The Book Stops Here (36 page)

I laughed. “Yes. But still, this is crazy. I don’t know how to react to all this.”

“Not to contradict a former first lady, but
just say yes
.”

“Oh, hell.”

“Resistance is futile,” she said in an alien voice.

“Okay, fine. Yes, I’m taking everything, but only because you insist and because I’m weak. And because you’ll get everything back tomorrow. Except I’ll dry clean the dress first.”

“That’s a deal.” She folded everything in tissue and tucked it all, except for the hanging dress, into a big shopping bag.

At the door, I gave her a hug. “I’m pitifully grateful that you kept me out of the shopping mall.”

“It was my pleasure. But I warn you: payback is a bitch.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“One of these days, you and I are going to hit Nordstrom together.”

“If that’s a threat, it’s just plain mean.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, patting my shoulder. “We’ll have fun and reward ourselves with cocktails afterward.”

“Ah. Okay.” I nodded. “Sign me up for that.”

•   •   •

D
erek loved the dress. A lot. It was black and short and slinky and yet simple and elegant. He liked it so much that he made a very strong case for my taking it off and the two of us missing Edward’s party altogether.

I was delighted and vowed to buy pretty dresses more often.

In the end, though, we soldiered up, grabbed Alex, and drove off to Belvedere. As the three of us approached the entryway to Edward’s home, a tuxedoed server opened the door.

“Right this way,” he murmured, and escorted us over to a small elevator I hadn’t noticed before. We descended to the bottom floor, and when the elevator opened we all gazed out at the massive space before us.

“Who has a ballroom in their house?” I wondered.

“Good question,” Derek murmured.

Even here in the spacious ballroom, Mae West reigned supreme. Her movie posters filled the walls and a screen behind the bar was showing one of her films, minus the sound.

There was a good-sized orchestra and a dance floor at the far end of the room. On the opposite end, six serving stations offered various types of cuisines. Two long tables were piled with bite-sized fruits and veggies and cheeses, plus dips. For those who preferred to eat dessert first, two large-sized chocolate fountains were surrounded by all sorts of goodies for dipping.

“I love a good chocolate fountain.”

“Who doesn’t?” Derek remarked.

There was an open bar on either side of the room along with waiters circulating with champagne flutes. Derek handed each of us a glass and took one for himself.

I recognized a number of friends from the television studio already out on the dance floor. Angie and Randolph were slow dancing to the upbeat tune and seemed to be oblivious to the rest of the world. Other guests stood on the sidelines, making conversation and nibbling on chocolate-drenched angel food cake chunks. A few of Edward’s movers and shakers were probably negotiating and closing deals at this very moment.

Alex seemed to know all of their names and many of their little secrets, which she was more than happy to share with us as we stood on the sidelines with our champagne.

The room was filled to capacity, but not uncomfortably so. The balcony doors were open and guests wandered in and out. More waiters made the rounds, offering hors d’oeuvres and drinks. Raucous laughter and sly whispers blended with the big-band sound.

Even though many were dressed in black, because the cool people always dressed in black, it was a colorful scene with
glowing tans and glittering jewels everywhere. The snatches of conversation were equally colorful.

Alex wore a silver sequined and beaded, formfitting creation with strategic cutouts that managed to be both revealing and demure. She was gorgeous, of course, and many of the men looked our way as soon as she walked into the room. I thought she would go off to mingle, but she seemed content to chat with me and Derek.

“If you want to go off and talk to other people,” I whispered loudly in her ear, “don’t worry about us. I saw all those men looking your way when we walked in.”

“They were looking at you, Brooklyn,” she said.

I laughed at her comment and flagged a passing waiter. His tray held little pancakes rolled up and stuffed with bits of grilled lobster and a light sauce. I hummed in pleasure as one slid down my throat.

From another waiter I took a prosciutto-wrapped melon to cleanse my palate, then wasn’t sure what to do with the long plastic toothpick and napkin, so I shoved them into my purse. You’d think I didn’t get out much.

Yet another server offered tiny quesadillas stuffed with champagne grapes and melted Brie. I grabbed a quesadilla and popped it into my mouth. “Oh, my goodness. I love this party.”

I gazed around, watching all the different people and trying to guess what their stories were.

A waiter jostled one woman’s arm as he passed her. She winked at him.

Three women nearby burst into laughter. The man standing with them scowled and slugged down half the contents of his highball glass.

Another man was dressed in a foppish white shirt that billowed out from beneath a tight black velvet vest. He was alone at the moment and I could see why. He resembled some sort of
Charles Dickens villain, complete with bad posture and little rodent teeth.

Alex explained that he was a local bigwig for one of the political parties. She wouldn’t mention which one.

Everyone was having a great time enjoying Edward’s eccentric furnishings, delicious food, and excellent band. But where was Edward? I hadn’t seen him since we’d arrived, but he had to be here somewhere.

I was debating whether to embarrass myself out on the dance floor when part of the crowd shifted and Edward appeared a few yards away. Looking thin and elegant in a vintage tuxedo, he greeted guests with kisses on the cheek or hearty handshakes. When he reached me, he gave a slight bow. “Brooklyn, dear, how wonderful to see you again.”

“Edward, thank you so much for inviting us.”

I introduced him to Derek and Alex. He shook Derek’s hand, then took both of Alex’s hands in his. “Oh, I know this remarkable young lady. How are you, my dear?”

“Fine, Edward,” she said. “Wonderful party.”

“We have our fun,” he said demurely.

A sudden buzz arose near the entryway and spread instantly throughout the room. Edward looked toward the door and gasped. I whirled around to try to see who had just walked in.

“Oh. My. God.” I held my hand over my mouth in complete shock. It was horrifying. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. It was like viewing a bad accident on the freeway. To ease my distress, I swigged the rest of my champagne in one long gulp.

“Do you think it’s a joke?” Alex whispered. “Who is that?”

I couldn’t form the words to answer her, but it was no joke. It was Minka, fully transformed into Mae West.

Minka’s hair was platinum blond now, a large, curly ball of fluff with spit curls plastered all over her glistening forehead.

Her lips were painted siren red, not the best color for someone
whose lipstick always seemed to migrate to her teeth and whose smile resembled a demented prairie dog’s.

The white halter-top gown she wore was a blindingly shiny polyester blend that looked as if it had been glued—badly, with rubber cement—to her more than ample body. The clingy material showed off every one of her flaws—and they were countless—and threatened to rip apart at the seams any minute now. In fact, the dress was already beginning to shred along the back seam at her butt. I took a step backward because when that thing blew, it was not going to be pretty.

Not to change the subject, but it was a darn shame that she wasn’t still in jail. Too bad the studio and the book owners had decided not to press charges.

The same couldn’t be said for Garth, or, rather, Gerald, thank goodness. Having attempted to murder Randolph—and me!—on more than a few occasions, he would be staying in prison for quite a while. And I intended to make sure of it.

But meanwhile, I was watching Edward, who tittered with glee and lightly clapped his hands together with every bump and grind Minka tried to pull off. It was terrifying to watch her and Edward’s slavering adulation just made it that much worse.

“Don’t go anywhere, my dear!” Edward cried out over the music, and skittered across the dance floor to speak with the big-band leader. With one sweeping wave of his hand, the man stopped the music.

Edward rushed back to Minka, took her hand, and kissed it. For a long moment, he gazed into her eyes with something resembling adoration.

“Hello, sweet lady,” he crooned.

“Hello, big boy,” Minka said in an abysmal attempt to imitate Mae West. She placed her hand provocatively on her hip and wiggled around a bit. “Why doncha come up and see me sometime?”

I glanced up at Derek in time to see him grimace in pain. I knew how he felt. She had misquoted Mae West slightly, but that
wasn’t what pained him. No, it was Minka’s nasally, high-pitched voice that hit us both like nails scratched on a blackboard.

I was reminded of Vinnie flirting with Suzie in her Mae West voice. She had been funny and charming, while Minka was just icky and awkward.

Edward turned and gave another grand signal to the orchestra leader, who instantly cued the band to begin their own special rendition of “Brick House.”

No! No, no, no. This was so wrong. I could hear Derek trying to suppress his laughter.

Edward urged Minka gently toward the dance floor and they began to move to the music. It was awkward, because Minka could barely walk in that getup, let alone dance.

But now it all clicked into place. Edward Strathmore was grooming Minka LaBoeuf to be his very own real-life Mae West. The man was more than a little twisted, but that’s what happened when you had so much money, you could buy—

“Oh!” I struggled for breath, understanding in that instant what I’d missed the last time I was here. I’d known something was wrong at the time. I just hadn’t known what it was.

I glanced around. I would need to double-check one thing before I could do anything about it.

With every eye on Minka and Edward, including Derek’s and Alex’s, I was able to slip away to the elevator. I pressed the button for the top floor and made my way back down the wide hall to Edward’s private library. When I reached the door, I glanced around to be sure I wasn’t being followed. Then I tried the door handle but it was locked.

Darn!
I felt along the top ledge of the doorjamb, but no key was hiding there. I lifted the edge of the beautiful oriental carpet runner to check, but again no key.

Derek had once shown me how to pick a lock, but I had nothing to use as a pick.

Yes, I did! My prosciutto-melon toothpick. I pulled out the plastic toothpick and wiped it with the wadded napkin a few times, just to be sure it was clean enough. Then I slid it into the lock.

I twisted and turned it and tried to spin it. The plastic bent back and forth and I knew this wasn’t going to work. Someday I would insist on another breaking-and-entering lesson from Derek and perhaps a little pouch with my very own burglar’s tools—which I’m sure he would love to give me. But for now I wondered if maybe I could find the actual key in Edward’s bedroom or his office. I didn’t want to leave here without confirming what I’d seen before.

I turned and almost collided into Edward.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked, dangling a key in front of my eyes.

“Oh, Edward, what perfect timing.” It was an effort to hide how badly startled I was to find him there. “I was just coming down to get you. I wanted to take another look at your collection of Cosway bindings one more time, but I didn’t want to disturb you while you were entertaining. But since the door was locked, I was on my way to find you and, well. Here you are.”

I was babbling.

“Yes, here I am,” he said smoothly. “I saw you leave the ballroom and I had a feeling where I might find you.” He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

Crap,
I thought.
Another confrontation with a lunatic.
My head was still pounding from last night’s adventures with Garth/Gerald.

“Oh!” I squealed with ultrafake enthusiasm as I sprinted over to the glass-in display of Cosway bindings. “I can’t get enough of these lovely books.”

“I should warn you,” he said as he followed at a more sedate pace. “We had an unfortunate incident occur two nights ago. A man tried to break into the house and I had to shoot him.”

I glanced at him, feigning horror. “That must’ve been terrible for you.”

“Yes, and for him. He was going to steal from me and now he’s dead.”

I tried to react calmly, but how could I? He wasn’t quite the eccentric charmer I’d met the other day. Did he think I was here to steal something?

“Ah!” I cried. “And here are the Frances Hodgson Burnett beauties.” I stared at the trio of books one more time. “Stunning.” They really were, but I could barely see them. My mind was racing through various scenarios of how I might get out of here gracefully.

“You didn’t really come here to see these, did you, Brooklyn?”

“Why, Edward.”
Stay calm,
I told myself. “Who wouldn’t want to see these beautiful images again?”

He laughed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He was right. I was an incredibly bad liar. But that didn’t mean I was going to confess anything to him.

“The last time you were here,” he said, “I neglected to show you the portrait I had commissioned. Let me give you a private viewing.”

He pulled a cord and the velvet curtain parted, revealing the portrait of himself with Mae West.

“She was so lovely,” he murmured. “So smart. So filled with life and vigor.”

“That is remarkable,” I said.

“But you’ve seen it before, of course.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t be coy, my dear. I’m talking about the security cameras I have in every room in the house.” He pointed up at one corner of the room, where I could see a small hole in the wood grain. “When I left you alone in the library the other day, you peeked.”