If Books Could Kill (21 page)

Maybe I was just jealous that Helen had a new BFF.

I thought about that for a few seconds but concluded that Helen’s having a new BFF had nothing to do with it. The truth was, I was concerned that this Stepford person in front of me had done something with my friend Helen. I’d always admired her well-honed sense of humor, but that part of her was completely missing this time around. Maybe the trauma of Kyle’s death had pushed her over the edge. Or maybe the last few years spent with Martin had dulled her ability to recognize irony when it stuck its tongue out at her.

“Well, Serena sounds like a peach,” I said finally, trying for lightness. “I hope you have fun at the pub.”

“Why don’t you join us?”

I touched her arm. “Thanks, but Derek and I are having an early dinner. After that, I have to prepare for my workshop.”

“Okay, but if you get free, come on by.”

“I will.” Not.

“So,” Derek said when she was gone. “Where are we having dinner? Do we have a reservation?”

“Okay, I lied. But you were a good excuse, so thanks.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the commanders.”

We both watched Helen as she made her way down the wide aisle of book vendors.

“Derek,” I said after a moment, “have you ever noticed that women can be really stupid?”

He put his arm around my shoulders. “And yet, they’re generally smarter than men.”

“That’s a sad, sad statement.”

Derek had to run off to some royal business function at the Palace of Holyroodhouse, and tonight was the night Robin had planned to take Mom and Dad on the ghost tour.

I had wanted to study the Robert Burns book in depth, in hopes of gleaning some clue from it, and it seemed I now had the time to do so. I stopped at the front desk and the clerk led me to the small, secure safety-deposit room, inserted the hotel key in the box, then left me alone. I inserted my key in the second keyhole and pulled the box down. Alone in the secure cubicle, I felt a chill along my spine. I glanced around. I was indeed alone. There were no two-way mirrors where someone could see what I had in the box. I attributed my nerves to finding Perry’s body earlier and fought to shake off the feelings.

I pulled the book out of the long steel box and unwrapped it. I needed to see it, needed to touch the leather binding and assure myself that despite the furor circling around me and the book fair, the Robert Burns book was perfectly safe and unharmed. I hadn’t taken a good look at it since before the attack in the National Library, and that seemed like ages ago.

It had all started with this book. The murders, the attacks, the questions. Could it possibly hold the answers to any of them? Was that putting too much pressure on one little book? But books didn’t kill people. They didn’t steal tools from your hotel room or try to run you off the road.

Pulling away the parchment paper, I gazed at the book and marveled all over again at the beautiful condition of the leather. The deeply etched gilding shone like new. Thistle and heather, Solomon’s wheels, everything indicated that William Cathcart’s own hand had created this masterpiece. His bindery’s name was stamped on the leather lining of the inside back cover. So why was I suspicious of it?

Maybe because I was seeing it in the harsh light of the small room. In the bright light, I had to wonder, was it really a Cathcart? It would’ve been easy enough for a master bookbinder to duplicate Cathcart’s work.

I’d once copied a rare Dubuisson binding, right down to the one-o’clock birds the revered seventeenth-century French bookbinder was famous for. I’d done a good enough job that the head curator of the Covington Library was completely fooled. Of course, he was my fiancé at the time, so maybe he’d been a bit prejudiced.

Had someone pulled off the same trick with this William Cathcart edition? There were a few ways to tell if this book was made over two hundred years ago or within the last year. I’d given the class in forgery just two days ago, so if anyone could find out the truth about the book, it would be me. Right?

With a deep sigh, I wrapped the book up and slipped it into my bag. I was still nervous. Taking the book with me was probably dangerous. After all, someone had been able to gain access to my room as easily as if it had a revolving door to it. The book would be safer in the lockup, but then I might never have the chance to determine whether it was the real deal or an excellent forgery.

Earlier, knowing I’d made no plans for tonight, I’d felt at loose ends and a little sorry for myself. Now, the thought of spending the evening alone in my room with a good book, a rare steak and a decent bottle of wine was extremely appealing.

Especially if I uncovered a forgery.

“Hey!” someone yelled in my dreams.

Glass broke and footsteps pounded on the iron railing outside my window.

I sat up straight, threw off the covers and bolted from the bed. My hotel room was dark, but moonlit shadows flew around the walls from the curtains blowing and swaying across my window. Disoriented, I trembled in fear. Chills hit me in places I didn’t know existed.

Suddenly a man jumped in through my window. More glass shattered in his wake. He pushed me back on the bed as he raced to the door. I could hear him fumble with the locks. Then the door opened and slammed shut.

“What the-”

Stunned and frightened, I leaped up, switched on the light and looked around. My eyes were blurry with sleep, but I couldn’t see anything out of place. I focused on the clock next to the lamp. It was three fifteen.

What the hell?

Without warning, more heavy footsteps rattled the fire escape outside. I screamed and an instant later, another man jumped through my window. Taller, broader, dressed in black.

No. This couldn’t be real.

“Where’d he go?” he demanded.

“Out the door!” I shouted, then lost my balance and fell back on the bed. Again. Probably from shock.

He stormed to the door, whipped it open and ran out into the hall.

I followed him to the door. He was pacing up and down the hall, swearing sharply. What was he doing here, and where in the world had he come from?

Then he stalked back into my room. It took another few seconds of creative swearing before he seemed to notice me again.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “You’re looking good.” Then he bent over to catch his breath.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I shouted. This wasn’t a dream. I was wide-awake now, but still bewildered and slightly discombobulated. And yeah, angry.

He straightened up and let out another heavy breath, then raked both hands through his thick black hair. Talk about looking good. The man was gorgeous, if you like them tall, tough and sexy, with hair long enough to tie back and eyes greener than a Sonoma hillside.

He laughed, still breathing heavily. “Haven’t climbed a fire escape in a few years. Call the police, would you?”

“Gabriel,” I said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He studied me frankly, from my toes up to my hair. Then he grinned, causing his eyes to sparkle and two adorable dimples to appear in his cheeks. “Saving your ass again. Not that I mind. It’s a fine ass.”

I looked down. Yes, I was still wearing my baggy plaid flannel pajamas. On the bright side, at least I was wearing something.

He, on the other hand, wore a black leather bomber jacket over a black T-shirt, boots and worn black jeans that perfectly accented his equally fine ass.

Gabriel-no last name, apparently-and I had met a month or so ago when he helped save me from a psychopathic teenager who’d been hired by Abraham’s murderer to kill me. And if that didn’t make sense, welcome to my world.

After gaining my trust, Gabriel had later stolen an extremely rare copy of Plutarch’s
Parallel Lives
from my apartment and given it to Guru Bob. Heck, if I’d known Guru Bob wanted the book, I would’ve given it to him myself. I didn’t need some darkly handsome thief breaking into my place to do it for me.

And here he was. It was déjà vu all over again.

“Gabriel, what’s going on?”

He’d moved over to the window and was checking the broken glass. “Call the police first. We can shoot the breeze after.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll shoot the breeze.” Not trusting him as far as I could throw him, I kept an eye on him as I picked up the phone and made the emergency call, asking the dispatcher to alert Detective Inspector MacLeod that there had been a break-in related to the recent murders.

I hung up the phone and stared hard at Gabriel. Despite my mistrust, I knew I was perfectly safe with him. But that wasn’t the point.

“What are you really doing here?”

“I’m here on business,” he said, pushing the windows open and climbing out to the fire escape. He fiddled with the window locks, and it looked as if he were testing them for some reason. Then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe down the locks and the window frame.

“Wait!” I said. “There might be fingerprints.”

“Right,” he said. “Mine.” His generous mouth twisted into a frown as he wiped down the surface of the unbroken glass. “I don’t need any trouble with the Edinburgh constabulary.”

“But you didn’t do anything,” I insisted. “I’ll tell them you came in to help me.”

“I appreciate that, babe.” His smile was so sweet, his dimples so delectable that I had a hard time remembering he was basically a thief. “Do you have another room you can stay in tonight?”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking of Robin. I dropped into the desk chair and rubbed my face. I should’ve been more freaked out, but the truth was, I was just too tired to manage it. I knew without a doubt that it was the killer who had run through my room before Gabriel showed up.

“What happened?” I asked. “How did you come after this guy?”

“Just lucky,” he said with a shrug. “I was crossing the parking lot and happened to look up and see him outside your room. I threw some rocks at him, then finally started up the fire escape after him. That’s when he broke your window and escaped through here.”

“Wow, lucky is right.”

“Damn straight.”

“Did you recognize him? Could you describe him for the police?”

“I couldn’t see him that well,” he explained as he crossed the room to wipe the door handle clean. “I basically saw a figure by your window and went after him.”

I sat back in the chair. “Well, that sucks.”

Gabriel moved to the desk and wiped it down. “I’d say he was probably my height, about six feet, maybe six-one. But that’s about it. Sorry.”

My shoulders slumped. I wouldn’t be able to describe the guy either, except to say that he was definitely male. So much for my powers of observation.

“I’m just glad you were here,” I murmured, shaking my head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you were walking by and saw that guy.” What would’ve happened if Gabriel hadn’t been here? Would I be dead by now? I couldn’t dwell on that. It was meant to be that Gabriel had been in that parking lot at precisely the right moment.

I thought about that for a moment, then asked, “So let me get this straight: You were out in the parking lot?”

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curved in a smile. “Some luck, huh? I was just leaving for the airport.”

“At three in the morning.”

He grinned. “A red-eye.”

I studied him. “And how did you know the guy was outside
my
room?”

He smiled wickedly. “I get paid to know these things.”

My heart thudded in my chest. He really was gorgeous.

And I really was a sap. “Oh, damn it.” I jumped up and ran to the bed. “My book.”

“What book?” Gabriel asked as he folded up the handkerchief and stuck it back in his pocket.

“The Robert Burns. Crap, crap, crap.” It wasn’t anywhere on the bed where I’d fallen asleep reading it. I pulled the bedspread completely off the bed and shook it. Nothing. I knelt down and searched the floor. Nothing.

“Let me help you,” he said, and knelt down next to me. “What does it look like?”

“It’s red. It’s… it’s…” He was so close, I could smell him. Clean, citrusy. Sexy. Whew.

Disgusted with myself, I concentrated on looking for the book, running my hands along the floor, around the nightstand. The bed was perched on a solid platform, so nothing could’ve slid underneath.

The book was gone.

But how? The intruder was in my room for maybe five seconds, and that was at a dead run.

“It’s not here,” I said finally, accepting the inevitable. “I’m so screwed.”

“Sorry, babe.”

I stood up and looked him in the eyes. “How could he have stolen it? I saw him race right through the room. He never stopped.”

“Beats me, babe.”

I stared at him as a police siren shrieked in the still night.

“The cops should be here soon,” he said. “Maybe they can help you find it. I’ve got to get going.”

“Probably a good idea,” I said, blocking his way as I held out my hand. “But first, give me the book.”

He smiled in sympathy. “Ah, now, see? You’re all distraught.”

“Give me the book, Gabriel.”

“Honey, I would love nothing better.” He pointed toward the open window, where the sound of the police siren grew more shrill. “But that’s my cue to get moving.”

“Gabriel, I know you have it,” I said, slowly moving closer to him. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you’ve got it.”

“Calm down, babe,” he said, holding up both hands.

“Give it to me and I won’t sic the cops on you.”

He checked his wristwatch. “Look at the time. I should be going.”

“Did you sneak in here earlier and take it?” I asked. “Then maybe a while later, as you were about to drive away, you happened to see the other guy up here?”

His eyes narrowed and he took a step back. “Yeah, and I saved your life.”

“I appreciate that,” I said through clenched teeth. “I feel truly blessed that you came along when you did, but I don’t think it was a coincidence, now, was it?”

I was so angry, I pushed him.

He chuckled as he grabbed my wrists. “Babe, you’re getting kind of violent, and I’m a peaceful man.”

“See, I’m usually totally peaceful, too,” I said, managing to push him again despite his hold on me. His chest was like a steel wall. “But you’re making me so mad, I can’t seem to help myself.”

The blaring sirens came closer.

I held out my hand. “I want it now, damn it.”

Gabriel sighed, unzipped his bomber jacket, pulled out the book and tossed it on the bed.

My eyes were wide as I stared at the book, then back at him. “Oh, my God, you really had it.”

I punched him in the stomach.

“Ouch,” he said.

“Oh, give me a break. You barely felt that.”

“I felt it.” Without any warning, he grabbed my elbows, tugged me close and kissed me. I was so shocked I let him. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. And I let him. He was really good at it. His lips were warm and soft, and when he finally lifted his head and stepped back, I almost sank to the floor.

But I didn’t.

“Gotta go,” he said, zipping up his jacket.

“Thanks for the book,” I said, gazing right back at him.

“I’ll see you soon, Brooklyn.”

“In your dreams.”

He laughed. “You got that right, babe.” He winked at me, walked over to the window and was gone.

The police jammed into my room minutes later, but after all was said and done, they were no closer to finding the killer than they were before. All I could tell them about the man who ran through my room was that he was male. It could’ve been anyone.

With a broken window and fingerprint dust on every surface of my room, I packed a few things and went to spend the rest of the night in Robin’s room.

I woke up four hours later feeling prickly again. I couldn’t sleep another minute. Someone besides Gabriel had gotten into my room last night, and it was just a guess, but I was pretty sure their motive had been to either kill me or steal another weapon. Either way, that someone wanted me dead or rotting in jail, which was unsettlingly close to the same thing.

But who? And why?

I glanced at the other side of the king-size bed. Robin was still snoring softly. I got up and went to wash my face, brush my teeth and dress for the day. Staring at the mirror, I told myself it was time to shape up, regroup, make a new list of suspects and try to save my own damn life. Starting now.

At Robin’s desk, I pulled out a hotel notepad and once again wrote down any and all possible suspects. The list wasn’t very long. My best suspect was dead. I was running out of possibilities and I had to face facts. Rather than the two dead men, I was the one who seemed to be the common denominator. So everyone I knew went on the list, including Royce, Martin, even Winnie Paine, the elderly IAAB president, along with Helen, Serena and Minka.

I decided not to add Gabriel, since he’d had the perfect opportunity to kill me last night and hadn’t done so-not that I’d ever suspected he was capable of it. I also didn’t list Derek or my parents or Robin. But I did write down the names of my friends Peter and Benny and four other booksellers I was friendly with. I knew it hadn’t been a woman running through my room during the night, but I was leaving no stone unturned. Maybe one of them had a male accomplice.

There was a knock on the door. Robin muttered into her pillow.

I shook her leg and said, “Get up, girlfriend. We have company.”

She grunted as I answered the door. It was MacLeod and Derek, and I was glad I’d changed out of my luscious plaid jammies.

“Come on in,” I said, leading the way inside, where I flung the curtains open and pulled the desk chair out. “Have a seat. Robin, company’s here.”

Robin burbled some profanity, then rolled over, opened her eyes and shrieked like a girl. She jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Derek bit back a grin, but MacLeod’s eyes goggled as though he’d seen a vision. Robin did not sleep in plaid jammies, to say the least.

“What’s up?” I asked Derek, as MacLeod seemed incapable of speech.

“You had an interesting night,” Derek said, leaning one hip against the desk.

“That’s one way to put it,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So much excitement, yet you didn’t call.”

Uh-oh.

I could tell he was offended. Crap, I hated that. But what to say? I couldn’t mention Gabriel.

“I called the police,” I said, which was totally true. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought I’d lost the book and I was searching around for it, and by the time I found it, the police were knocking on the door. Then Robin came down to help me pack…”

I was an idiot.

He probably thought the same thing as he listened to me blather.

Angus’s phone rang and he excused himself to talk in the hall.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” I said, almost ready to cry. And I really was sorry. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t called him, but to say I’d had a crazy night was putting it mildly.