The Book Stops Here (15 page)

“So now they’re working their asses off to find the guy. They went back to the TV studio to retrace your attacker’s movements and had a long talk with the security guard who got beat up.”

“They talked to Benny?”

“Yeah, Benny. So the day of the attack, Benny was too addled to think of it, but today he told them that there are security cameras everywhere. They’re on all the studio doors and at the entry gate.”

“Holy cow. That’s great.”

“Yeah,” Inspector Lee said. “So we got hold of the tapes and your guy is all over it. There’s video of him walking through the
gate, grabbing you, punching Benny, running out. We’re putting a group of photos together and sending them out to all the news outlets. With any luck, we should have him ID’d by the weekend.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, letting go of the breath I’d been holding. “I’m so relieved.”

“Yeah, we got a break.”

I rested my elbows on the desk surface and sighed in relief. “Thank you so much for calling to let me know.”

“Figured you deserved to hear the news since you have a stake in all this.”

In other words, I was still in danger as long as Horatio was free to walk around the city. I rubbed my arms to ward off a sudden chill. “Do me a favor and find him fast, please.”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” she said with a snicker. I shook my head as I ended the call.

Chapter Nine

Derek and I arrived home at ten o’clock that night, both of us dead tired. As we stepped out of the elevator, I noticed right away that our new neighbor’s door was ajar. A sharp chill shot up my spine and my mind immediately leaped to the worst-case scenario. Had Alex been burgled? Was she lying in her apartment, hurt? Dead? I was halfway down the hall and ready to shout out her name when I recalled her invitation.

“Cupcakes,” I said, as relief poured through me. “How could I forget?”

“Beg your pardon, love?” Derek said as he slid the key into our lock.

“Cupcakes. Alex invited me over for cupcakes tonight. That must be why her door is open.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, go and enjoy. I have a conference call with the Tokyo office in ten minutes, so perhaps you’ll ask her to take pity on me and send you home with an extra treat.”

“I’m sure she will.” I followed him into the house and unloaded my computer and purse inside the door. Shoving my keys in my pocket, I reached up and gave Derek a kiss. “Back soon.”

I was so tired that for a moment I thought I might have to beg
for another rain check, but that moment of panic on seeing her open door had given me a quick blast of energy. I was wide awake and ready for conversation and cupcakes.

I nudged her door open farther, and breathed in the sugary, delectable aroma of freshly baked yummies. Oh, mercy. It smelled like my version of heaven.

I knocked lightly on the door and called out, “Hello? Alex? Something smells wonderful.”

With a happy smile, I strolled into her apartment—and skidded to a halt. Sitting alone on the elegant living room sofa was a very handsome man. He looked tall, with blond hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders.

And he was naked. Completely and utterly naked, except for a colorful wide strip of blue painter’s tape across his mouth.

And from the way he was sitting, it looked like his hands were bound behind his back.

“Are you all right?” I whispered.

He nodded.

At least he can breathe,
I thought. Painter’s tape, like masking tape, was paper-based and porous, unlike duct tape. I knew this because I worked with paper and tape, but how ridiculous was it to have that thought at a time like this?

My heart rate zipped up and I swallowed nervously. I took a quick glance around, but didn’t see Alex. Was my new neighbor in danger? I was about to race out and call the cops when the naked man winked at me.

I didn’t imagine it. The guy winked at me.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked again.

He wiggled his eyebrows at me and I could plainly see that his eyes were twinkling with humor. I couldn’t see his mouth because of the painter’s tape, but I was pretty sure he was wearing a grin. And not much else, as I already mentioned.

He seemed friendly enough, despite the bizarre situation.

“So . . . you’re all right,” I said lamely.

He nodded slowly, then shifted slightly so I could see that he was wearing handcuffs. He gave me a little thumbs-up sign and winked again.

“And Alex is okay?” I asked, glancing around.

This time he nodded eagerly, his head bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.

Wow. Okay. Clearly, I was interrupting something. Cupcakes were a distant memory as I raised my hand and returned a weak little wave. Then I tiptoed out the door and closed it behind me.

•   •   •

T
hirty minutes later, there was a knock at my front door. I was almost afraid to answer it, but Derek was still on the phone with his Tokyo partners, so I soldiered up and headed down the hall, back to my workshop where our front door was located. I checked the peephole and swung the door open.

It was Alex, wearing skinny jeans, a tunic-length black sweater, and orange sneakers. She was holding a pretty, three-tiered tray filled with the most amazing-looking cupcakes I’d ever seen. The frosting was piled high and looked so fluffy and moist, it almost sparkled. She must have used a pastry bag to heap on the frosting in such dramatic swirls and curls, just like a professional baker would. I did a quick calculation. There were twelve cupcakes in three different colors: pretty pink, lemony yellow, and chocolaty chocolate.

“Brooklyn,” she began. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come in,” I said, opening the door even wider. She was, after all, bearing gifts.

As she walked in, she apologized again. “Can you forgive me? I left the door open for you, but I was in my bedroom, changing out of my work clothes, and I didn’t hear you knock. Jason told me you walked in and saw him and . . . well. This is awkward.”

She was right about that. “No need to explain.” Then, pointing to the tiered tray, I added, “Can I help you carry that?”

“It’s just that he was supposed to arrive later, after you were gone. But since he was already there, well. I guess I should explain.” She laughed nervously. “It’s a little role-playing game we like to indulge in. I’m the Black Ops interrogator and he’s the—”

“Stop!” I laughed. “Alex, please. You don’t have to explain.”
Just give me the cupcakes and all will be forgiven
. I didn’t say that to her, of course, but I was thinking it. Many of the world’s problems would be solved if people would just shut up and pass the cupcakes.

I saved her the trouble of having to decide what to do next and took the tray from her. “Come on in.” She followed me into the kitchen, where I set down the tray and grabbed a half-filled bottle of Cabernet to show her. “It’s an awfully good wine. Would you like a glass?”

“Yes, please, and you’re so sweet to brush off what happened.” She wrung her hands together. “But I know it must’ve been a shock to walk in and see . . .”

“A naked man, bound and gagged?” I said, when her voice faded. “Sitting on your couch as if he’d come to tea? Yes, I admit it was a bit of a shock. But he looked pleasant enough. I was going to call the police, but then he winked at me. That’s when I decided to leave. I figured if he was winking at me, he probably wasn’t in any danger. And, more important, you weren’t in danger, either. Were you?”

“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “If anything, Jason’s the one in danger. He showed up early and will have to be punished at some point.”

“Eek!” I instantly held up my hands. “Stop. Please. You really don’t need to explain.”

“I’m sorry!” She buried her face in her hands and I was afraid she was going to burst into tears. Instead she started to giggle. She really didn’t seem like the giggling type and neither was I, most of the time. But the sound of that giggle, and the fact that her cheeks were now bright pink with embarrassment, were enough to make me smile.

After a few long seconds, I gave up pretending that the situation was normal. “Okay, it was weird.”

“Of course it was,” she said, and gestured toward the cupcake tray. “I’m not going to apologize again, but, luckily, I have brought a peace offering.”

“Accepted.”

I checked to see if Derek was still on his conference call. He signaled that he would be a while longer, so Alex and I sat down at the kitchen bar with glasses of wine and the twelve cupcakes. I chose a pink one first because they were so pretty.

I took a bite and closed my eyes. “Oh.”

She frowned. “Is it okay?”

“Oh.” I nodded, but couldn’t seem to form words, just kept repeating, “Oh. Oh.”

With a satisfied smile, she said, “They’re good, aren’t they?”

“Oh yeah.” I took another bite. The icing was just as fluffy and moist as it looked, and it tasted even better than that. It wasn’t the usual buttercream frosting I was used to. It was incredibly soft and sweet without being cloying. “Better than good.”

How did she do it? Was it something you could learn or did you have to be born with that ability? I was pretty sure that baking was harder than cooking. Although I could barely cook, I was still willing to learn how to bake if there was a chance that one day I might produce something this transcendentally scrumptious.

“This cupcake actually tastes pink,” I whispered. “How do you do that?”

“I’ve been experimenting with reducing pink lemonade down to its essence. It seems to work.”

“And how do you get the frosting so fluffy?”

“I make my own simple syrup instead of using commercial corn syrup. It makes everything lighter and fluffier.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you are a genius.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Alex chose a lemon cupcake while I continued to savor my pink one. She asked me how the television show was going and I told her about the books I’d appraised so far. I left out the part where I’d been attacked two days in a row. Instead I chatted on about the books and she seemed interested. At least her eyes didn’t glaze over, so I considered that a real win.

“I love books,” she said.

“I do, too.”

“I mean, I love to read. I don’t know anything about bookbinding, but it sounds fascinating. You actually take books apart and put them back together in better shape than they were before?”

“That’s the goal.”

“It sounds like such rewarding work.”

“It is,” I said. “I love it.”

She told me briefly about the company she ran, a successful brokerage firm in the financial district.

“It’s your own company?” I asked, as I stared at the tray of cupcakes. How could I possibly eat a second one?

I could have just a bite and save the rest for later. Happy with my decision, I reached for a chocolate one.

“Yes,” she said, and took a sip of wine. “I started it with a guy I used to work with at another firm. We’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

Her statement was modest, but I had a feeling she was underplaying it. I’d seen the way she was dressed the other night and the way she carried herself in general. Anyone could tell that Alex was a successful, high-powered businesswoman and probably worth millions. She would be the alpha dog in any relationship.

Her submissive friend Jason would probably agree.

Meanwhile, I was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation after taking a bite of the cupcake. I considered myself a chocolate aficionado, but nothing I’d ever tasted could come close to this flavor.

“I work really hard,” Alex was saying, and I had to focus to hear her words above the buzzing in my ears. When was the last time chocolate had caused me to temporarily lose my hearing? I swallowed the bite and the buzzing decreased.

“I don’t have a lot of friends,” she said, “except my work-related associates. All they ever want to do is talk shop, so when I come home at night, I want to shut out the world and relax, bake something, or just read. I feel the same way about dating. I don’t like to go out with the domineering alpha types. I much prefer men like Jason, who’s sweet and submissive and—”

I raised my eyebrows and she held up both hands in retreat. “That’s all I’m saying on the subject. My point is, I don’t have many girlfriends.”

“My friends are mostly work-related, too,” I said, and tried to ignore the image of Jason in handcuffs. He had looked happy. To each his own, I supposed. Where was I? Right. Girlfriends. I took a quick sip of wine and continued. “My best friend, Robin, used to live in the city, but she moved to Dharma last year and lives with my brother Austin. And my sisters are my friends.”

“That’s nice,” Alex said wistfully. “I don’t have any sisters.”

“I have three, but they all live up in the wine country.”

“I could be your friend,” she said, then cringed. “That sounds so pathetic. But I’d like to be friends—unless what happened earlier has completely soured you to the possibility.”

Rather than dive back into that odd little quagmire, I waved it aside with a smile. “I would love to be friends.”

“Good.”

I couldn’t imagine Derek ever having this conversation with another man. It was definitely a girl thing. But having made our decision to be friends, Alex and I were able to relax a little. After a sip of wine, I asked, “How does someone so busy have time to bake such artistic cupcakes?”

“It’s just something I’m good at,” she admitted. “My job is so
frenetic sometimes that I enjoy coming home and baking. Especially cupcakes, because they’re so small and cheerful and fun. Plus, you make a dozen at a time, so if you make a mistake frosting one, you have eleven chances to fix it.”

“Good point.”

“And if you’re fond of frosting, like I am, you’ve probably already noticed that the frosting-to-cake ratio on cupcakes is truly outstanding.”

“No wonder I love them so much,” I said. “And I’m impressed by your use of mathematical formulas when making desserts. You really are smart.”

She laughed, then asked me about my family. I told her about Dharma and my parents and my brothers and sisters.