Rare Book Dealer

Alvin waited until dark before breaking into the Collingswood mansion through the cellar. They were old money and, through his connections, he learned they had a priceless copy of Joe Del Priore's first book, Twilight People. Its value was based on the fact that its pages were made of onion skin and only four other copies existed, all owned by the Royal family.
Adding to the value was the fact that the author had vanished near the Great Barrier Reef while on vacation. His work, like all great artists, skyrocketed in value after his assumed death.
Using his flashlight, Alvin went room to room, sniffing, as the husband and wife, in their seventies, slept. Finally, he discovered a small linen closet. Onion smell almost overcame him. He pried open the door and there it was--pristine, the Holy Grail of publishing gems.
Dollar signs exploded inside his head. He grabbed the treasure and went out the way he came in, triggering no alarms. Only feet from his car and escape, he saw a shadow become a man pointing a gun at his chest. Chauncey, his rival rare book dealer, glared at him from under his fedora.
Cough it up, Alvin, he sneered. You've done my dirty work for me.
Alvin pleaded for compromise, but the demon would have none of it. He meekly handed over the tome, knowing his fate was sealed and he'd be found in a dumpster. But when Chauncey grasped the book, for a moment he took his eyes off his nemesis and Alvin reached down and grabbed the knife he hid in his ankle holder, then whipped it into Chauncey's shoulder from a kneeling position. The other, gasped and fell. They grappled in the street. Somehow, the book's binding broke and its pages scattered in the wind.
Both men looked up and sobbed. Maybe it was the deep sense of loss. Or maybe it was the pungent scent of really rancid onion skin.