The Lies That Bind (19 page)

“Hey, Minka,” I said jovially, like a complete fraud. “How’s your head feeling?”

She whipped around and her mouth gaped. Not a pretty sight. I would never eat guacamole again.

Her upper lip twisted in a snarl. “You’re joking, right? Am I supposed to believe you care?”

Today, in honor of the dearly departed, she wore her favorite clothing mash-up: pleather, spandex, and animal prints. Her pants were black and brown cougar spots and her short shiny jacket was a bold zebra print. But the most disturbing part of her outfit was what it didn’t cover up. Two wide inches of pale belly fat were exposed between the jacket and the pants.

“Of course I care,” I said, swallowing my distaste. “I saved your life, remember?”

“No, you didn’t. You’re so full of shit.”

What could I say? She was right. “But I just hate the idea that anyone might be attacked here at BABA. And then poor Layla was killed two days later. I mean, don’t you think that’s scary? That could’ve been you.”

“Whatever.” She glanced at Karalee and rolled her eyes.

“I’ve got to go,” Karalee said quickly, and tried to break away.

“No,” I said, jerking her back to my side. I exhaled from the exertion. “So, Minka, here’s what I was wondering about the other night. Do you remember hearing anything right before you were hit? Like heavy footsteps, maybe. Or somebody humming or whistling. Were there any sounds coming from any of the offices?”

Did I sound as big an idiot as I felt? Probably.

She wrinkled her nose. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t hear anything besides the usual crap-ass chamber music coming from Layla’s office.”

Crap-ass?
Layla had played pretty classical music. Figures Minka would hate that.

“What about odors?” I persisted. “Do you remember smelling anything unusual? You know, like perfume? Men’s cologne? Minty fresh breath? Sweat, maybe? Garlic?”

“God, you’re so bizarre.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” I said.

“That’s a go-fuck-yourself.”

“Minka, that’s rude,” Karalee said.

“Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”

I gave up on the niceties. “What the hell were you doing in the hall, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be teaching a class?”

“Screw you,” she said with a sneer. “I’ve had it with the third degree. I might owe you my life, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with your crap.”

“Look, I just—”

She flipped me the finger and stomped off.

So, maybe it was a little bizarre, asking her about sounds and odors. After all, she probably couldn’t get past her own overwhelming sulfur scent. Or was that brimstone? Whatever it was, she reeked like the spawn of Beelzebub that she was.

“Hey, I remember smelling something that night,” Karalee said, her forehead creased in thought. “It was like, I don’t know, incense or something. Huh. I didn’t think about it until you asked that question. Huh.”

She was starting to sound like Ned with the huh and the huh. She shrugged and walked away.

“That seemed to go well,” Derek said, approaching me on my blind side. He handed me another glass of red wine.

“Thanks,” I said and took a big sip. The perfect remedy for a Minka-induced headache. “I didn’t realize you were watching. I’m so glad I had a witness.”

“I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you walk over and talk to her.”

“Were you hoping to break up a catfight?”

“I only dreamed,” he said sardonically.

I shook my head and took another sip of wine. “She’s so stupid. What was I thinking?”

His eyes narrowed in on me. “Yes, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t like that look you’re giving me,” I said, and tried to stare him down. But his gaze was unyielding. He was, after all, a professional. “Okay, fine. I thought she might have some clue about the night she was attacked.”

“Have we not had this conversation before?”

My shoulders slumped, but I snapped back to attention. “Look, I just want to make sure that BABA is safe. You can’t blame me. First Minka, then Layla. And then Gabriel over the weekend, not that he had anything to do with the attacks here. But it just makes me worry that I’m—oh, I don’t know—something like a murder magnet.”

There, I’d said it.

He shook his head. “Darling Brooklyn, you can’t tell a lie to save your life. But I must hand it to you. You never give up trying.”

My jaw dropped. “You think I’m lying?”

“Yes, I think you’re lying,” he said easily, and sipped his wine. “Because you are.”

“I’m not—”

“My love, I’ll say it again: You’re the world’s worst liar.” He took hold of my arm and led me away to a quieter spot. “The fact is, you simply can’t help sticking your pretty little nose into places it doesn’t belong. I understand the appeal of investigating a murder, but you could get yourself hurt. So I’m inclined to advise you against it.”

“But—”

“You appear to have a short-term memory problem, so let me remind you of a certain psychopathic killer who had you trapped in St. Margaret’s Chapel in Edinburgh not so very long ago.”

I shuddered, then glanced around to make sure we weren’t being overheard. “Of course I remember that.”

“I’m glad.”

“But that was a completely different situation. This time I’m not involved. I’m not a suspect. I’m just concerned about being the common factor among three attacks in less than a week.”

“You?” He shook his head as if to rearrange his brain cells. “You think you’re the cause of these attacks?”

“No, not the cause. But don’t you think it’s strange that I’m the one who found all three victims?”

“Strange, yes. Connected, no.” He pointed toward the small cluster of cops who’d just walked into the party. “There’s Inspector Lee. Let’s go see if she can be charmed into sharing her latest findings with us.”

“That’s why I keep you around, sport,” I said.

“Music to my ears, my dear.”

I stared at him. “Music.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Yes, let’s go see the inspector,” I said. I placed my empty glass on a nearby tray and took off across the room.

He caught up with me in two strides. “You’re in a hurry all of a sudden.”

“I just put something together.”

“So you did get something out of Minka.”

“Maybe.”

Taking hold of my arm, he took a detour, pulling me down the hall and into an empty classroom. “What is it?” he demanded.

“Minka said she heard music coming from Layla’s office just before she was attacked. But I just remembered that by the time I came down the hall and found her, there was no music playing. So someone turned off Layla’s stereo in the interim.”

“The person who attacked Minka.”

“It’s a long shot, but if the power button is a smooth surface, they might’ve left a fingerprint.”

He gave me a mind-blowing kiss. “That’s why I keep you around, sport.”

I laughed and took his hand. “Let’s go talk to the police.”

After Inspector Lee assured us that the fingerprint crew would be here shortly, Derek went off to make a phone call and I joined the party, entering the upper gallery as Naomi, at the central podium, introduced Gunther to the crowd.

He took the microphone and in his thick Austrian accent told everyone that he intended to keep his word and conduct the lithograph classes Layla had announced last week. He added, “Layla would insist. She would probably haunt me if I did not stay.”

That got a big laugh, but Gunther looked disgruntled. I wondered if Naomi had threatened him with her aunt’s poltergeist. More than likely, he’d signed a contract and she’d threatened him with a lawsuit.

I was happy he was staying because I planned to sit in on one of his classes and learn his techniques. And more important, if Gunther stayed, then Derek would stay.

Naomi took her place back at the podium. After several calming breaths, the room hushed and she spoke. “My aunt was a woman to be reckoned with.”

There was respectful applause.

“If there’s one thing Aunt Layla would’ve insisted on, it was that the Twisted festival must carry on as scheduled.”

This was met by thunderous cheers. It seemed to feed her as she continued, “And if there’s one thing
I
insist on, it’s that the gala culminating the Twisted festival be even bigger than Layla planned. And Charles Dickens is going to have to share the evening’s honors with Layla Fontaine.”

Now along with the enthusiastic clapping, I could see tears glistening in the eyes of many. Who knew Naomi could rock a crowd like this? Maybe she was channeling her aunt Layla. Minus the sexual innuendo, thank God.

“Now, please enjoy yourselves as we celebrate the life of a wonderful woman and the work she did for the Bay Area Book Arts.” Naomi wore a satisfied grin as she took in the cheers and applause. She signaled the crowd to settle down so she could add, “I’ve been told that the bartenders just opened a case of 2007 Kosta Browne pinot noir. For all you wine snobs in the room, this is your moment.”

“That’s all of us,” somebody shouted.

True enough. This was San Francisco, where nine out of ten of us were inveterate wine snobs. There were laughs and cheers as the thundering hordes raced to one of the two bars in the gallery.

“That was a smart move,” Alice said from inches away.

I jumped a little, then laughed at myself. “You snuck up on me.”

“Sorry.” She linked arms with me. “I was just saying it was smart of Naomi to order all that great wine. It’ll endear her to everyone.”

I looked around, then murmured, “Everyone but the board of directors. They seem firmly in your camp.”

“So you noticed the two camps?”

I nodded and she sighed. “I hate the idea, but Naomi is determined to turn this into a competition. I just want to work together to keep things going at a professional level.”

“That speaks to your higher level of experience and understanding of business. The board will surely recognize that in you.”

“Thank you, Brooklyn.” She squeezed my arm. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

Like Naomi, Alice was dressed completely in black, though her look was more sedate. A simple long-sleeved black knit dress skimmed her calves. Black boots and her usual black velvet headband completed the look.

Alice shivered as she glanced around. “I can’t help wondering if Layla’s killer is here in this crowd.”

I followed her gaze and saw Cynthia and Tom Hardesty with their heads close together. They looked as though they were arguing about something, which was not unusual. Tom looked shaken but Cynthia appeared resolute. Then Tom peeked timidly around the room.

Alice and I both looked away.

I glanced back in time to see Tom give Cynthia a peck on the cheek, almost like a son would kiss his mother. It was a little peculiar, but that pretty much described their relationship.

“Do you think he was having an affair with Layla?” Alice whispered.

I stared at Tom, considering, then shook my head. “He might’ve wanted to, but do you really think Layla would stoop that low?”

“Oh, never. But I wonder if she spurned him and . . .” She covered her mouth, unable to finish the alarming thought.

A spurned man might be more than capable of murder, I thought, watching the Hardestys for a few more seconds. Then I shook my head. “Tom wouldn’t have the guts. But Cynthia is a different story.”

Alice gasped. “She’s just ballsy enough to do it. She seems so contemptuous of people.”

I nodded. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“I’m going to confess something,” Alice said, and took a deep breath. “Cynthia scares me more than anyone else in this room.”

“She is awfully big-boned,” I allowed.

“I know. She could smash me like a bug.”

I chuckled, then sobered as Naomi walked past, followed by three board members, one of whom signaled Tom and Cynthia to join them. The group walked down the hall into Naomi’s office and closed the door.

“What was that all about?” I wondered, then exchanged looks with Alice. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“Not a clue. But I’m going to find out.”

I followed Alice as she threaded her way through the crowd. She could be determined when she wanted to be. We made it to the closed office door in record time. But it wasn’t necessary to get that close. Through the door we could hear Naomi from halfway down the hall.

“I deserve that position,” Naomi cried. “I do everything around here. She means nothing to this place—do you hear me? Nothing.”

“But Layla had confidence in her.” That was Cynthia’s voice. “I’m sorry, Naomi, but she didn’t feel the same way about you.”

“Well, Layla’s dead now,” Naomi said pointedly. “And I’m the only one who knows how to run this place.”

“And we agree, dear,” Tom said gently, trying to placate her. “That’s why we’re giving you a raise and a more prestigious position. What more do you want?”

“I want the executive director position,” she snapped.

“Naomi, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“I’m not the one making it harder. You are. Why shouldn’t I fight for what I want?”

“Because we’ve made our decision.”

“But it’s not the right decision,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m the one who does all the work and some new-comer gets the job? Not fair!”

“Naomi, please,” said Cynthia. “We’re only doing what we think Layla would want us to do.”

“For God’s sake, stop kowtowing to Layla,” she cried. “I know what you thought of her. How can I be sure you didn’t kill her?”

There was silence.

“Whoa,” Alice whispered.

I had to agree—that was harsh. Even if I’d had the same thought five minutes ago.

“I’m sorry, dear, but the board has made its decision.”

“You’ll be sorry, all right. You’ll all be sorry.”