Meanwhile, Derek separated an English muffin and slipped both halves into the toaster. Then he began chopping up shallots and chives for the scrambled eggs.
“Tell me what you found out about Thuggy,” I said, having grown fond of that name.
“He’s a book collector from Prague,” Derek said as he scooped up the minced chives and dropped them into the scrambled egg mixture.
“A thug from Prague?”
He smiled. “We don’t actually know that he’s a thug.”
I glanced at the computer screen. “Oh, here he is again in this photo.” I tapped the screen. “Looks like he’s talking to someone, but it’s not the FBI guy.”
“I’ll see it in a minute,” he said as he buttered the English muffin. “Tell me about the guy he’s talking to.”
“Okay. He must be short, because Thuggy towers over him in this shot. He’s completely bald and wears little John Lennon glasses. He looks very intense and angry, like a Trotskyite.”
Derek wrapped the buttered muffin in foil and stuck it in the oven to stay warm. He began to heat up the frying pan, then turned and smiled. “Have you seen a Trotskyite before?”
“Sure. Mom and Dad’s friend Leon was a Trotskyite. He used to bring over copies of People’s World for us to read.”
Derek frowned. “I’m not familiar with People’s World.”
“It emerged from what used to be called The Daily Worker. You know, the Communist Party newspaper?”
“You used to read the Communist Party newspaper?”
“Well, Leon asked me to, and he was Dad’s friend. The articles were impossible to understand so I had a hard time. Of course, I was six years old at the time.” I shrugged and smiled.
“A budding Bolshevik.”
I laughed. “Oh sure, that was me. Anyway, Leon would quiz us on the articles, but if we got something wrong, he would get angry and lecture us. I used to cry and Dad finally asked him not to come over anymore. I can still remember how Leon called Dad a deluded Menshevik just before he slammed the door. And we never saw him again.”
“Deluded Menshevik.” Derek grinned. “Harsh words.”
I smiled at that. “Oh yeah, it was quite the smackdown. I had no idea what any of it meant, but to my six-year-old brain it sounded as if he had cursed my father to the devil. It made me really mad, but Dad just laughed it off. Told us Leon’s name wasn’t really Leon, after all. It was Archie. He changed it to Leon because that was Trotsky’s name. So basically he was just a fanboy. From then on we referred to Leon as Archibald.” I shook away the memory and turned back to the photo on the screen. “Anyway, come look at this guy.”
Derek poured the egg mixture into the frying pan, adjusted the flame, and walked over to look at the photo. “They are certainly talking intently. They must know each other.”
“I think so, too.”
“This one is a little out of focus. Does he show up in another shot? Maybe one that shows him head-on?”
“I’ll keep looking.” I pulled up six more photos. “Here’s Thuggy again, but . . . oh, good, here’s Leon again. And this is a perfect shot.”
“Leon,” he said. “That’s what we’re calling the bald guy?”
I smiled. “It suits him.” I scanned the other photos. “Oh, and here they are again, but look how they’re pretending to ignore each other in this shot.”
Derek took a look at both photos and pointed to one of them. “Send me that shot, will you, love?”
“Sending right now.” I clicked on it and forwarded the shot to Derek. “Done.”
A moment later, his phone beeped. “Message received.” He checked the eggs, then picked up the phone, typed out a text, and sent it on to someone in his office. A moment later he was back at the stove, resuming his duties as breakfast chef as though he weren’t a high-powered security expert trying to solve a brutal murder as well as a rare-book forgery on his wedding day.
I poured us both more coffee, then said, “So let’s go back to Thuggy.”
Derek played along. “We’ve assumed all along that he came here looking for a book.”
“Should we assume something else besides that?”
“Perhaps he came here looking for a book seller.”
I gazed at him, then nodded slowly. “You mean Rod? Do you think Thuggy is after him? Is that why Rod keeps freaking out whenever he sees the guy?” I stared at the photo again. “He is pretty scary-looking, thus the name Thuggy.”
“I have no idea, but it’s a possibility. Perhaps Rod promised him a book and hasn’t yet delivered on the promise.”
“If that’s true, then it’s all about The Three Musketeers.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Derek said, obviously trying to soften the blow.
“He wants that book,” I said flatly. “And Sara gave it to me. Doesn’t that make me a target?”
Derek’s gaze hardened. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Strangely enough, I wasn’t comforted. “So you really do think I’m in danger.”
He turned the heat off. “I don’t, actually. But I do think there are several people out there who are desperate to get their hands on this book.”
“What can we do?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Shall we make it available to them?”
I stared at him. “You mean, like an enticement? We tell them we have the book, we lure them out into the open, and then . . . what? Sell the book to the highest bidder? Have the police arrest them?”
“Perhaps Inspector Lee will have some ideas.”
“I’m sure she will.” I let out a short chuckle. “But what exactly do we tell her? And if we do entice one of these buyers to show up, do we first let them know that the book has been tampered with?”
“No.”
I smiled. “I agree.”
“Call it a hunch,” Derek said dryly, “but I doubt that Rod has mentioned that minor detail to the prospective buyers out there.”
“Of course not, because that would deflate the price.”
Either way, I had made up my mind that Rod was not a good guy. At best he was a grifter, and at worst, a vicious, clever killer. Had he and Cornelia been operating a book forgery ring behind Sara’s back, or was she involved as well? The thought actually depressed me. If our hunch about Rod was true, then Sara, who had lived with him all these years, had to have known he was a con artist. Was it easier to go along with him than fight him? Or was she the one who ran the grift?
Derek scooped the eggs onto our plates, gave us both two slices of bacon and half of the English muffin, grabbed jam and salsa from the fridge, and came and sat down across from me.
“This looks wonderful, Derek.”
“It should fortify us for a few hours.”
We enjoyed our meal in silence for a minute or two, then I glanced up at him. “Based on Mitch’s description, we’re assuming the guy who tried to break in was Thuggy.”
“That’s safe to say.”
“So how does he know I still have it? I might’ve already given it to the police.”
Derek looked at me. “But more importantly, why did he pick last night to try and break in? Did he know we wouldn’t be home?”
Disgusted, I set down my coffee mug. “If he knew that, then Rod had to be the one who told him. I knew it. I knew he was trouble from the very start. And now he’s trying to get me killed! We have to call Inspector Lee.”
“I called her last night and told her what I’d learned—which wasn’t much. I also mentioned that if she didn’t put a tail on Rod, then I would.”
“My hero.”
“And you’re mine,” he said simply.
I beamed at him. “Let’s call Inspector Lee right now. I’ll tell her I’m bringing the book with me to the Covington, which is what I was planning to do anyway. I don’t h
ave time to appraise it so I’m going to ask Ian to do it. I want to know what it’s worth after being tampered with.”
Derek called on his phone and she picked up after the first ring. “Don’t you two have better things to do with your day?”
“We do have some plans for later this afternoon, but right now we wanted to let you know that we’re bringing the book with us to the Covington.”
“Planning to use it as bait?”
“Well,” I said, taken aback. “Sort of.”
“That’s a really bad idea, especially on your wedding day.”
I explained that I had already decided to ask Ian to appraise the book while we were on our honeymoon. But just how we would actually bait the hook would take some planning.
She sighed. “Look, I have the afternoon off because I’m going to the wedding of two crazy people. But I’ll try to get a patrol car over there, just to be safe. Just, you know, don’t do anything stupid.”
We talked for another few minutes, then Derek thanked her and ended the call.
I glanced at my wristwatch. I had planned to give Derek the Shakespeare book this morning, but now I realized it would be better to wait and give it to him tonight after we got home. After we were married. The thought made me smile.
“Is it getting late?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s almost nine and I have to be at the Covington at noon. It’ll take me at least an hour to get ready, so realistically we have about one hour to figure out how to bait the hook.” I looked at him. “Is that enough time to catch a killer?”
“When it’s us doing the catching, my love,” Derek said, lifting his coffee cup in a toast, “more than enough.”
* * *
• • •
After I cleaned up the kitchen, I made a few phone calls. First I called my mother to make sure the family was awake and feeling good.
“We’re in the hotel coffee shop with Meg and John and we’re all perfectly healthy and happy. You should be soaking in a tub and fluffing yourself up, not worrying about us.”
“Mother, I’ve never fluffed myself up in my life. I don’t even know what that means. But look, making sure you’re happy is one of the things that helps me relax. So actually I’m doing both.”
“That makes perfect sense in the weirdest possible way. I love you, sweetie. See you soon.”
Next, I contacted my bridesmaid wrangler and best friend, Robin. “Everything okay with you guys?”
She laughed. “Austin and I are sitting in the booth next to your parents. I know you must be freaking out because you’re wasting precious time making dumb phone calls.”
“They’re not dumb,” I insisted. “They’re important to my peace of mind.”
She snorted. “Hang up the phone and go do something fun. Like pack for your honeymoon.”
“I’m already packed.”
“I’ve never understood how we got to be friends. You’re such a pain. See you later.”
“Love you. Don’t be late. You’re in charge of everything.”
“I know. I’ve already talked to the caterers and the flower people. Ian was there early to open up the Covington and let them into the garden and the kitchen and the banquet room. The cake is there, too, sitting on a shelf in the walk-in refrigerator. Laura, our hair and makeup lady, will meet us at noon in Ian’s office, hereinafter known as the girls’ dressing room. The photographer and his crew will also be there at noon to start shooting ambient shots of the grounds and the views, then he’ll come to the girls’ dressing room at one o’clock. The musicians will set up at two o’clock in the garden and the DJ will show up promptly at four.”
“So you’ve been slacking off.” I smiled as I pictured her rolling her eyes.
“Yes. That’s why I have to hang up now.”
“I love you.”
“Shut up. I love you. Good-bye.”
I took a quick moment to remember everything Robin had just said. She had been my best friend since we were eight years old and I couldn’t have loved her more than I did right at this moment. This was going to be the most beautiful day ever.
After that I started on the not-so-fun calls. First I contacted Rod and left a message for him. Then I reached Heather’s voice mail and left a similar message. My hope was that in case Rod didn’t get the message, Heather might run into him and tell him.
I checked my watch again and walked into Derek’s office, where he was staring at some diagram. San Francisco sunshine streamed in through the windows and lit the room up like a painting. While I studied Derek, I noticed what he was studying. It had taken me a moment to realize it was the layout for the Covington Library.
“Are you really memorizing the layout of our wedding venue?”
“Of course. You never know when you’ll have to access a different route in or out.”
I tipped my head to one side and smiled. “This is just something you do, isn’t it? You never know when someone will attack. Did you do it for our dinner last night?”
He smiled blandly, but said nothing.
Of course he did and of course he wouldn’t admit to it. Derek was all about security—especially when it came to me. And I loved that about him.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t want to know. I mean, I do, but . . . never mind.”
“Did you need something, love?”
I had to think. “Oh yeah, I was thinking we’ve got just enough time to run over to the conference center and see if Rod is working in his booth. I left him a message but I’d really like to see him in person so we’ll know that he took the bait, and then wait for him to contact Thuggy and Leon.”
He grinned at my nicknames, but then sobered. “I’d rather not take a chance on being late for our own wedding. Why don’t I call Inspector Lee and ask if she has time to pay Rod a visit?”
I frowned. “But will she agree to bait the hook for us?”
He set his cell phone down. “Good question. She already knows what we plan to do and she doesn’t approve. So whether or not she’ll agree to take an active part in the deception is an uncertainty. But it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“And maybe she’ll come up with a better idea.”
“Excellent point.” He picked up his cell phone again. “Let’s see how she reacts.”
He placed the call and she answered right away. Derek explained our idea and she started laughing.
“So is that a no?” I asked.
“No, that’s a big, fat no. Let me explain. First of all, I’m a cop. So there’s no way in hell I would ever go along with this. And second of all, you’re my friends. I’d never want to be responsible for sending a possible killer to your wedding. Do you get that?”
“We do,” Derek said amiably. “Thank you for being sensible.”
She laughed. “You guys don’t make it easy.”
Derek and she talked for another minute and then he ended the call. “She’s right, love. Let’s not incite any negativity on our wedding day.”
“You’re right and so is she. Besides, I already left cryptic messages where I could, so that’ll have to do.”
Derek stood and gave me a kiss and we held each other for a moment. “We’re going to have a wonderful day.”
“I know.” I checked my watch for the hundredth time and winced. “I don’t know why I thought we’d have plenty of time to visit Rod. If I don’t go take a shower right now, I won’t be ready in time.” Mainly because I knew I would come up with a dozen other things I needed to do before we finally left for the Covington.
He gave me another quick kiss. “Go ahead and get ready.”
“Okay.” I started to stroll out, then snapped my fingers. “I almost forgot the book. I’ll go get it.”
I jogged down the hall to the closet safe and pulled The Three Musketeers from the inner chest. Dashing to my workshop
, I found a padded envelope and slipped the book into it, then returned to Derek’s office. “Here you go. Will you be sure to ask Ian to put it somewhere safe?”
“Yes, love.” He checked his phone for the time.
“I’m going, I’m going.”
“Good,” he said, grinning, then pushed a button on his phone. “I’ll just check in with Corinne one more time.”
I walked out of his office shaking my head. I still couldn’t believe we were trying to solve a murder and get married at practically the same time. Was this really how I wanted to spend my wedding day? Was I staring into the future? Would our lives always be like this?
I turned and gazed at Derek, sitting at his desk talking intently to his assistant, Corinne, while looking so smart and masculine and dangerous and sexy. And my only thought was, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter Eleven
My friend Ian and the Covington Library had pulled out all the stops for our wedding. The rose garden was more lush and verdant than I’d ever seen it before. Flowers were bursting into bloom everywhere you looked, and I wondered if Ian had secretly brought in hundreds of extra plants just for the occasion.
Months ago, Ian and I had spent an afternoon strolling around the extensive grounds and we had agreed that the Shakespeare herb garden, with its winding brick paths, wooden benches, wonderful Celtic knot shrubbery, and perimeter of bay laurel trees, would be the perfect spot for afternoon cocktails and hors d’oeuvres following the ceremony in the rose garden.
Checking it out now, I was pleased to see that the caterers had set up two full-service bars on either side of the garden. There were small tables with chairs scattered throughout the expanse. Later on, a phalanx of servers would be circulating through the crowd carrying trays of yummy appetizers along with our signature cocktail—Twisted Honey—as well as glasses of champagne and white wine. The red wine would be served later at the sit-down dinner, thereby decreasing tenfold the chances of having someone spill red wine on my white dress. I had to admit that the red-wine-spillage scare was a particularly chilling wedding nightmare that I’d experienced twice now. I had seen so much wine spilled in my lifetime, I knew it could happen anywhere, anytime.
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