The Lies That Bind

I had a sudden memory of another tight space I’d hidden in recently. I’d been shocked to learn Derek was hiding in there, as well. Those were some good times.

One of the men must’ve tried to pick up the fallen bookcase because I heard the screech of heavy wood against wood.

Then one of them began to scream.

“Oh, my God!” Then more screams.

“What?” his partner said. “Shut up! Whoa, holy shit, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Two sets of footsteps scrambled and someone fell; then both of them tore out of the room, fleeing down the hall.

There was silence. I realized I was holding my breath, so tense I thought I might crack in two.

Derek quietly unlocked the door, then pushed back against me until he could squeeze through the doorway and out of the oppressively small room.

I followed him, gasping for breath.

He took hold of the heavy bookcase and lifted it.

I shrieked; I couldn’t help myself. I recognized the dead man buried under hundreds of books and the heavy shelf.

It was the Asian man I’d seen storming out of Layla’s office the first night of class.

“Mr. Soo, I presume,” Derek said.

It had to be Mr. Soo. In his hand, he was clutching the Oliver Twist I’d restored so lovingly.

In the middle of his forehead was a bullet hole.

Chapter 17

“Another dead body?” I cried, having officially reached the end of my rope. “What the hell is going on with me? Was I a serial killer in a past life? Why do I keep finding dead people?”

Enough already.

“I agree it’s all become a bit chary,” Derek confessed as he struggled to keep the bookcase suspended.

“Chary? I hope that’s another word for totally unfair and highly a

“Something like that,” he said, grimacing as he shifted to lower the bookcase.

“Hey, wait, I want my book,” I said, pointing to the Oliver Twist in the dead man’s hand. I began to push books out of my path.

“Sorry, love,” he said, and shoved the bookcase back far enough that it no longer crushed the unfortunate Mr. Soo when it crashed to the ground.

“But, Derek, it’s worth—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, grabbing my arm and heading for the door. “We’re leaving now.”

I looked over my shoulder in dismay. “It would only take a second to—”

“We don’t have a second, love.” He looked both ways down the hall, then took off ru

“Oh, good point.” I’d already determined that the book was well away from that sliver of blood seeping from—well, never mind, I thought, shivering at the picture of Mr. Soo lying dead in that room. It bothered me to leave the Oliver Twist, but I knew it would end up as evidence and eventually be returned to Naomi, who might still sell it to me.

Derek was more important right now. We had to get him away from there.

We raced down the stairs as police sirens pierced the air, growing louder and louder. Sure enough, they came to an abrupt stop on the side street bordering Mr. Soo’s building.

On the ground floor, we walked briskly toward the back of the building and exited onto the narrow one-way street that ran parallel to Grant. A walkway between office buildings and past several hole-in-the-wall eateries took us to the next street over, which was Kearny. From there, we strolled back to Union Square, window-shopping on the way.

Despite acting as a dividing line between the fashionable shops of Union Square and the monolithic skyscrapers of the Financial District, Kearny Street itself was slightly seedy with small discount shops, funky food joints, check-cashing services, and the occasional bar.

But it was a beautiful day in the city, with brilliant blue skies and a lovely breeze drifting through the canyons of high-rises on our left. We seemed a million miles away from the tawdry murder scene in Chinatown, and as we turned up Post Street, it felt as though we had all the time in the world.

“I’m sorry you had to leave your book back there,” Derek said as we walked past the Brooks Brothers window, which featured a men’s tan suit next to a pale pink crisp cotton dress. The dress was asexual and impossibly conservative, with short sleeves, a tucked bib front and a bow tie at the neck. Seriously, that was a bib. Who in the world would wear it? I had to force myself to look away.

“No, you were right,” I said finally. “We had to get out of there before the police showed up. But they’ll find the book and use it as evidence to nail these guys.”

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “Yes, they will.”

“I’m sorry I went a little crazy,” I said, remembering my tantrum as we waited for the signal to change at Post and Grant. “I saw that man lying there and my brain exploded. One too many dead bodies, I guess.”

“I’m surprised you’ve held on this long,” he said, resting his cheek on my hand. “I know it’s been traumatic for you.”

“It’s getting more and more weird,” I admitted. “But that’s still no excuse to go off like I did.”

“Darling, you’re a strong woman, but you mustn’t be so hard on yourself.” He wrapped his arm around me and we crossed the street.

A sea of emotion swirled through me at his kind words. I wasn’t sure I deserved them, but they touched me in ways I couldn’t begin to describe. Maybe later, when I was alone, I would think back and wonder if this might be the most perfect moment of my life.

And how sad was it that such perfect moments were now defined by dead bodies?

A half block later we turned onto Maiden Lane, and I stopped to stare at a twelve-thousand-dollar cameo in the window of Gump’s. The ivory carving of the woman’s face was flawless, precise and elegant. It was mounted on a piece of amber so dark and rich it appeared midnight blue. Tiny diamonds encased in platinum circled the ivory and crisscrossed into a bow beneath the woman’s face.

“I wonder who called the police?” I mused, tearing my gaze away from the cameo.

“Somebody was watching that building,” Derek said matter-of-factly.

I looked up at him. “Maybe it was just another tenant who heard those two guys screaming and called nine-one-one.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t the sort of place where people would willingly invite the police in.”

“True.”

“And the timing was much too coincidental.”

I turned to face him. “So you really think someone saw us go in there and called the cops?”

He shrugged.

“That’s downright creepy.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Uneasy, I glanced around, then shivered. Was somebody watching us right now? I didn’t want to believe it. Maybe someone, namely the killer, had been watching Mr. Soo’s place to see who might show up. That made some sense. But to be watching Derek and me? Following us around? Why?

I see things.

I shivered at the thought that Ned might be watching us from somewhere around here. But that was ridiculous. Ned never left BABA. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had watched us go into that building.

“Those two men who came into Soo’s office didn’t sound like upstanding citizens, did they?”

“No,” Derek said, and left it at that.

We walked another half block along Maiden Lane and stopped to look at the display of yummy foods in the window of a tiny Italian cafeteria-style bistro. It looked a lot prettier than that amazing cameo. I was hungry before in Chinatown. Now I was ravenous.

Derek, bless his heart, ushered me into the cozy restaurant, where we chose a salad and sandwich to split. I decided to have a glass of wine, too. I deserved it. Derek chose a small bottle of San Pelligrino.