The Lies That Bind

by Kate Carlisle

  “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.

  My ladies’ chests were thrust forward, shoulders pulled back, hair fluffed more often, and laughter a bit more high-pitched. And maybe it was just me, but y
ou could cut the tension with a bone folder. It felt as though an eternity passed before class was finally finished for the evening.

  Alice was the last to leave. She waved excitedly, then flashed a stealthy look at Derek and gave me a thumbs-up. It was something a girlfriend would do.

  I smiled and waved, but as soon as she was out the door, I slumped against the table, exhausted. Either she was a psychopathic killer or I had just betrayed a budding friendship. Either way, I felt sick at heart.

  Derek stood behind me and massaged my shoulders. “You’ll feel much better once we’ve cleared her of any wrongdoing.”

  I turned around and faced him. “You promise? Because right now I feel pretty awful. I wouldn’t blame her if she never spoke to me again.”

  “She need never know,” he whispered. “And it’s all for a good cause.” He planted a kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.” I grabbed my bag and we walked out arm in arm. In the gallery, Karalee was finishing up a small group tour of the facilities. There had been a lot more visitors this week because of the Twisted festival, and the hours had been extended. Refreshments were served all day, as well, and the caterers were starting to clean up.

  Leaning close to Derek, I whispered, “Did you get some good photos?”

  “I managed to get a number of close-ups of all the key players,” he said, his lips close to my ear. Tingles resonated across my skin as he moved his mouth along my neck. It took me a minute to recall that we were in the middle of the gallery in full view of people, talking about him taking pictures of possible murder suspects.

  “Good job,” I managed, and exhaled. “The sooner Gabriel can look at the shots, the sooner we’ll be able to put an end to this charade.”

  Derek drove to my place and parked the Bentley in the visitors’ space in the garage. “Do you think we can sneak in without anyone noticing?”

  I laughed. “Not if we take the elevator.”

  “Where are the stairs?”

  “Right over there.”

  “Good.” He touched my cheek, his hand warm on my skin as he turned my face toward his. He leaned in and kissed me and I savored the sensation. I was disarmed by his gentleness as his hands slipped through my hair and he pulled me closer.

  His phone trilled loudly in the quiet of his car.

  Derek groaned. “I’m going to throw that thing away.”

  “It’s me, I’m cursed,” I said, flopping back in my seat. “Don’t blame the phone.”

  He answered the call. After a minute, he hung up and leaned back against the headrest. With eyes closed, he said, “The prime minister’s jealous son-in-law just tried to kill Gunther.”

  I spent another restless night alone. At four a.m., I couldn’t stand it any longer. I called Derek to get the scoop on Gunther and his would-be killer.

  “Gunther is shaken but safe,” he said, his voice weary. “The son-in-law and his accomplice are both being held in jail until they can be processed for extradition.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “Yes, Gunther was club-hopping in North Beach and met a woman. She wanted to leave and Gunther didn’t want my men following him, so he pretended to use the toilet but instead snuck outside through the kitchen. When he circled around to the front sidewalk, he was assaulted. The son-in-law stood nearby as his henchman tried to stab Gunther.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said, not adding what I thought of a man who paid thousands of dollars for protection and refused to use it.

  “Yes, it is,” Derek said. “It’s lucky that my men are used to Gunther’s stupidity. They were there in time to rescue him and apprehend his attacker.”

  “I’m glad it’s over,” I said.

  “Yes, so am I.”

  So this was it. He would leave town in the next few days and that would be the end of our budding friendship-or whatever it was. I wished him sweet dreams and we hung up. I was certain I wouldn’t sleep another wink, but I managed to doze off after a while.

  Saturday morning, Derek picked me up at nine o’clock and we drove to Sonoma in record time. As we wound our way through Sausalito and into San Rafael, I finally related Guru Bob’s story of Gabriel.

  “And this happened five years ago?” Derek said.

  “Yes.”

  He thought for another moment. “And Robson said Gabriel came to him asking for sanctuary?”

  “That’s what he said. Why?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “It’s one big long shot, any way you look at it. If Gabriel doesn’t recognize anyone in the photos, we’re back to square one. And even if he does recognize someone, will he be willing to leave the security of Dharma to help us set a trap?”

  “I think he will,” I said. After all, a man who would climb a mountain in Afghanistan during a tribal war to save people wouldn’t let a little threat of death slow him down.

  We discussed a wager over whose photo Gabriel might recognize. My money was on Naomi. Or Cynthia. Or Ned. Anyone but Alice. The thought that I might’ve brought a brutal killer into my home and introduced her to my friends caused me physical pain.

  Derek told me that he’d actually considered calling the police the night before to give them the benefit of our brainstorming session. But at the last minute, he’d decided against it. He was still feeling the burn of his own recent interrogation and we weren’t sure anything would come of this plan. So for now, we would operate on our own. If something broke open, we would turn things over to Inspectors Lee and Jaglom immediately.

  I was only now realizing how traumatic it must’ve been for him to be taken in for questioning. Days later, I could tell it still disturbed him, that the very institutions he’d pledged his life to serve had refused to believe him. Talk about betrayal.

  I hoped the drive to Sonoma would help ease some of the tension he was feeling. As I stared out at the rolling, vine-covered hills, I could feel my own stress seeping away from my shoulder muscles. My neck was looser than it had been in a few days. Then Derek took hold of my hand and everything smoothed out. I felt at peace. I knew it wouldn’t last, but at the moment, life was perfect.

  “Have you spoken with Savannah?” he asked, interrupting my perfect thoughts.

  I gasped. In all the hubbub of the last twenty-four hours, I’d forgotten to ask Savannah about Alice. I pulled out my cell phone, pushed her number, and waited. When she answered, I asked the question. She had to think back for a few seconds.

  “It was an odd moment, now that you ask,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “Alice and I were walking back to Annie’s to find you. Then I saw you standing outside of Annie’s store a block or so away and I pointed you out to Alice. That’s when I saw Gabriel walking into town. He’s a pretty one, isn’t he?”

  I mumbled my agreement.

  “Okay, so just then, Alice grabbed hold of her stomach. I thought she was going to be sick right there.”

  “Was she?”

  “She said she needed to find a bathroom and went tearing off. I yelled at her to go to China’s, because she has one at the back of her store, but I don’t think she heard me. She ran across the street and disappeared down the walkway between the baby shop and Peregrine.”

  Peregrine was a French bistro on the Lane.

  “What did you do?” I asked.

  “I went on to Annie’s,” Savannah said. “I figured Alice would end up there eventually. It was maybe another ten minutes later that we heard someone had been hurt. By then, Alice had returned and we all ran down to find you.”

  It was my turn to feel sick. I blew out a breath and looked at Derek. He watched me with concern in his eyes.

  If Alice had seen Gabriel walking toward me, she would have had ample time to hide between two of the stores on the other side of the street and take aim at him.

  In my heart, I knew that Alice had tried to kill Gabriel. I just didn’t know why.

  That would mean she’d had a gun w
ith her the whole time. All during our drive up to Dharma, the few minutes she’d spent with my mother, all the while she’d been at the spa, at the hospital, at my parents’ home for dinner.

  It was my worst nightmare come true. I’d brought a ruthless killer into my family’s home. It wasn’t easy to admit, but I knew what I had to do now.

  “Will we see you later?” Savannah asked, her tone gentle.

  “I’ll be at Mom’s for a little while but then I have to get back to the city.”

  We ended the call, and I related to Derek everything she’d said.

  He nodded once, his jaw rigid. “Let’s go talk to Gabriel.”

  Chapter 19

  Gabriel lay pale and groggy under a fluffy white blanket and crisp blue sheets, a stack of soft pillows beneath his head. His left temple was swathed in a large gauze bandage crisscrossed with white surgical tape. It hurt to see him laid out like this.

  Around his wrist was a ratty-looking bracelet made of yarn and strips of cloth woven together with sticks and willow twigs and a bundle of something. Herbs? Bat-wing powder? Was this Mom’s attempt at a Wiccan healing bracelet? If so, it was kind of gross.

  Derek had stopped to talk to Dad for a minute, but then he walked into the bedroom and I watched his eyes widen, then narrow as he got his first look at Gabriel. His jaw flexed and I wondered what was going through his mind.

  I looked down at Gabriel, then back at Derek, whose expression was now impassive.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t wake him up,” Mom whispered, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands against her chest. “He didn’t sleep well last night. He’s still having nightmares.”

  “It’s important,” Derek said.

  “I’m awake,” Gabriel mumbled. His eyes remained closed, but his mouth was set in a scowl.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said softly.

  His eyes blinked open. “Hey, babe.”

  Derek frowned.

  I smiled. “Gabriel. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got hit by a bus.”

  “Poor baby,” I murmured.