If Books Could Kill (8 page)

“Amen,” said Reverend Anderson.

“Amen,” murmured the crowd.

I stared at the backs of all the people and suddenly realized the murderer might be in the room. He had to be here, gloating. He wouldn’t miss it. The smug bastard.

The thought made me shudder.

Derek must’ve noticed, because he took hold of my hand and tried to rub some warmth back into it.

Next, Royce stood up and went to the front of the room. His eulogy was banal, but at least he’d known Kyle and could say something from the heart. His speech was mercifully short, and everyone seemed grateful for that.

I watched Royce as he walked back to his seat. He was a few years older than Kyle, about the same height but a bit pudgy and soft around the middle. I wondered if he might’ve killed his more attractive, popular cousin. I’d met Royce once or twice when I was dating Kyle but didn’t really know him. Which meant he probably didn’t hate me enough to steal my hammer and use it as a murder weapon.

Damn, that hammer was a real sticking point.

Winnie returned to the podium, scanned the crowd of three hundred or so and asked, “Would anyone else like to speak?”

She waited a beat, and when no one stood up, she said, “Is Brooklyn Wainwright in the room?”

“Huh?”

Derek was taken aback, too, and frowned at me.

“I didn’t do anything,” I whispered.

Everyone turned and strained to get a look at me. Was she going to point me out to the cops?

“ Brooklyn, dear,” Winnie said kindly, “I know you were one of Kyle’s special chums. Would you be willing to share some memories with us?”

I groaned inwardly. This felt too much like high school, with me in the role of bad student being culled from the herd for purposes of ridicule. I hated high school.

“Come on, dear,” Winnie coaxed.

Derek squeezed my hand. “You can do it, old chum.”

“Oh, shut up,” I whispered. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I stood and walked down the long aisle to the podium.

I coughed once to clear my throat. “Kyle was, well, more than a friend,” I said humbly. “He was-”

A door banged open at the back of the room, and some woman shrieked at the sudden noise. That caused a few people to jump to their feet to see what the commotion was all about.

My view was blocked, so I stood on tiptoe to get a look. No luck. The chattering crowd grew louder as more people stood up to watch whatever was going on.

I left the podium and moved toward the aisle and finally saw what was causing the disturbance.

Minka LaBoeuf.

Why was I not surprised?

We all watched in amazement as she half dragged a sobbing woman down the aisle with her. Minka’s face alternated between apprehension at the crowd’s disapproval and disgust with her sniveling companion. But I detected a gleam of triumph in her beady eyes.

I didn’t recognize the woman with her. She was taller than Minka but wispy, as though a soft breeze would knock her off her feet. She was blond and her face was pale and thin. Her gray raincoat was buttoned up tight and she wore a pink pashmina over her head and around her neck as though she’d been grabbed on her way to church. She looked fragile and frankly terrified, like a lamb being led to slaughter.

Minka, on the other hand, looked like a derelict Goth in frayed, tight black leather pants and matching way-too-tight vest over a purple mock-turtleneck sweater. And too much makeup, as usual. Wait. Were those pants
pleather
? Oh, dear God.

Minka marched right up to me and snarled, “Am-scray.”

I held my hand over the microphone and whispered, “Are you nuts? Get out of here. I’m not finished.”

Heck, I hadn’t even started.

She elbowed me out of the way and leaned into the microphone. “Everybody sit down and shut up. I have an announcement to make.”

“Wait a minute,” I said.

Minka snapped her fingers. “Serena. Stand over here.” She pointed to the other side of the podium.

Before the wispy woman could move, I grabbed Minka’s arm and pulled her away from the podium.

“You can wait until I’m through talking,” I said.

“Fuck off,
Brookie
.” She wrenched her arm away, then tried to push me again, but before she could do it, I caught her hand, twisted it and shoved it away from me.

“Ow! You bitch!” she shrieked. “That hurts.”

“Yeah?” I gave her hand another rough twist. “Well, don’t call me Brookie.”

She yanked her hand away and darted back to the microphone.

I got hold of her slimy pleather vest and hauled her farther away from the podium as three hundred people-some of them potential clients, damn it-attempted to watch every move and hear every word.

“Let go of me!” she wailed. “I have a right to talk!”

“After me,” I said through clenched teeth as I clutched her arm tightly. I hadn’t even wanted to talk before, but now I was determined not to let Minka push me off the stage. Kyle had been my friend, damn it. Minka didn’t have the right to talk about him.

“We take our turns,” I said. “It’s how civilized society operates.”

“Oh, screw you and your civil society.” She struggled to get away. “When I’m finished talking, nobody’ll care what you have to say.”

I still had a tight grip on her arm, so she swung her other arm around and smacked the side of my head.

“Damn it,” I said. “I’m sick of you hitting me.” I snatched hold of her oily ponytail and pulled until she was bent backward and bellowing like a farm animal. I continued to pull her down until we were both on our knees. She had both arms free to punch and slap me as I jerked and twisted her head every which way.

Without warning, two strong arms pulled me back; at the same time someone else pulled Minka away from me.

“No!” I protested. “Let me kill her, please.”

“Easy there, champ,” Derek said as he effortlessly hauled me out of harm’s way.

“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled. “I almost had her.”

“Yes, you did,” Derek uttered close to my ear as he scooted me farther away. “We’re all really proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

I noticed with some satisfaction that Detective Inspector Angus MacLeod was the one struggling to hold on to Minka. She wasn’t going meekly.

The wispy blonde, Serena, stood a few feet away, wide-eyed and trembling.

“Who the hell is she?” I wondered aloud.

“I’m afraid we’ll find out soon enough,” Derek said as he urged me back toward our seats. I stopped in the middle of the aisle and watched Minka grapple for the microphone despite the detective’s grip on her. I should’ve warned him about the pleather. That stuff made her slippery as a seal.

“Listen to me,” Minka yelled, causing feedback to scream back at her. She pointed at the pale blond woman she’d dragged in with her. “This is Serena McVee! She’s Kyle’s wife. Or I should say, his
widow.”

“What?” I said, and turned to find Helen in the crowd.

“No.” Helen gasped, and jumped to her feet. “No, she’s-” She stopped, couldn’t seem to catch her breath and began to sway. I stood watching as her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped like a stone.

“You know how I feel about women fainting,” Derek said as he paced the floor in front of the settee where Helen lay passed out.

Despite his ambivalence, minutes ago he’d swept Helen into his arms, yelled at Angus to call a doctor, and carried her out of the memorial service into the smaller sitting room down the hall. I’d shut the door and now the two of us stood by as she remained passed out on the couch.

“I seem to remember you had a slight problem with it,” I said.

That was putting it mildly. Derek and I had met when Abraham died. Derek had pointed a gun at me and accused me of killing Abraham and stealing a priceless book, and I’d fainted right in front of him. He’d been unmoved, apparently, and had slapped me a few too many times trying to revive me. I hadn’t appreciated it. It was the beginning of our beautiful friendship.

“Maybe I should find a washcloth for her forehead,” I said.

“She’ll come around when she’s ready.”

“Did she hit her head on anything?”

“No.” Derek turned his attention to me. “How are you doing?”

I flexed my fingers and massaged my knuckles. “Great. That’s been a long time coming. You should’ve let me pummel the wicked witch.”

He grabbed my hand and examined it. “I would have, but she fights dirty. I was afraid she’d mar your pretty face.”

With a sigh, I said, “I don’t suppose MacLeod heard what I said out there.”

He pursed his lips. “You mean the part where you begged me to let you kill Minka?”

I closed my eyes, nodded. “Yeah, that part.”

He chuckled. “I believe everyone in the room heard it.”

“Oh, swell.”

“If it’s any consolation, the bookies had you at four-to-one odds.”

“Did you have money on me?”

“Of course, and you held the crowd’s sympathies, as well.”

“That counts for something.”

“Bet your ass,” he said, then tugged me closer. “Now tell me where it hurts.”

“Everywhere,” I whispered.

He kissed my cheek and moved his lips to my ear. “Much better,” I said, sighing.

“Wild women fighting,” he murmured in disapproval. “Half the men were drooling over the prospect of watching a real live catfight. I thought I might have to battle some of them, as well.”

“My hero.” I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck as he ran his lips along my jaw.

“Hey, there y’all are!”

That voice. I knew that voice.

“Oh, Christ,” Derek muttered. “I don’t believe it.”

He pushed away in time for me to be swooped up in a hug so tight, I nearly swooned.

“Oh, sweet Mother of God.” I gasped.

“That’s right, baby girl,” my mother said. “Look out, Scotland, here come the Wainwrights!”

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, of course!” She hugged me again and her pretty blond ponytail bobbed with excitement. “Are you surprised?”

“Surprised?” That was an understatement. I’d been expecting Robin, but not in a million years had I expected to see my parents.

“Surprised and happy,” I said, glancing from my petite, perky mom to my friend Robin and my tall, thin, handsome dad. “Really happy.”

“Good to see you, Jim,” Derek said to my dad.

I watched in bewilderment as Dad vigorously shook Derek’s hand several different ways, ending with a fist bump. Derek seemed amused as he played along. Me, not so much. Oh, I was glad to see Mom and Dad, but things were just about to get interesting with Derek and-

“We wanted to surprise you!” Mom said. “We were packing for Paris when I got a message from Romlar X saying the northern lights are rocking right now.”

“A message?” I said, confused. “Romlar’s using e-mail now?”

“Oh, sweetie.” She patted my cheek as if I were a really sharp five-year-old. “Rom’s all telepathic, all the time.”

“I knew that.” Or did I? Romlar X was Mom’s astral guide. I thought he lived in another solar system. Who the hell knew how they communicated back and forth?

“We talked it over with Robson and he agreed this would be the best place to go for our anniversary trip,” Dad said, pushing his glasses up. “Especially when he heard we’d be surprising you.”

“Really?”

Mom nodded. “Robson said you could use a nice surprise or two.”

“He has no idea,” I murmured.

“Yes, he does,” Dad said, eyeing me with concern.

Robson Benedict was the leader of the Fellowship for Spiritual Enlightenment and Higher Artistic Consciousness, the commune where my parents had raised me and my five siblings. Guru Bob, as we called him, was the highly evolved being my parents called teacher, avatar and friend.

Years ago, along with several hundred followers, my folks had followed Guru Bob to the hills of Sonoma County, where they’d bought up several thousand acres of lush fields before the wine country craze drove prices into the stratosphere. A few years ago, our business-savvy commune had incorporated, and now our formerly humble hillside home was a thriving, sophisticated wine-country destination. We’d named our small town Dharma.

“So that’s when we contacted our favorite travel maven.” Mom reached over and squeezed Robin’s arm. “She was able to trade in our Paris reservations for a Scottish Highlands adventure quest.”

“A quest. How intriguing.” Over my mother’s shoulder, I saw Robin grinning like a loon.

“Robin is our spirit guide,” Mom said proudly. “So we’re off to Kilmartin tomorrow. There’s a harmonic energy circle outside of town that might finally prove the existence of the druidic triad.”

“Finally.” I smiled. Seriously, what else could I do?

“Fingers crossed,” she said with excitement. “Then we’ll go to Inverlochy to find the faerie hills. And there’s a yew tree in Fortingall that’s supposed to vibrate if your Vata dosha isn’t aligned. I thought your father could use a tune-up.”

I glanced at Dad. He shrugged, always happy to go along with Mom. Just like the rest of us.

“Lucky Dad,” I said.

“You bet,” he said.

“Is anyone else from Dharma joining you on the tour?” I asked them.

“Nope,” Robin said. “It was always just me and your folks. I told you I was bringing a whole tour group in order to throw you off the scent. Did it work? Are you really surprised?”

“I’m in utter shock,” I said.

“Good,” she said, grinning with satisfaction.

“And I wish I could go with you,” I said dolefully, wondering what Detective Inspector MacLeod would think if I up and ran off to the Highlands.

“Oh, we knew you’d be busy all week,” Mom said, patting my cheek. “We just hope we’ll get a chance to see our Pumpkin in action for a day or so! You don’t mind, do you?”

Pumpkin. That would be me. The nickname was the result of my unfortunate obsession with Thanksgiving dessert at an early age.

Honestly, just looking at Mom and Dad made me feel better. Let’s face it: So far, my time in Scotland hadn’t exactly been a vacation. So to see friendly faces? People who actually knew me and loved me and oh, yes,
trusted
me not to be a cold-blooded murderer? Priceless.

“Of course I don’t mind.” I gave her a fierce hug. “I’m thrilled you’re here.”

Dad tapped me on the shoulder. “How about some of that for your old man?”

I moved from Mom into Dad’s arms while Mom greeted Derek.

“Hello, Rebecca,” Derek said warmly.

Mom giggled as she gave him a big hug. Nobody in the world but Derek called my mother Rebecca, and it seemed to delight her. Mom and Derek had experienced a bonding moment last month when they’d found me in the clutches of a killer.

Dad held me at arm’s length, studied my face and asked, “How’s it going, kiddo?”

I smiled brightly. “Super.”

“Whoa, that doesn’t sound good,” Mom said immediately, her forehead wrinkling as her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“What?” I frowned. “Nothing.”

She slapped her hand onto my forehead. “Do you have a fever?” She squinted at me. “Your third eye looks cloudy. Are you constipated?”

“Help,” I whimpered.

She tapped the top of my head. “How’s your crown chakra? Whistle for me, will you?”

I tried to whistle as Dad turned to Derek. “If there’s a disturbance in the force, Becky’ll find it.”

“Good to know,” Derek said.

“I’m fine, Mom.” I took hold of her hand, removed it from my head and squeezed it gently.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she muttered, turning to rummage through her purse. “I’ll need my stick.”

Her
stick
? I broke away from her to give Robin a friendly hug.

“Jimmy, did I pack my healing rod?” Mom asked as she piled the contents of her bag on a nearby chair.

“It was on the list,” Dad said.

“Why the hell didn’t you warn me?” I whispered in Robin’s ear. God knows I loved my parents, but a person really did need some preparation time before one of their visits.

“And miss this touching scene?” she said. “Not on your life.”

“I’ll kill you later.”

“You can try,” she said. “Cute boots, by the way.”

“Thanks. Oh, God, my parents are insane,” I moaned softly against her shoulder.

She laughed and hugged me tighter. “I love them.” Robin had practically grown up at my house and had known my family forever. My mom was as close to her as her own mother. Probably closer. She was yin to my yang, madcap Lucy to my down-to-earth Ethel. Since we’d grown up together in the commune, our shared memories were unique, to say the least. There was a bond between us that transcended space and time. If

I were in trouble anywhere in the world, Robin would know it.

She knew it now. “What’s going on?” she asked quietly.

“I’ll fill you in later.”

“Okay,” she said. “And I want to know where you got that jacket. It’s way
très chic.”

“You think? Thanks.” I knew she would shriek when I told her I got it at Ross.

“ Brooklyn?” a timid voice piped up.

Oops. Helen. I’d forgotten all about her. I rushed over to the couch as she struggled to sit up. She still looked a little woozy.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Just completely embarrassed,” she said lightly as she tried to fluff her hair. “I’ll get over it. Is this your family?”

I made the introductions, then explained, “Helen had a little fainting spell a while ago.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Mom sat down next to Helen and patted her back. “Can we get you some water?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Helen said weakly. “It was just such a shock.”

“Of course it was,” Mom said sympathetically, although she had no idea what had happened. Or did she? Maybe Romlar X had told her.

“A friend was killed last night,” I explained, realizing they would all find out sooner or later anyway.

Mom glared right into my third eye. “I knew it.”

Trying to avoid her perceptive gaze, I continued. “Kyle was a good friend of mine and Helen’s. There was a memorial service a few minutes ago. It was difficult. Helen fainted.”

“Kyle?” Robin said. “Weren’t the two of you-”

I cut her off with a warning glance. “We found his body last night.”

Helen let out a tiny cry and Mom pulled her into her arms. “Of course you’re in pain,” she said, rocking her gently. “You lost a good friend.”

Tears sprang to my eyes and I was abruptly glad Mom was here. If anyone could deal with Helen’s grief, it was my mother. She was the queen of empathy. I wouldn’t be surprised to return home in a week and find that Helen had moved in. That was how good Mom was at this shoulder-to-cry-on thing.

“I’ll never believe it,” Helen whispered.

“What’s that, sweetie?” Mom asked Helen. But she was looking at me for the answer. Everyone turned to me.

I gave Robin another look of warning, then said, “Kyle and Helen were in love.”

“Oh,” Mom cried, wrapping Helen in another hug. “How awful for you.”

“But it turns out that Kyle was already married,” I continued. “His wife showed up at the memorial service.”

“That could get sticky,” Dad said.

Derek nodded in agreement but said nothing.

“It could all be a sham,” I said lamely. “Minka LaBoeuf was the one who announced the news. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was lying.”

“Minka?” Mom said. “Your chubby friend who made up those stories about you?”

“She is so
not
my friend,” I insisted. I didn’t correct the chubby part, so sue me. “But yes, she’s the one.”

Helen peeked up at me. “You have a real problem with her, don’t you?”

I gritted my teeth. “She’s a total psychopath.”

Helen nodded. “I always thought she was sort of odd.”

“Yes, that’s a good way to put it,” Mom said.

“You’re both being way too kind,” I said, rubbing my temple where Minka had managed to whack me upside the head, the chubby bitch.

I had to wonder why Minka would go to the trouble of making all this stuff up about Kyle and Serena if it wasn’t true. What did she have to gain, either way? And why would that meek woman, Serena, play along with her? Was she an actress? Minka was more than capable of deception, but the other woman had appeared genuinely distraught. I could only conclude that she really was Kyle’s wife. I still didn’t want to believe it, mainly because she didn’t look like she was a whole lot of fun. Kyle would’ve needed someone full of life and fun like him.

Wouldn’t he?

Oh, how would I know? I didn’t know him anymore.

And that hurt. I no longer had the right to judge what Kyle needed in a relationship. Obviously, he hadn’t needed me. If he had, he never would’ve cheated on me.

But had Kyle needed Helen? Had they planned to marry? Maybe Kyle had been trying to get a divorce from this Serena person. Helen seemed so sure of him and their shared love. But if he was married, how had she gotten that impression? She’d been genuinely shocked to hear he had a wife. Now wasn’t the time or place to ask Helen just how certain she was about Kyle’s feelings, but I’d find a time later to pursue the question.

Derek glanced at his watch, and I realized I’d been staring into space ever since Minka’s name was mentioned.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and turned to Robin. “What are your plans? I have to give a presentation in two hours and I need a little prep time. But I’ll be free around four.”

I explained that I was giving a seminar on book fraud and two bookbinding classes at the book fair this week.

“Can we sit in on your workshop this afternoon?” Mom asked.

I laughed. “You didn’t travel over six thousand miles to sit in a stuffy conference room with me, did you?”

“Of course we did,” she said with a grin.

“Suit yourself, but the subject matter’s pretty dry.”

“You’ll make it sing,” she predicted.

“Why don’t we blow this place for a while,” Dad said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Take a look around town. We’ll be back in time to see you in action.”

“Great idea,” I said. I could tell he was antsy. Dad thrived in the outdoors. He loved working in the vineyards back home, any time of year. Raised to join the corporate banking world of his wealthy father, Dad had rebelled and gone off to follow the Grateful Dead. Then, thanks to the Fellowship, he’d morphed again into a happy, successful farmer. He would have a grand time tramping through the Highlands.

“Helen, do you want to come with us?” Mom asked gently. “Some fresh air might do you good.”

“I’d love to,” Helen said excitedly, then grimaced and looked at me. “But we’re having lunch.”

I laughed. “We can always catch up later. Mom’s right about the fresh air.”

Relieved, she turned to Mom. “I’d love to go with you. Thanks so much.”

Mom had worked her magic again. Maybe she truly did have an enchanted stick somewhere in her purse. If she did, I guess I could’ve used a shot at it myself. On second thought, I was going to let that go.

“I must run off to a meeting now, but I’d like to take you all to dinner tonight,” Derek said out of the blue.

“Really?” I said, pleased by his offer.

“Yes, really,” he said, aiming an intimate smile at me. Was I blushing?

“Oh, Derek!” Mom said after a quick exchange of looks with Dad. “We’d love that.”

“But we’ll take you,” Dad said, getting an early start on the manly tradition of fighting over the bill.

“No, you’re in my territory and I insist,” Derek said with a firm smile. “You’ll be my guests.”

Dad knew when to capitulate. “That’s very generous. Thanks, Derek.”

Helen started to stand and Mom helped her up.

“Thank you,” Helen whispered. “I hate feeling so weak.”

Mom tucked Helen’s arm through hers. “You should try to get your ojas replenished while you’re here. I understand there’s an excellent panchakarma clinic in the Grassmarket.”

Helen raised an eyebrow in my direction and I stepped in to translate for Mom.

“Ojas,” I said. “It’s Sanskrit. Basically, it’s the body’s essential energy, or fluid of life, both physical and spiritual. So this panchakarma clinic will clean you out physically and set you right spiritually through enemas, some therapeutic purging and bloodletting. The usual stuff.”