Books of a Feather (26 page)

Marva's heels clattered across the floor and I suddenly felt the gun against my back. “Who the hell is this dimwit?”

I bristled and knew I'd reached the end of my rope. There was no way I was going to let her hurt my parents or anyone else.

“That's
my
mommy,” I said with a growl, and elbowed her. Catching her by surprise, I whipped around and smacked the gun
out of her hand. Then I pounced on her. We both fell to the floor with me on top, luckily. I punched her with my left fist, breaking her nose.

The woman screamed and blood went flying. I rolled off and was thrilled to see Derek, despite his weakness, reach up and slap the gun out of Kea's hand.

Now we just had to worry about Bai. He had been momentarily stunned, but now he raised his arm and flourished the knife in his hand. He started toward Derek and I screamed, “No!”

At that very second, Gabriel and Alex stormed into our place. Gabriel was on Bai in a heartbeat, and the knife was kicked across the room. Dad walked over, picked up the weapon with two fingers, and set it on top of the bookshelf, where none of our visitors could reach it.

Alex easily overpowered Kea with one swift kick to the woman's knee, causing her to buckle. She lifted Kea up with one hand and shoved her into a chair. Then she grabbed the gun that had skittered across the floor. Turning it on Kea, she said, “You're going to want to stay put.”

My hand was beginning to throb from punching Marva's big, hard head. But I didn't mind the pain. In fact, I savored it. She deserved a bloody broken nose and a lot more besides.

“Cops and ambulance are on their way,” Alex said.

“Thank you.” Pointing to the man lying on the floor, I said, “Can you please check to make sure Crane is still alive?”

“Sure, honey. You take care of Derek.”

“I will. Mom, can you make some coffee? They gave Derek and Crane some kind of drug.”

I rushed over to Derek. He was still groggy and could barely hold his head up. I held him for a moment, then cried, “Mom! Hurry!”

“Coffee's coming up,” she said, and pushed me out of the way. She gave Derek a few light slaps and whispered something in his ear. He mumbled a few words.

Mom reached into her purse and pulled out a packet of herbs and odd chunks of something. Pills? Crystals? “I need that coffee!” she shouted.

“It's coming,” I said, wondering at what point we'd traded places.

She began to chant while sprinkling some kind of sparkly crystal substance and crushed herbs over Derek.

“Oh my God,” I muttered. I set the coffee mug on the table and patted Derek's shoulders. “Drink this, love. Come on, you can do it.”

Mom and I both urged him to swallow a full cup of strong coffee. A few minutes after that, Derek began to revive.

Mom dashed over and gave Crane the same treatment of strong coffee, crystals, and crushed herbs. Alex grabbed one of the small pillows from the sofa and slipped it under his head. Finally, he blinked and glanced around. Alex was still kneeling over him.

“Hi there,” she said.

“Hello,” he whispered. “Are you an angel?”

Alex nodded at me. “He'll be okay.”

She stroked his cheek softly and then stood. Crane looked ready to protest her leaving his side, but he was still too weak.

“Darling,” Derek whispered.

Thrilled that he was able to speak, I pulled a chair close to his and wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “What is it, love?”

“I'm . . . sorry. I brought a . . . killer into our home. Crane . . . tried to warn me.”

I wanted to cry. For the first time in my life, I looked into his eyes and saw his confidence completely shaken. And that scared me more than anything that had come before.

“I love you . . . more than . . . life,” he murmured.

“And I love you even more.”

“But . . . evil . . . our home. Wrong.”

I knew what he was trying to say and I quickly spoke up. “It wasn't you who brought them here. Look around. This was all about that stupid bird book. And that's on me. I was the reason these creeps came into our home. So don't you dare go thinking—”

“Darling, please. I need to finish saying this.”

I huffed out a sigh. “Go ahead.”

“If you want to call off the wedding, I'll understand.”

“What?” I blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. “Sorry, pal. Nice try, but you're stuck with me.”

“But—”

“No.” The good news was that my arguing seemed to give him strength and he sat up and looked at me straight on.

I leaned forward. “May I remind you that
I
once brought a killer into our home?” I could see the moment realization dawned. He knew what I was talking about. “You didn't banish me from your life, Derek, so I'm willing to return the favor. I'm marrying you and we're going to be the two happiest people in the world.”

He reached out and wrapped his arms around me and I buried my head in his embrace. A good thing, because I felt a few tears escape.

“So we're even,” he muttered finally.

I laughed. “Yes. We're even.”

•   •   •

Crane was finally able to lift his head and scan the room. He found his brother, still being held down by Gabriel. “Why? Why did you do this?”

“I was trying to save our family name.” The look Bai shot Crane was pure contempt. “Someone had to do it.”

“Instead you have tainted it,” Crane said. “And these women who helped you are nothing but common criminals.”

“You think you know everything, but you don't. That book belongs in our family, and Kea was just as devoted to finding it as I was. She loves me.”

I was pretty sure she was incapable of loving anyone but herself, but it wasn't my place to say so.

Crane snorted weakly. “She wanted the book for her mother, not for you. They were only in it for the money they could make selling it.”

“That's not true.” He appealed to Kea. “Tell him.”

Kea rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Marva wasn't inclined to be as quiet as her daughter. “He's been talking about that damn book ever since he showed up at the society. He said he had traced it from a Scottish bookshop to our meeting place. I quickly realized the book had to be more valuable than we first thought.”

“So you decided to steal it,” I said.

“Aren't you brilliant?” she said, baring her teeth at me. “But then the book disappeared. I confronted Jared and he said it was being audited. I pumped him for more information and he became suspicious. He told me he would report me to the police if the book went missing.”

“Did Jared tell you he found it in a bookshop?”

“Yeah. While he was on vacation in Scotland. What are the chances?” Marva rolled her eyes, something she did with alarming frequency. Just like her daughter. “He found it within days of Bai
tracking the book down to the bookshop. Bai's a good little tracker. I'll give him that. It's just too bad his timing sucks. The book was gone, but he finally tracked it to Jared and the National Bird-watchers Society. Once he told me about how valuable the book was, I told Kea to get close to him. Didn't realize I'd have to deal with Dumb and Dumber.”

Kea slumped in her chair, apparently fed up with her mother's criticism of her and her boyfriend.

Derek reached for more coffee and I glared at Bai. “What did you drug them with?”

“It's a mild derivative of curare,” Bai said smugly. “It causes the system to slow down. I thought it would give us enough time to get the book and get out.”

I wanted to slap that smirk off his face, but I was just grateful he didn't have the killer instinct like the two women. But that brought up another question. “How did you get them to take it?”

“It's on the knife,” he said brightly. “The blade was coated with a liquid form of the poison. So while Kea had the gun trained on them, I sliced both of their arms.”

I knew the horror showed on my face, knew I would be perfectly happy to grab that stupid knife and slice all three of them, so I turned away.

“That knife,” Crane said slowly, “has been in our family for a thousand years. You have betrayed our ancestors and your family by using it this way.”

“Oh, cram it, big brother,” Bai muttered.

Crane shook his head and I could see the pain he felt saying the words. “I will rejoice to see you behind bars permanently.”

I couldn't agree more but said nothing. Bai looked as though he wanted to lash out, but Gabriel tightened his grip on him.

Something else occurred to me and I glanced at Marva. “Was Micah Featherstone working with you?”

None of the three reacted to the name.

“Who's that?” Marva asked.

“Just some random book thief,” I muttered, thinking about Billy's sociopathic buyer of
Poor Richard's Almanack
. “I figured you all stuck together.”

“That book was important to our family,” Bai said, trying again to justify his actions. “Our ancestor was robbed of his work and his dignity. Audubon stole both from him and used Sheng's talent for his own benefit.”

“You're wrong,” Crane insisted. “Sheng was honored to work with Audubon and be a part of the great painter's most ambitious project.”

“That's not true.”

“It is true,” Crane countered. “I told you to read Sheng's journals, but you never would. You thought you already knew everything, but you were wrong. Sheng was aware that he was a great painter, but to have that skill acknowledged by the master of ornithological art was one of the crowning glories of his life. We both know Audubon would never have hired Sheng if he didn't agree that our ancestor was as highly talented as himself.”

“You just want to keep Sheng in the shadows,” Bai protested. “He should've been famous. He should've been known as an even greater painter than Audubon.”

“Perhaps so. But perhaps you're conflating your own dismal career with our esteemed ancestor's,” Crane said softly. “You should've been famous. You should've been known as the greatest painter in China. Instead you'll spend the rest of your life in an American prison.”

Bai was silent after that. I wanted to weep for Crane. He had tried his whole life to make his brother happy, but it was ultimately a useless exercise. I wanted to give him a hug, but I would wait until Bai was taken away.

“So your family never had a copy of
Songbirds in Trees
?” I asked.

Crane had to take a few slow breaths before he could speak. “The book was thought to have been lost in a poker game and then it was won back. But it was lost again by the next generation.” He smiled. “Another version of the story has it that the book never left Scotland. As with so many things, there are family legends attached to the book. Some of us weren't certain it ever actually existed.”

But it did exist, I thought. I glanced at Alex. “The police should be here any second. I'll be right back.”

•   •   •

By the time I returned, Inspector Lee and her partner had arrived and two uniformed cops were handcuffing the three thieving killers. Crane sat at the dining table, quietly commiserating with Derek. I walked over and joined them.

“This is for you,” I said, sliding a wrapped package across to him. I didn't care if I could ever prove that Sheng had actually painted those
Songbirds in Trees
, and I didn't care that the book wasn't actually mine to give. Jared might have paid a few dollars for it in a Scottish bookshop, but after watching the deadly Marva Pesca in action, I swore there was no way I was going to hand the beautifully restored volume over to the Bird-watchers Society. It rightfully belonged to Crane and his family.

Crane glanced from me to Derek, then unwrapped the package.
Songbirds in Trees
looked perfect in his hands.

It took him a long moment, but he finally gazed at me and his
lips curved slightly. “Thank you, Brooklyn. I will never forget your bravery and friendship.”

I reached out and covered his hand with mine. “I'll never forget yours, either.”

•   •   •

In between the reading of rights and the arrests of Marva, Kea, and Bai, I had a chance to catch Inspector Lee in a quiet corner of the room.

“Any word on Micah Featherstone?” I asked.

She scowled. “It's like he disappeared in the wind. We haven't found any trace of him, and he never returned to the bookshop to get his book.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “But he gave them five thousand dollars.”

“Yeah, about that. He must have known it was a setup because the bills he gave them were counterfeit.”

“What? Wow.” I'd never seen a counterfeit bill before. As far as I knew, anyway. I rubbed my arms to ward off the sudden chill I felt at the news of Featherstone's disappearance. “I just hope I never run into him again.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

I had another question I was almost afraid to ask, but I plunged ahead anyway. “So how did your mother like the book?”

She grinned. “She loved it. You did a fantastic job, Brooklyn.”

I barely resisted clapping my hands with glee. “I'm so glad,” I said, and couldn't help adding, “And she liked the modern art crayon work?”

Lee chuckled. “Yeah, she did.”

“Oh, good. I'm really happy you decided to leave it as it was.”

“Yeah, I guess I owe you one,” she said.

“No, you don't,” I said, frowning. “You already paid me.”

“True, but I still owe you one because you were right.”

“Was I?” Not that I was fishing, but how often had Janice Lee told me I was right about something? I had to hear the details.

“Yeah,” Lee said, smiling fondly at an image in her mind. “Because when she opened that beautiful box and found the book, I had the infinitely pleasurable experience of seeing my indomitable mother dissolve into sloppy sentimental tears for the first time in years. And that, my friend, was worth everything.”