The Lies That Bind (28 page)

And even if she was older than we thought, why would Alice kill Layla?

“What’s her motive?” I asked. “She just started working at BABA a month ago. Layla was so nice to her, it was spooky. She was almost maternal toward her. I never saw any animosity between them.”

“Perhaps Alice was holding something over Layla’s head,” Derek said.

“Blackmail?” I said. “So Layla had to be nice or Alice would reveal something? It’s outlandish.”

“Don’t forget Gabriel,” Robin said. “What could she possibly have against him?”

“Maybe we should ask Gabriel,” Derek said, staring out the window at the moon cresting over the Bay Bridge.

“Maybe.” I rubbed my temple where a headache was starting to throb. The idea that Alice could be a cold-blooded killer was hurting my head. I glanced at Derek. “You’re playing devil’s advocate and I appreciate that, but you don’t know this girl. She’s sweet and thoughtful. Sensitive. I just can’t see her in the role of killer.”

“Remember Ted Bundy,” Derek said ominously.

“Oh, come on.”

“He was a very attractive man, by all accounts,” Vinnie said with a nod to Derek.

“And charming,” Robin added.

Vinnie turned toward me. “I am sorry, Brooklyn. It can’t be pleasant to realize you’ve been fooled by someone you believed to be a friend. But you must admit it is possible. Someone is killing these people. We must consider all possibilities.”

“Yes, of course, I know you’re right.” I stared at the names on the legal pad. “But in the interest of considering all the possibilities, I’d like to reassess Naomi. She had much more to gain than anyone else, both monetarily and professionally. Or there’s Cynthia Hardesty. She hated Layla.”

“But what are their connections to Gabriel?” Derek interjected. “Neither of those women were anywhere near Dharma on Saturday.”

“I know, I know. I’m grasping at straws.” I stared up at him and grasped at one more straw. “It’s still possible that Gabriel isn’t connected to the other attacks.”

“But, darling,” he said gently. “If our killer is Alice, they’re all connected.”

“But how in the world is Alice connected to Gabriel? And what about Mr. Soo?”

“I can’t answer those questions yet,” he said. “But we’ll start with the fact that she was in Dharma when Gabriel was shot. And she might’ve known Mr. Soo through Layla.”

“Gabriel was shot while she was at the spa,” I countered.

“According to whom?”

I had to think. Alice and my sister Savannah had come running shortly after Gabriel was rolled into the ambulance. The timing seemed off. But I could ask Savannah if she’d been with Alice the entire time. I didn’t want to interrupt the conversation so I made a mental note to call my sister tomorrow.

“Oh, hey,” Robin said brightly. “Maybe Layla was having an affair with Gabriel, and Alice was—”

“Stop right there,” I said, thoroughly disturbed by the image. “If I hear that another man I know was having a sleazy affair with Layla, I’m going to join a damn nunnery in Tibet.”

My friends laughed while Derek coughed discreetly. Then he laid his hand on my shoulder. “Brooklyn, how well do you know Gabriel and Alice?”

Troubled, I sat back and considered the question. I’d made light of it in the past, but it was clear to me that Gabriel was a thief, pure and simple. High-end, gorgeous, heroic, and sophisticated, but a thief nonetheless. So why had he sought sanctuary with Guru Bob? Who was after him? I knew Guru Bob trusted him and I’d bet my father did, too. And I trusted Guru Bob and Dad. I needed to think about Gabriel awhile longer before I divulged his secrets.

Alice was a different story. If she’d been playing me all this time, I would have no problem throwing her to the wolves.

“All I know for sure about Alice is that she came to BABA through Layla.”

“That’s suspicious right there,” Robin said dryly.

“True,” I admitted, then stood up to pace the length of the couch and back. I could think better on my feet. I told them everything I thought I knew about Alice, some of which I’d already told Derek. The Catholic boarding school, the stomach problems, the conference where she and Layla first met. “Oh, and she’s engaged to a guy named Stuart,” I added.

“Stuart? Who would make up a name like that?” Suzie asked, mystified.

Our chuckles broke the tension.

“According to Layla,” I added, “Alice’s background is in arts fund-raising.”

“Art and money,” Vinnie said sagely. “For a wily thief with a clever cover story, it is the perfect world to infiltrate.”

I sighed. “Okay, Gabriel’s drawn to that world, too, so I’m willing to acknowledge a connection between him and Alice is not impossible. But it’s highly improbable.”

“But why would she shoot him?” Robin said. “That’s so disturbing.”

“Perhaps Gabriel recognized her,” Derek said. “Or more likely, Alice saw him first, recognized him, and knew she had to get rid of him before he saw her and blew her cover.”

“To protect her band of thieves,” Suzie murmured, and her eyes widened in amazement. “It’s just like
Oliver Twist
. Far out.”

“Oh, my God,” I said. “Layla was Fagin.”

“But Alice is Sikes,” Suzie said, wagging her finger at me. “Talk about a psychopath.”

I shivered. Bill Sikes was the personification of evil in the story of
Oliver Twist
.

“It’s all speculation,” I said halfheartedly.

“Oh!” Vinnie wiggled with excitement. “This reminds me of an old episode of
White Collar
with a similar plot. The bad guys dealt in Asian antiquities, but rare books would work just as well. So, Alice wants to take over Layla’s territory and Mr. Soo was Layla’s middleman. Alice had to dispose of them both in order to move her own people into place. The center where Brooklyn teaches classes was similar to the private museum depicted in
White Collar
. Both provide the perfect front for nefarious activities.”

Suzie gazed fondly at Vinnie. I caught Robin’s eye and we both smiled. Vinnie was in love with American television and pop culture.

“I guess anything’s possible,” I conceded finally, and turned to Derek. “So what do we do now?”

 

“This is Derek Stone, everybody,” I announced the following night at the start of the makeup class. “He’s my ride home.”

“Nice ride,” Whitney whispered.

I had to agree. “He’s going to hang out and see what we do here. Hope nobody minds.”

“Fine with me,” Gina said, her voice suddenly sultry. She exchanged glances with Whitney, who dipped under the table, pretending to fiddle with her purse. When she surfaced, she wore pert red cheeks and fresh lipstick.

Similar behavior was repeated by many of the women around the table.

“How you doin’?” Mitchell said, bobbing his head in acknowledgment of Derek.

“I’m well, thanks,” Derek murmured. “You?”

Mitchell grunted, thus giving his male seal of approval to Derek’s intrusion into his domain. That was it. The male ritual dance was concluded.

I stole a glance at Alice, who stared at me meaningfully, then wiggled her eyebrows and winked. I returned her smile, praying I was acting as natural with her as I had in the past. I felt like a complete impostor.

We’d stayed up late the night before to work out our plan of attack. Derek was to wander around my class and occasionally pretend to check his e-mail while he actually took pictures of my students. Then we’d show the photos to Gabriel to see if he recognized anyone.

Since Robin had indulged in several glasses of wine, Derek had insisted she spend the night, and he’d driven back to his hotel. As far as Derek and me getting together went, I was beginning to feel like the punch line of a bad joke.

Tonight, as my students completed their second journal book, I threw in a lesson on how to mix PVA glue with certain powders and pastes to achieve different textures and results.

“The thinner the PVA,” I explained, “the more useful it is for restoration work, patching delicate tears and securing frayed threads.”

Thickening was another story. I showed them what happened to the glue when wheat paste was added to the mix. Then a different result occurred when methyl cellulose was used. Essentially, the addition of another compound tended to slow down the drying process, allowing the bookbinder to manipulate the textblock or pastedowns as desired.

“Methyl cellulose can also be used to thicken the water bath when marbling paper.” I held up a small bag of the compound. “It’s important to always check the pH balance of any solution to determine its effect on the paper you’re applying it to.”

At that moment, I noticed the blank look on Mitchell’s face and knew I’d given the class more than enough information.

“Okay, I’ve said too much.”

Everyone laughed and I suggested we all take a break.

During the dinner break, Derek ran to the corner café and brought back lattes and a panini to share.

When he walked back in with Inspector Lee, I tried my darnedest to appear serene and normal instead of showing how stunned I was to see her. I guess that was a mistake.

“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 annoying that everyone I knew could tell when I was lying.

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 gonna reveal that just yet.” She turned and strolled around the room, pausing at the large brass book press. She grabbed the handle and turned the screw an inch. “You’ve got some cool shit in here.”

“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 running into the room after the break and grabbed my arms. “You’ll never guess.”

“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 innocent.”

“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 dinner and everyone got back to work. Derek made a show of circling the room and feigning interest in each student’s progress. He talked quietly to almost everyone, asking questions and voicing encouragement. When he was finished, he leaned against the front counter and checked his e-mail. The women in the room, including me, stole furtive glances his way at every opportunity.

A sociologist would have a field day here, observing female behavior as a new alpha male was introduced into the group.