The Case of the One-Penny Orange: A Masao Masuto Mystery (Book Two) by Howard Fast Page A

suppose we sit down in my office.” He indicated the way, and Masuto followed him into an imposing, oak-paneled room. There were two large oil portraits on the walls, which Masuto imagined depicted Holmbey I and Holmbey II.
    â€œNow …?”
    â€œSergeant Masuto.”
    â€œSergeant Masuto. What can I do for you? And you, on the other hand — you would not mind showing me your credentials?”
    Masuto opened his wallet and showed his badge.
    â€œAh! But you are a Beverly Hills policeman. Aren’t you rather far off base?”
    â€œNo, sir. In Los Angeles County, any police detective working on a case has reciprocal rights — even to the extent of making an arrest.”
    â€œBut you are not here to make an arrest. At least, I hope not. Of course — it’s the Ivan Gaycheck business. I read about it in this morning’s Times .”
    â€œMore or less.”
    â€œAm I a suspect?”
    â€œNo, indeed.”
    â€œWhy not? I disliked the man intensely. He’s a dealer, I am a dealer. So why not?”
    Masuto spread his hands disarmingly and smiled. “This woman — I believe you called her Agatha — you said her mission is to protect you. From what?”
    â€œMy dear Sergeant Masuto. I am sure the world of postage stamps is alien to you, but it is very much a world, and in that world I am considered — I say this without boasting — one of the half-dozen leading authorities. Holmbey’s is the third largest dealer in the United States, the largest west of the Mississippi, so you will understand that I am sought out by an endless flow of collectors and dealers, for purchase, for sale, for authentication, for identification. My provenance is usually accepted by any dealer or collector. If I were not protected, my life would be a nightmare.”
    â€œSo. You are very young for all that,” Masuto said with respect.
    â€œI grew up with stamps. Quite natural for a Holmbey.”
    â€œWell, I am grateful for the time you are granting me.”
    â€œNot at all. I’m fascinated. Crime and stamps rarely mix. Ask and I will answer to the best of my ability.”
    â€œThank you. There is a stamp called the One-Penny 1848 Mauritius. How much is it worth?”
    â€œThe One-Penny 1848 Orange, imperforate …”
    â€œImperforate?”
    â€œThe little holes, you know, perforations. Imperforate simply means cut with a scissors or a cutting machine. No perforations.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œCanceled, five thousand dollars. Uncanceled, about twice that.”
    Masuto shook his head. “No. Surely you are mistaken.”
    â€œI am never mistaken — in stamps.” Holmbey smiled.
    â€œBut I was told …”
    â€œBy an expert? How much?”
    â€œOne hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
    â€œGood heavens! Who was the expert — if you don’t mind telling me his name?”
    â€œMr. Odi Ishido.”
    â€œIshido? I know Ishido. Lovely gentleman, quite a competent amateur collector. Rather good on Japanese stamps, but he doesn’t know beans about the British colonies. You know, there is a Mauritius stamp that is the most valuable in existence. Not the Post-Paid One-Penny 1848, but the One-Penny Post-Office 1847. I suppose that’s what Ishido had in mind.”
    â€œThen there is a One-Penny Mauritian stamp of great value?”
    â€œOh, yes, indeed. There certainly is. The One-Penny Orange of 1847 is the most valuable postage stamp in the world.”
    â€œBut what gives a tiny bit of paper such value?” Masuto asked.
    â€œAh! Good question. First of all, it’s the collector who gives it such value. If he did not desire it with demonic ferocity, well then, what would its value be? Nothing. And why does he value it? Mainly because of its rarity. When he has it, he has something that no one else or almost no one else in the world has. Why does one pay seventy thousand