In the Night Room Read Online Free Page B

which the man had left him.
    Again, he saw April before him, cupping her hands and shaping her mouth to shout . . .
    Whistle to us?
That could not be right.
    Tim let his fork clatter to his plate, signaled the waiter for the check, and returned his pen to his pocket. Rain streamed down the windows of the diner, and when the door swung open, a few drops spattered onto the tiles. Tim sighed. A wet hand swept the sodden hood of a sweatshirt off his admirer’s glowing face. The fan held up a yellow bag bearing the likeness of Charles Dickens.
    “Did you time me?”
    Tim looked at his watch. “You were gone at least twenty minutes.”
    “No, six, at the outside. I would have been here earlier, but the rain slowed me down.”
    The fan pulled the books one by one from the shiny bag and stacked them about an inch north of Tim’s plate. They were copies of
lost boy lost girl,
as yet unpublished. He had received his box of author’s copies only a short while before. “These babies stayed dry, anyhow.” The fan wiped his face and pushed the moisture back into his thick black hair. “Must be a great feeling to sign a book you wrote, huh? Like ‘This is my baby, get a good look, ’cuz I’m one proud papa,’ right?”
    Tim wanted to get rid of this character as soon as possible. “Where did you get these books?”
    The man slid the books nearer to Tim. “Why? I bought them, didn’t I?”
    Water dripped from his sleeves, and drops landed on the
Times
crossword puzzle. In a small number of squares, the ink melted into the paper.
    “Okay,” he said, and sat down in the chair opposite Tim. “Sign the first one to Jasper Kohle, that’s Jasper the normal way, and Kohle is K-O-H-L-E. My full name is Jasper Dan Kohle, but I only use my middle name on checks and my driver’s license, ha ha. Inscribe it however you like. Have fun. Use your imagination. You could say, ‘To Jasper Kohle, I yam what I yam.’ ”
    The only thing worse than someone ordering you to be inventive when you signed their book was someone telling you exactly what to write. This fan had managed to do both. Tim looked at Jasper Kohle, for the first time actually taking him in, and saw someone whose cheerfulness was laid on like paint. His eyes had no light, and his smile displayed too many teeth, all of them yellow. He was ten to fifteen years older than he had first appeared.
    “You didn’t go to your apartment,” Tim said. “You ran all the way to the bookstore, and then you ran back. I don’t understand it, but that’s what you did. But the real problem is this book hasn’t actually been published yet, and it’s not supposed to be on sale. The copies aren’t even supposed to have shipped to the bookstores.”
    “Come on,” Kohle said. “You must have some kind of problem with trust.”
    “If I looked inside that bag, I bet I’d find a receipt with today’s date on it.”
    Kohle glowered at him. “Let me ask you a question, Tim. Are you this pricky to all your fans?”
    “No, I’m just interested in your explanation.”
    “I wanted more.”
    “More copies of the same book?”
    “I have four at home. But since you’re here, I thought I should get three more, so I’d have three signed, plus four backup copies. One of ’em I’ve read, but that’s all, just one.” He nudged the books still closer to Tim. “Don’t inscribe the second two, just flat sign them and put down the date. On the title page, please.”
    “You wanted seven copies of
lost boy lost girl
?”
    Kohle showed his yellow teeth again. “If you want to know the truth, I’d like ten, but I’m not a fucking millionaire, am I?”
    “Why would you want ten copies?”
    “I collect books!”
    “I guess you do,” Tim said. He picked up his pen, opened the topmost book to the title page, and thought for a second before writing:
    To Jasper Kohle
a collector’s collector
All Best,
Tim Underhill
    After adding the date beneath this inscription, he handed the book, still