remi waited until the door closed firmly behind him before turning to the proprietor. “Mr. Pickering?”
    He nodded.
    â€œI was told you had a copy of
The History of Pyrates and Privateers
.”
    His smile faltered for the barest of instances. “Of course. Right over here.”
    Pickering led her to a shelf where several identical volumes of
Pyrates and Privateers
sat. And while they were clearly reproductions, their faux gold-tooled leather binding gave them the appearance of something that might be found in a library centuries before.
    He slid a copy from the shelf, used his cloth to wipe the dust from the top of it, then handed it to her. “How did you know we carried this particular volume?”
    She decided to keep it vague—not wanting there to be any hurt feelings now that she knew the book was merely a reproduction. “A woman I work with knew of my husband’s interest inlost artifacts and rare books.” She opened the cover, admiring the detail that gave it an antiqued appearance. “It’s a beautiful copy . . . Just not what I was hoping for.”
    He pushed his spectacles up onto the bridge of his nose. “It’s popular with interior designers. Less emphasis on lost artifacts and more on decorating a coffee table. I do, on occasion, run across old volumes of historical significance. Perhaps your friend meant the Charles Johnson