“Right. She’s the one who had the major falling-out with Sara over Rod Martin. They didn’t speak to each other for twelve years. Until the night of my shower.”
“She’s the one with the short red hair, right?” She made a note. “Tell me more.”
It didn’t make me happy, but I went into even more gritty detail of the big fight twelve years ago and the forced reunion two nights ago.
Lee pursed her lips in thought. “So Heather has been carrying a jealous grudge against this woman for over a decade?”
I nodded reluctantly, then hastened to add, “Not that I think she killed Sara. There’s no way. I mean, we haven’t kept in touch so I don’t know her as well as I used to. But still, it’s impossible. She’s always had a really good heart, and besides, what would she know about driving a forklift? I mean, someone would’ve had to have used the forklift to drop all those books and crates, right? Heather wouldn’t do that. I mean, who would? Not me. So really, it can’t be Heather. But . . .”
Was I babbling? Yes. I clamped my mouth shut.
Lee waited. “But . . . what?”
My shoulders slumped. “But . . . yeah, okay. Heather had been miserable for a really long time and she blamed Sara for that.”
Inspector Lee nodded slowly, still making notes.
“Oh. There’s someone else you might want to talk to,” I said. “I haven’t exactly met her but apparently she was pretty tough on Sara.”
Lee glanced up. “Who’s that?”
“It’s Sara’s boss. Her name is Cornelia and she sounds horrible. Sara thought she was jealous of her. You can get more info about her from Darla—who seems terrified of the woman.”
“Sounds like a peach.” Lee made a few more notes, then closed her notepad and slid it into her jacket pocket. Kneeling down next to Sara’s body, she stared at the scene for a long moment.
I signaled to Derek that we should leave her alone, but before we could walk away, she turned and glanced up at us. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some good old-fashioned motives.”
* * *
• • •
Derek and I hung around the chilly basement for another half hour, watching the forensics team spread out to gather any possible evidence. We stood over by the elevator, holding hands and talking quietly, staying out of the cops’ way.
“Don’t you think,” I mused, “that it’s possible that the forklift driver simply lost control? Maybe his foot hit the accelerator instead of the brake and the momentum caused his cargo to slide off and fall on Sara. So it could be an accident, not murder at all.”
He squeezed my hand. “Even you must admit that’s a stretch, love.”
“I know,” I mumbled.
“But all things are possible,” he continued. “You can mention that to Inspector Lee.”
“And watch her laugh at me? Always a good time.”
“You never know. I’m sure she plans to speak to the hotel forklift driver eventually.”
“Of course she will,” I murmured. “You know, we should track down Heather and warn her.”
“Warn her?”
I cringed and quickly checked to make sure that Inspector Lee wasn’t nearby. “I mean, tell her that the police will want to talk to her. And she doesn’t even know about Sara yet. I owe it to her to let her know before she hears it from the police.”
His eyes narrowed in on me. “I think I’d better go with you.”
I smiled for the first time in hours and pressed the elevator button. “That would be wonderful. You can meet her and judge for yourself whether she’s capable of killing anyone.”
“Everyone is capable of killing, given the right circumstances.”
My smile faded. “Too true.”
“But I would still like to meet her.”
I hugged him. “Thank you.”
The elevator arrived. Once we were inside and ascending to the ground floor, he gazed down and touched my cheek. “How do you feel about spending our wedding week dealing with murder?”
Sad to say, murder had become a part of our lives. As much as I hated to admit it, I was exactly what my mother thought I was. A murder magnet. How could I have expected our wedding week to be any different? But looking up into Derek’s eyes, I knew another truth.
“As long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”
* * *
• • •
I was surprised to find that it was still light outside. After spending several hours in that cold basement, it felt as if the entire world was a dark place.
I didn’t know where Heather was or which hotel she was staying at, so I texted her. “Can you meet me for happy hour, like, right now?”
A minute later, she responded. “Yes! Where are you?”
“Across the street at McNally’s Bar and Grill.”
“I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Awesome! See you then.”
I smiled at Derek. “We’ve got ourselves a date.”
When Heather walked in ten minutes later, we were already seated at one of the tall bar tables along the front window. I waved at her and she came right over and gave me a hug. “I’m so glad you texted me.”
“Me, too.”
“Oh. Hi.” She stared at Derek and I remembered my manners.
“Heather, this is my fiancé, Derek Stone. I hope you don’t mind him joining us. Derek, this is one of my oldest friends, Heather Babcock.”
They shook hands and then Derek stood. “The waitress seems a bit busy so I’ll go get our drinks.”
He took our orders and walked toward the bar.
“Oh my God, Brooklyn. He’s gorgeous.” Her gaze followed him. “And British to boot.”
“Yes, he is,” I said dreamily. “And he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and brave and, well, I seem to have lucked out.”
“I’ll say you did.” She chuckled, then added, “But I think he lucked out, too.”
“Aw, thank you.”
“If I had that drink, I would toast to your good luck and your happiness.”
I squeezed her hand. “I wish the same for you, Heather.”
“I’m going to be just fine,” she said, wearing a smile that tugged at my curiosity.
“What’s going on?” I asked, studying her. “You look . . . happy. Relieved, I guess. I don’t know. Your mood just seems a little lighter than yesterday.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Absolutely nothing. Just wondering what brought it on.” And please don’t say Sara’s murder, I thought to myself and barely managed to keep from saying it out loud.
“I might as well tell you,” she said shyly. “I mean there’s nothing wrong with it, but some people might get the wrong idea. But then some people, well . . .” She waved that thought away.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, and took a deep breath. “Okay. I met Rod for a drink last night.”
“What?” I might’ve shrieked the word.
Derek walked up at that moment and gave me an odd look as he set our drinks down. “Here you are, ladies.”
I grabbed my vodka gimlet and took a generous slug. “Holy moly.”
“Thank you, Derek,” Heather said, ignoring me. “What do I owe you?”
“Absolutely nothing. Drinks are on us tonight.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you. Thanks.”
We held up our glasses and clinked them together. “Cheers.”
I took another sip before I could manage to speak. “Heather had a drink with Rod last night,” I said, flashing Derek a significant look. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Does he even know who Rod is?” Heather asked me.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve told him the whole story.”
She smiled at D
erek. “So now you know all the sordid details of our past.”
He flashed a sympathetic smile. “Hardly. But it sounds as if you were all close friends once upon a time.”
“Once upon a time being the operative phrase,” she muttered.
I tried to get things back on track. “Heather, I wanted to see you tonight because I’ve missed you. But also, I just found out some bad news and I wanted you to hear it from me.” And to see your reaction when you hear it, I added silently.
She set her wineglass down. “This sounds serious.”
“It is.” I reached for her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She glanced down at my hand, truly worried now. “What is it, Brooklyn? What happened?”
“It’s about Sara.”
“Oh.” Her look of concern turned to annoyance. “Now what’s her problem?”
“It’s not good.”
“All right.” Frowning, she rolled her shoulders and straightened her spine. “What is it?”
“Sara is dead.”
She leaned in closer. “Sorry, but . . . what did you say?”
I repeated it and watched her mouth drop open. For a moment she looked as though she couldn’t breathe. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Heather? I didn’t mean to spring the news on you.”
But she clearly hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Her head lolled and it was as if her entire body had turned to soft wax as she slid off the stool.
“Heather!”
She was about to hit the floor when Derek caught her and hoisted her up and into his arms.
I watched in horror, then shouted for a doctor. “Help! We need help over here! Is there a doctor in the house?”
There were a few screams and general confusion. Derek carried Heather over to the hostess podium, where there were several couches set aside for people waiting for tables.
“Clear this area, please,” Derek yelled authoritatively, and everyone scattered.
The furor and confusion died down as a man from the bar rushed over. “I’m an EMT. What’s wrong with her?”
Derek glanced at the guy. “Have you been drinking?”
He didn’t seem to mind the question. “No, I’m the designated driver tonight.”
“Good.” Derek gave him a firm nod. “This is Heather. She just received some stressful news and fainted. She’ll probably be fine in a few minutes, but we’d appreciate it if you could make sure.”
“Did she eat or drink anything that might’ve caused her to pass out?”
“No,” I said. “We just gave her some bad news.”
“Okay, because I don’t have any equipment with me, but if that’s the only reason she fainted, she should be coming around in a minute. My name is Gus, by the way.”
“Thanks for your help, Gus,” I said. Staring at Heather, I had to wonder if she had actually fainted or if she was just pretending. Was this her way of deflecting suspicion? I had fainted a few times in my life and it was always at a traumatic moment. Would news of Sara’s death be so traumatic for Heather that she would lose consciousness? Admittedly, she looked completely out of it, but maybe she was a better actress than I ever gave her credit for.
Gus knelt down next to the couch and leaned over close enough to make sure she was breathing. “Heather, come on now, wake up. You’re going to be okay.”
She stirred almost instantly but didn’t open her eyes.
“Come on, Heather.” He patted her cheek gently but firmly. “That’s it. Wake up.”
With a sigh, she whispered, “What happened?”
“You passed out for a minute,” Gus said. “We were worried about you. How do you feel?”
She breathed in and out slowly. “A little spacey.”
“That’s okay. Take your time.”
Her eyes blinked open and she frowned. “Who are you?”
“I’m Gus.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“I’m an emergency medical technician.”
She gazed around. “Am I in an ambulance?”
“No, sweetheart. You’re in a bar.”
Her lips curved. “Well, that’s a new one.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “It’s a new one for me, too.”
“Heather,” I said, staring over Gus’s shoulder. “Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“The hospital? Oh, no. I’ll be fine.”
We watched for another few minutes while she slowly got her bearings. She took a deep breath and appeared ready to sit up, but then her face crumpled and I thought she was going to burst into tears. “Oh God, Brooklyn. Did I really hear you say what I think you said?”
I nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“Maybe we should get you back to your hotel,” Gus said.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m a little discombobulated, but I’ll be fine. I just need to sit up.” She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “Will you help me up, Gus?”
“I sure will.” He eased her up to a sitting position and then sat down next to her.
Heather leaned against him for a long moment. I couldn’t blame her. Gus was definitely hunky. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Are you ready to stand up?”
“I think so.”
“Let me help you get back to your table.”
“Could you stay with me for a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, wait. I’m sorry. Are you here with someone?”
“Just a buddy,” he said with a grin. “He’ll survive without me for a while.”
Her smile grew bigger. “Good.”
Was she actually flirting with the man? Once again she looked happy, reminding me that she had gone out for drinks with Rod Martin last night while his wife, poor Sara, had suffered death by a thousand books and was now on her way to the morgue.
Within the span of a few hours, our lives had become completely surreal.
* * *
• • •
Back at the table, Heather wasn’t letting her little fainting spell put a damper on her social life. We were on our second round of cocktails and Gus was still attending to Heather’s every need when I received a text from Inspector Lee. “Can’t find husband or girlfriend. Have you seen either?”
Admittedly, I was amazed that she had texted me for help. Glancing at Derek, I saw him observing me. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”
He nodded knowingly. “It might be quieter outside.”
I smiled at Heather and Gus. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I walked outside to call the inspector.
“Inspector Lee,” she answered after the first ring.
“It’s Brooklyn. Derek and I are with Heather right now. I don’t know where Rod Martin is, but she might know. Should I ask her?”
“I’d rather talk to her first,” she said. “Where are you?”
“McNally’s Bar. Do you know where that is?”
She snorted. “Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t let her leave.”
“She won’t.” Not as long as Gus sticks around, I added silently.
Back inside, Heather was curious. “I didn’t know where you went, but Derek said you had to make a phone call. Is everything all right?”
“It was nothing,” I said breezily. “What did I miss?” I was trying to be nonchalant, but what would I say when the police arrived? Would Heather realize I had fingered her to the cops?
Fingered her to the cops? Suddenly I was in a noir movie from the forties? Could I be more melodramatic? Inspector Lee just wanted to talk to her. Shaking my head, I reached for my glass and took a fortifying sip of my vodka gimlet.
“Heather,” I said, c
hanging the subject. “I’d like to get in touch with Rod so I can tell him what happened to Sara. Do you know where he is?”
She let out a gasp. “Oh no! Poor Rod.” She buried her face in her hands. Was she crying? Were they crocodile tears?
Gus exchanged looks with Derek and me. “Who’s Rod?”
“Our friend Sara’s husband.”
He grimaced. “Sara’s the one who died.”
“Right.”
He draped his arm around Heather’s shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. “I think I should get going.”
“Oh, don’t go,” she said, gazing up at him. “Do you have to?”
“Yeah. Will you walk outside with me?”
Her eyes brightened. “Yes.” She jumped down from her stool and looked at me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, good.”
As soon as she left, I turned to Derek. “I don’t want her to go too far. Inspector Lee will be here in just a few minutes.”
Derek was watching out the window. “Then I’d better follow them because they just took off walking up the block.”
“Oh, great.” Inspector Lee would kill me if Heather disappeared.
Derek jogged out of the restaurant and I sat and cooled my jets. Where would Heather go? Maybe she just wanted to take a walk with her new friend Gus, who seemed like a really nice, smart guy.
I sipped my drink and lamented my questionable judgment. I should’ve told Heather that I had spoken to the police and that they were on their way to talk to her. Sure, that might’ve spooked her, but at least she would know what was happening. On the other hand, if she knew the cops were on their way, would she make a run for it?
Make a run for it?
And there went my imagination again. But then, who knew what someone might do if they were feeling guilty enough?
Why would Heather be feeling guilty? The only possible reason was that she had something to do with Sara’s death.
And I hadn’t even started to grill her about Rod. Was that why she was feeling guilty? Because she’d been in a bar with Sara’s husband around the same time the woman was murdered? And how had Heather and Rod wound up having a drink together last night? I couldn’t believe they had simply run into each other at the conference.
Buried in Books Page 11