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During the di
When he walked back in with Inspector Lee, I tried my darnedest to appear serene and normal instead of showing how stu
“What’s wrong with you?” Lee asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Nothing,” I said, three octaves too high. “What’s new with you, Inspector?”
I could see Derek rolling his eyes, but it was his fault for bringing the cops back with him.
Lee leaned against the table and crossed her ankles. “You wouldn’t know anything about the demise of a Mr. Soo, would you?”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” I asked. I could hear the BS in my own voice. Oh, when would I learn to lie effectively?
Lee scoffed. “Maybe because Naomi Fontaine mentioned his name two nights ago when you were standing right there.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe.”
She watched my face as she said, “He’s dead.”
I blinked a few times, then said, “You’re kidding.”
“Jesus, Wainwright, don’t take it to Vegas.”
This wasn’t the first time I’d heard that warning, but it was still a
Lee pulled her notebook out of her pocket and flipped through it until she found a photo paper-clipped to a page. “You’ve got to be the world’s worst liar.”
“But that’s a good thing, don’t you think?” I said.
“Yeah, whatever.” She handed me the photo. “Here’s his picture. Look familiar?”
I took a quick glance, shuddered and looked away. Hell, yeah, he looked familiar. I’d just seen him the day before, lying dead under a bookshelf. Wincing, I forced myself to look at the photo again. “Yes, he’s the guy who stormed out of Layla’s office the first night I was here. The one I told you about.”
She slipped the photo back into her notebook. “We found a key in his pocket with a Bay Area Book Arts logo on it. Turns out it’s the key to Ms. Fontaine’s office.”
“Really?” I said. “I guess they knew each other pretty well.”
“That’s one theory.”
“Do you think the same person killed both of them?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “What do you think?”
“Seems more than likely.” I sipped my latte casually, praying I wouldn’t spill it down my shirt. “Can you tell if they were killed with the same gun?”
“Call me cuckoo, but I’m not go
“Yeah, we do.” I watched her warily as she made her way back to me.
She stuck her hands in her pockets. “One thing I will tell you is that I think Ms. Fontaine and Mr. Soo were trafficking in stolen or forged rare books.”
“Huh.” I smiled.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“So,” I said, measuring her, “how’s my sting operation looking to you now?”
She laughed, then gave me a look that told me not to hold my breath. “I’ll have my people call your people.”
Alice came ru
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m overjoyed,” she said. “They let Gunther go.”
“Oh, good,” I said, feigning surprise. “So that must mean he’s i
“Yes, and he’s agreed to teach a class Saturday afternoon. But there’s more. I talked to a few of the board members and they’re absolutely thrilled about Gunther going to jail. I guess word got out and the ticket sales for the gala are up more than twenty percent.”
She did a happy little jig around me, and when she finally slowed down I had a few seconds to study her face. Fine lines around her eyes were carefully masked with a natural but thick matte foundation. And there were the tiniest little folds by her earlobes. She really did look older than I’d originally thought, and that realization chilled me straight down to the marrow.
“That’s great,” I managed to say with a smile, then reminded myself that just because she was trying to look younger didn’t mean she was a vicious killer.
“Thanks,” she said, catching her breath. “I know it’s crazy, but I guess the idea of cozying up to a possible felon has brought donations and requests pouring in from all over the city. It’s going to be a huge success.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from commenting on her “cozying up to a felon” remark.
“I’m so happy for you,” I said in the most sincerely perky voice I could muster.
The other students straggled in from di
A sociologist would have a field day here, observing female behavior as a new alpha male was introduced into the group.
My ladies’ chests were thrust forward, shoulders pulled back, hair fluffed more often, and laughter a bit more high-pitched. And maybe it was just me, but you could cut the tension with a bone folder. It felt as though an eternity passed before class was finally finished for the evening.
Alice was the last to leave. She waved excitedly, then flashed a stealthy look at Derek and gave me a thumbs-up. It was something a girlfriend would do.
I smiled and waved, but as soon as she was out the door, I slumped against the table, exhausted. Either she was a psychopathic killer or I had just betrayed a budding friendship. Either way, I felt sick at heart.
Derek stood behind me and massaged my shoulders. “You’ll feel much better once we’ve cleared her of any wrongdoing.”
I turned around and faced him. “You promise? Because right now I feel pretty awful. I wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to me again.”
“She need never know,” he whispered. “And it’s all for a good cause.” He planted a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” I grabbed my bag and we walked out arm in arm. In the gallery, Karalee was finishing up a small group tour of the facilities. There had been a lot more visitors this week because of the Twisted festival, and the hours had been extended. Refreshments were served all day, as well, and the caterers were starting to clean up.
Leaning close to Derek, I whispered, “Did you get some good photos?”
“I managed to get a number of close-ups of all the key players,” he said, his lips close to my ear. Tingles resonated across my skin as he moved his mouth along my neck. It took me a minute to recall that we were in the middle of the gallery in full view of people, talking about him taking pictures of possible murder suspects.
“Good job,” I managed, and exhaled. “The sooner Gabriel can look at the shots, the sooner we’ll be able to put an end to this charade.”
Derek drove to my place and parked the Bentley in the visitors’ space in the garage. “Do you think we can sneak in without anyone noticing?”
I laughed. “Not if we take the elevator.”
“Where are the stairs?”
“Right over there.”
“Good.” He touched my cheek, his hand warm on my skin as he turned my face toward his. He leaned in and kissed me and I savored the sensation. I was disarmed by his gentleness as his hands slipped through my hair and he pulled me closer.
His phone trilled loudly in the quiet of his car.
Derek groaned. “I’m going to throw that thing away.”
“It’s me, I’m cursed,” I said, flopping back in my seat. “Don’t blame the phone.”
He answered the call. After a minute, he hung up and leaned back against the headrest. With eyes closed, he said, “The prime minister’s jealous son-in-law just tried to kill Gunther.”