The Book Stops Here (38 page)

I stared as a very large, heavy, priceless Sevres urn on top of the cabinet tottered and plummeted, landing on Grizzly’s head and knocking him out.

“That was almost too easy,” I said, my legs trembling a little.

“My urn,” Edward cried as he cowered in the corner.

“Oh, please,” I muttered, exhausted. I leaned back against the matching cabinet to catch my breath. “It just broke the handle. You can glue it back. And you’re welcome, by the way. I just saved your sorry ass.”

Edward screamed and pointed. “No, the other one!”

I looked up and saw another massive porcelain urn wobbling and quickly steadied the cabinet. The urn managed to stabilize and I breathed in relief.

“Brooklyn!” Derek dashed into the room and grabbed me. I glanced around and was pleased that no books had been ruined in the melee.

Alex’s dress, on the other hand, was torn badly.

Epilogue

Two weeks later, Alex was still telling stories about my valiant effort to catch another killer, just as Vinnie had promised her I would.

The night of the party, when Derek ran into the library and saved me from Grizzly and the falling urns, Alex had been right behind him. She was shocked to see all the destruction, but also secretly tickled that she’d been an eyewitness to the wrap-up of another successful murder investigation by the amazing Brooklyn. Or so her story went.

She was laying it on a little thick, but I wasn’t about to ruin all her fun. I owed her too much. For one thing, she had helped stop Mrs. Sweet in her tracks. The murderous housekeeper had been sneaking down the stairs to make her escape when Derek and Alex came running upstairs, looking for me. Alex had chased after the woman and forced her to stay put while Derek ran ahead and saved me from the monstrous Grizzly.

And, for another thing, Alex hadn’t cared about the damage to her dress, which she insisted could be fixed. She was more concerned about me. And not just because I had been confronted by that monstrous woman and her two criminal sons.

No, Alex’s main concern for me had stemmed from her having experienced a mind-numbing conversation with the dreadful Minka. It was during the party, after I had already run off to the library.

Alex had stood at the bar with Minka and, in an effort to make small talk, she’d mentioned that she was my friend. The vitriol began, with Minka spewing all sorts of vile and semi-intelligible insults about me.

I was used to Minka’s despicable wrath, but Alex had never heard anything like it. I brushed it off, but she claimed to fear for my sanity if I ever had to work with Minka again.

Meanwhile, Vera Stoddard had a lovely niece who came forward to claim her meager estate. Unfortunately, since
The Secret Garden
had been stolen from Edward, she wasn’t entitled to the book. But she was happy to take over running Vera’s beloved flower shop.

I was shocked—pleasantly so—to hear that Edward Strathmore had decided to donate
The Secret Garden
to the Covington Library’s children’s collection. Ian explained that Edward felt so guilty about Vera being killed by his housekeeper—his own sister!—as well as me being attacked by his horrible nephews, all over a “silly” book, that he no longer wanted to have it in his house.

He must’ve been carrying around a whole boatload of guilt if he’d been so willing to give up that exquisite book with the added bonus of Mae West’s signature on it.

I found out from Inspector Lee that more than ten years ago, Edward had bailed Lug Nut and Grizzly out of jail and paid some big bucks for their legal defense. In return, Mrs. Sweet had agreed—or been coerced, more likely—to become his housekeeper. Essentially, she’d signed on as an indentured servant in exchange for her sons’ freedom. It was Edward’s way of keeping her and her violent boys under his thumb. So much for brotherly love.

The inspector also revealed that Mrs. Sweet’s second husband was Mr. Sweet, so her name had come to her honestly. Still, it was quite possibly the most ill-suited name I’d ever heard.

The dust had settled on the case, and it seemed like a good time to pay Alex back for everything she’d done for me. She had taught me those defensive moves that had probably saved my life and she’d loaned me that beautiful dress which, it turned out, was indeed easily repaired by her tailor.

So one Saturday night, Derek and I invited Alex over for dinner. Derek was pouring champagne for the three of us when the phone rang.

“Should we answer it?” I asked.

“It might be important,” he said apologetically.

I saw Ian’s name on the screen and grabbed it. “Hi.”

“Hey, I’ve got news,” Ian said.

“What is it?”

“Did you hear about Minka?”

“Oh no. What has she done now?”

“She’s moved.”

I frowned at the phone and pressed the speaker button so Derek and Alex could hear, as well. “So where did Minka move? County jail?” I cringed in fear that Ian might tell me she was moving into our apartment building.

“No, you probably heard that the charges against her were dropped,” he said. “But after what she did on the show, she couldn’t find a job. And then, all of a sudden, she got a phone call and was hired within days.”

I almost hated to ask. “So where’s she going?”

“To the National Library of Kosovo.”

“Kosovo,” I mumbled. “As in Eastern Europe? The Balkans?
That
Kosovo?”

“Yes, that one,” he said, chuckling. “It’s much safer than it was a few years ago. They’ve built a fabulous new library in the capital,
and Minka starts working there next week as the head archivist. I gave her a glowing recommendation.”

I stared dumbfounded at the phone, then looked at Derek. He shook his head, equally mystified. I happened to glance at Alex, who was gazing innocently at the ceiling as she sipped her champagne. The kitten pounced on her foot and Alex smiled, set down her wine, and reached for the tiny bundle. It reminded me that Derek and I still hadn’t come up with a name for the little fuzz ball.

“Thanks for the great news, Ian,” I said distractedly. “Talk to you soon.”

I hung up, still confused. It took me a moment to fathom the truth, but finally I said, “Alex? Weren’t you assigned to Kosovo once upon a time?”

“Who, me?”

“Is there something you want to tell us?” Derek asked.

“You did this,” I murmured.

She glanced from the kitten to me and fluttered her eyelashes. “Whatever are you talking about?”

I looked at Derek and whispered, “Her powers are awesome.”

He nodded. “Truly awesome.”

“Not really.” Alex sighed and set the kitten down on the floor. “After the party, I couldn’t sleep for several nights and it had nothing to do with catching a killer. It was all because of that horrible Minka and those nasty things she said about you.” Alex shivered slightly and rubbed her arms. Her eyes narrowed down to pinpoints and her lips flattened in fury. “Nobody talks about my friend that way. She had to go. I knew I couldn’t have her killed, so I did the next best thing. I hope you don’t mind.”

Derek and I stared at each other and began to laugh.

“Are you laughing with me or at me?” she asked, cautiously glancing from one of us to the other.

We both reached for her and enveloped her in a group hug.

“With you,” I said. “Even though you terrify me.”

“Me, too,” Derek admitted, and grabbed the champagne bottle to fill our glasses.

I picked up the kitten. “To celebrate, let’s name this little girl tonight.”

Alex smiled. “You could always name her Cupcake.”

“I love cupcakes.” I nuzzled the kitten’s soft neck.

“I still like Charlemagne,” Derek said. “Charlie for short.”

“I do like Charlie,” I admitted, “but what’s the attraction to Charlemagne?”

He hesitated, twirled his wineglass, refusing to meet my questioning gaze. “It’s silly, I suppose, but I had a dog when I was young. Ugly little thing. Runt of the litter. He wasn’t expected to live, frankly, so we got him for free. I was studying the Western emperors at school, and I thought if the pup were given the name of one of the greatest rulers in history, he might find within himself the will to live. So I called him Charlemagne. He grew up to live a good, long life.” He glanced at me and smiled. “But that’s a ridiculous reason. Forget it.”

“No, it’s sweet,” I said, melting a little.

Derek took the furry creature from me and held her in his big hands. There was something overwhelmingly attractive about a strong man cuddling a tiny kitten.

I smiled up at him. “Let’s call her Charlie. Charlie
Cupcake.”

Author’s Note

This story is a work of fiction except for a few historical details. Both the actress Mae West and the author Frances Hodgson Burnett were real people. Both lived in or near New York City from 1911 to 1912. Mae West first began performing on Broadway in 1911. Frances Hodgson Burnett published
The Secret Garden
in 1911, and her
Little Lord Fauntleroy
had long been a popular Broadway play, as well as a novel. Many of the details about Mae and Frances are based on research, but my suggestion that the two women met and exchanged books and/or memorabilia is purely a product of my
imagination.