Just what exactly could make a gas station driving map sell for five million dollars?
“How on earth is this possible?” Nell whispered.
And in over half of the cases where the map came up, whether it was a sale, a collector trying to track down a possible copy, or a warning, so too did that same name—the Cartographers.
“Okay, there’s something really weird going on,” Felix said, sounding just as stunned as she felt. “I think you should show this to the police.”
“No!” Nell cried. “I can’t!”
“You definitely can,” he said. “The portfolio is a personal item. You can just say you didn’t realize anything from the library was inside at first. You won’t be in trouble.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she replied. She didn’t want to tell him what Irene had confided in her at the library—that the NYPL was in trouble and she might be able to help—he’d think she was pathetic. Still clinging to a dead dream. He’d moved on and seemed content at Haberson. He wouldn’t understand how stuck she was at Classic. How much she still missed the library. How much she missed real maps.
“It’s like closure, okay?” she said instead. “I just want some closure. Both about the whole Junk Box thing, and about Dr. Young. I just want to figure out why the map is so valuable—so I can know why he lied about its worth and ruined us for it all those years ago. As soon as I get that, I promise Swann and I will explain everything to the police. They can swab and dust this map, stare at it with even less understanding than we do, and then lock it up in their evidence vault, behind miles of red tape, to their heart’s content. I just want to know first.”
Felix fretted for a few moments. “Fine.” He sighed, relenting. He had always been the more cautious of the two of them, but she knew that he remembered how complicated her relationship with her father had been, even before he’d destroyed their lives. “What’s your next move?”
“Well, if the map really would fetch prices like these, I suppose my father would have needed help to find a buyer . . .” Nell looked down at the business card still in her hands.
“No way!” Felix exclaimed. “Ramona Wu is shady. Crooked. Can you imagine, if anyone saw you together? I wouldn’t be caught dead—”
But Nell shrugged. “I don’t have a reputation to lose anymore, remember?”
Felix fell silent, abashed. He glanced around the tiny, dingy apartment, as if realizing for the first time just how solidly on his feet he’d landed after the scandal—and just how far Nell had fallen.
“Well, just be careful,” he finally said.
“I will, Felix,” she replied. “I promise.”
They stood there awkwardly for a few moments, unsure of what else to say. Nell desperately wanted him to leave, so she could let out the metaphorical breath she’d been holding since he’d arrived, but she also suddenly . . . didn’t want him to go?
“It was good to see you again, I guess,” Felix added.
“You, too,” she replied. She went to open the door for him, before the moment could get more embarrassing. “Thank you for your help.”
“No problem,” he said after he’d stepped through.
See you later, she wanted to add as she slowly closed the door, but that wasn’t how it worked anymore. There had been too much damage done, and too much time lost. He would probably email Swann directly after he watched the tape if there was anything noteworthy, and that would be the end of it.
They’d likely never see each other again.
Nell pulled the door back open to see Felix at the stairs, about to descend.
“Dr. Young’s funeral is the day after tomorrow, if you wanted to come,” she blurted out.