"I should know by now not to let him get anywhere near a bookstore," Shadow muttered. There was an aging strip mall beside the convenience store where he'd stopped for gas, and Corso had been lured across the parking lot by "Brenda's Used Books". The two of them were on their way to meet Skyflower for the ritual; Jinx remained in Cairo; the allure of worshipping at the paws of Bast hadn't worn off yet.

He followed Corso over to the bookstore after he'd finished filling the tank, relieved to see mostly worn paperbacks filling the shelves, not the kind of distinctive volumes Baltimore had boasted. They didn't have any books on magic, but he found several 50's era pulps, macho detective stories with airbrushed dames on their covers. He grabbed a handful, thinking some mindless reading matter might be a welcome distraction if he had to wait awhile for Corso and Skyflower.

Brenda--at least he presumed she was the freckle-faced blonde behind the register--was chatting with another customer, something about late nights playing on the computer. Chalk up another one for techno boy, thought Shadow. Unfortunately, that was one god who wasn't suffering any lack of popularity. His companion was perusing a row of books--the only row of books--in what was optimistically called the "New Age" section.

"Anything?" Shadow asked. Corso held up his selection. "Crop circles? You're kidding, right?"

"Hey, at least I'm throwing a little business her way," the other man hissed back. "Now I know where airport books go to die."

Huh? Shadow was mystified by that last comment, but his companion was headed toward the front counter as Brenda's talkative friend departed with an armful of romance novels.

As Corso took the receipt for his purchase, Shadow handed over his finds. "That'll be four dollars and sixty-eight cents," the girl told him with a bright smile.

Corso reached out and intercepted the girl's hand. "You can't sell him those books at that price!"

"Look, mister, I know the cover price is only 35 cents, but my minimum price is a dollar a book."

"What I'm saying is, they're worth a lot more than that."

"Those old things?" she asked in disbelief. The brittle paperbacks were at least thirty years older than she was. "I've got two cartons of them I haven't even unpacked!"

The book dealer nodded solemnly. "Shadow, I'm surprised at you, taking advantage of the poor girl that way."

"What?!" What a pair of brass ones this guy had!

"Books like those are big in the nostalgia market," Corso told the young woman. "You can get a lot more than four dollars for any one of them, if you know who to go to."

"Not around here, I can't."

"Did I hear you say you have a computer?"

"Uh-huh." She led them around a partition to a beige dinosaur that looked ancient even to Shadow. "Help yourself, as long as you don't go running to any porn sites."

"Trust me." Shadow watched bemused as Corso began tapping away at the keyboard. Corso'd never impressed him as an e-geek, but he obviously knew what he was doing. "Okay, look." The dealer held up one of Shadow's picks and pointed at the screen. "This is how much a copy of this title went for recently on eBay."

Brenda squeaked, eyes wide, and Shadow's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding!" he blurted.

Corso looked smug. "I'll bookmark this for you. I know a few of the dealers who specialize in this genre--" A website popped up. "What have we here? Feldman's got that title....I guarantee, if he's charging that much retail, he'd pay at least 40 of that, cash." He saved it for her. "Let's see what Maguire's got...."

Brenda took notes furiously for the next twenty minutes as Corso was charming and informative about the market for old pulps. Shadow kept a grip on his temper with an effort as Corso glanced reproachfully at him, tsk-tsking from time to time.

"I'll be waiting in the car," he said finally, and stalked out empty-handed.

It was another fifteen minutes before Corso exited the bookstore, sliding his clip-on sunglasses into place. Shadow watched him call something back over his shoulder to Brenda. He was in a rare good mood as he climbed into the car.

"Think you're pretty funny, don't you?" his driver said with a scowl.

Corso grinned. "The look on your face!"

"Cut the crap. You didn't do all that as a favor to that kid. That was a great, big 'Fuck you, Shadow'."

Corso's grin faded and he shook his head. "No," he said quietly.

"No, what? No, that wasn't a 'fuck you'? 'Cause I read it differently."

"That kid, as you call her, is as innocent as a baby chick. She's just bumbling along with her little hole-in-the-wall bookstore in her one-horse town--it's one thing when it's a grown woman who's trying to pretend she's an expert in the big city, but this kid? Jesus, Shadow--even I'm not that much of an asshole."

"And you wanted to yank my chain."

"Yeah, a little," admitted Corso, with a ghost of his earlier grin. He pulled a brown paper bag from a pocket of his disreputable coat. "Merry Christmas."

"What the hell?"

"The sales slip is in the bag," added Corso, "so you know I didn't pull any fast ones."

Shadow looked at the books he'd put back. Looked at the receipt, with a total that broke the three-figure mark. He looked over at Corso, who gazed levelly back at him. "Is she really going to be able to sell the rest of them for this kind of money, or were you just raising her hopes?"

"She should, if she listens to what I told her. Am I forgiven?" He extended a hand, waiting.

Shadow took Corso's outstretched hand and pumped it. "You're okay. Thanks." He glanced at the astounding total at the bottom of the sales slip again. "A little crazy, maybe...." Securing the books, he put the car into gear.

"Something else," Corso said, a couple miles down the road. "while I was in there, she got a call."

"Uh-huh."

"I told you about Bernie Orenstein, right?"

Shadow reviewed the story he'd heard so many times. "That's your friend in New York, the one they hanged in his store?"

"Yeah." Corso tapped down the ends his cigarette before lighting it. "While Brenda was on the phone, I pulled up the website for Bernie's Rare Books."

"And?"

"There was a notice on there, front and center, for anyone knowing the whereabouts of Dean Corso to call Stewart Rodenbaugh, Esquire."

"A lawyer?"

"Not just a lawyer. He's Bernie's cousin."

"What am I missing here?"

Corso sighed. "I knew Bernie since college. He was being groomed by his uncle, the original Bernie, to take over the family business. They helped me get a good price on those books from the trunk."

"What about this lawyer guy?"

"Bernie hooked us up a long time ago. I've used Stew whenever I've had legal issues." He blew a trail of smoke out of the window. "And before you say it, no, nothing major. A landlord/tenant dispute, once in a while a hassle with customs over a book. He's good at what he does."

"What does he want you for?"

"That's what I'm afraid to find out. I could be the prime suspect in his cousin's murder. I don't know. I left for Europe that night...."

"You could call him. We're gonna have some time on our hands this afternoon."

"No." Corso stubbed the butt out. "If that's what it is, I'll settle it when this mess is over. I don't want to call him now. All that would accomplish is to give them somewhere to start looking if I am a suspect."

"Okay."

"If this doesn't work," Corso spoke hesitantly, "if I end up dead--Shadow, call Stewart for me, please? Let him know how sorry I am about Bernie."

"You're not gonna wind up dead," Shadow said emphatically. "At least not any time soon."

"If she shows up...."

"If she shows up, she's gonna have to go through me to get to you." Shadow realized he meant it. With his connections, being dead wouldn't have the same consequences for him as it would for Corso. "I'd be in no condition to tell anybody anything, Dean. Maybe you should write the guy a letter. We could be five states away by the time he gets it."

"That's a good idea." The other man was looking at him, a questioning expression on his face.

"What?"

"You know, in all this time, you've never called me by my given name before."

A/N: If you don't catch the reference to "airport books", my short "Reminiscence" covers Corso's philosophy on the subject.

If you're wondering why my posts have slowed down lately, it's because I'm aiming to post certain events on Halloween, for reasons I'll explain later. Hope everyone's enjoying it...even those of you who aren't reviewing--tsk-tsk!