The Grim Reader Page 10

  “I hope so.” The more I thought about it, the more anxious I was to find out. “That could be important.”

  “I agree.”

  “Or not.” I sighed. I knew both of us were thinking of all of our friends—not to mention my parents—with their own wineries. If one of their bottles had been used to kill Lawson . . .

  “Was any of the wine spilled on the floor?”

  He frowned thoughtfully and steered the car around a curve, headlights slashing through the darkness. “I thought I saw some drops of wine spilled on the floor, but again, there was so much blood, it was hard to tell for certain which was which.”

  I should’ve thought of that. “Did the police say if they found any fingerprints on the bottle? Or the wineglasses? Any footprints on the floor?”

  “Gabriel and I saw fingerprints on one of the glasses, but the other one had been wiped clean. And there were fingerprints on the bottle as well. Willoughby confirmed it. He explained that he could’ve pulled the prints himself, but decided to wait for the techs to arrive from Sonoma. They’ll be able to gather all the evidence at one time and put together a more complete picture.”

  I half turned in my seat to stare at him. “What other evidence was there?”

  “There was a dirty footprint on the wood floor. I’d like to think it came from either the killer or the victim, as the room appeared to have been cleaned earlier. But it could’ve come from our mothers’ shoes. Or any of ours, for that matter. We’ll have to wait and see for sure.”

  I frowned. “They didn’t take any of our shoes into evidence.”

  “No.” He glanced at me. “Strictly speaking, they should have. But, they’ll probably check shoes during their interviews tomorrow. That is, later today.”

  “Right. Strange that they didn’t take our shoes,” I mused. I could remember handing my shoes over to Inspector Lee on more than one occasion when I’d stepped onto a crime scene. “I guess small-town detectives work differently than the big-city cops.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “Oh, and Gabriel found a button in the corner of the room, but we’re not sure where it came from.”

  “A button.” I frowned again. “But if the room was cleaned earlier, I would hope that the cleaners would’ve found a button. Which means it would’ve come from either Lawson’s or the killer’s clothing.”

  “Perhaps,” he mused, unwilling to put too much faith in the cleaning service or in the possibility that a button might be a major clue. “Also, there were a few pages of a spreadsheet left on the conference table.”

  “Seriously? I didn’t see any of that when I was in there.”

  “You were distracted, darling.” He made another turn. “You were worried about our mothers and trying to avoid looking at blood.”

  “True. Some detective I am.”

  He laughed. “You’re a wonderful detective—for a bookbinder.”

  I laughed, too, and could have kissed him for making me smile.

  “Did you get a good look at the spreadsheet? Was it festival related?”

  Derek turned onto Vivaldi Way and started up the hill. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to study it.”

  I was ridiculously disappointed. “That’s too bad.”

  He winked and grinned. “But I snapped a photo of it so we can both study it later today.”

  I beamed at him. “Oh my God, you are awesome. You’re also a great detective for a Commander.”

  He nodded regally. “Thank you, my love. And you may call me Derek.”

  I snorted a laugh. “You’re awfully funny for two o’clock in the morning.”

  “Darling, for two o’clock in the morning, I’m hilarious.”

  I laughed again. “Yes, you are. Any time of day, really.” But then I sighed. “I wish I’d been more coherent earlier. I could’ve helped you look around for clues.”

  He pulled into the driveway of Abraham’s house and came to a stop. “Don’t feel too badly, darling. I think your natural abhorrence of blood was exacerbated by the fact that it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. And it didn’t help that your mother and mine may be implicated, so you had your mind on that as well.”

  “You got that right.” I yawned. “I can’t believe it’s two o’clock—”

  “In the morning. Right.” He chuckled, then unfastened my seatbelt for me. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Later that morning, we sat in the sunny breakfast room, drinking coffee and feasting on iced pumpkin scones, Brie, slices of ham, and apple chunks, when Derek’s phone rang. The conversation was brief and when he ended the call, he said, “That was Detective Willoughby. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

  “He’s coming to interview us himself? Not sending one of the officers?”

  “Yes, he’s coming himself.” Derek broke off a corner of the scone, spread a generous bit of Brie on it, and topped it with a thin slice of ham. “I’m going to bet he’s coming here himself because of the little girl he loved in fourth grade.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to bet he’s coming himself because of . . .” I lowered my voice to add gravitas to the words, “the Commander.”

  Derek rolled his eyes, then took a moment to chew his scone-Brie-ham concoction. “As I mentioned, my former title was useful in the moment.”

  “Very useful indeed,” I agreed, recalling all the juicy information Derek had been able to learn from the police at the crime scene the night before.

  “I believe,” Derek said, “that with all the evidence left behind in the meeting room, the police will be able to track down this killer in no time flat.”

  “I hope so,” I said, but I was worried. “I don’t want the main festival headline to read ‘Murder at the Book Festival.’ That’s not the kind of takeaway we want for the first annual Dharma Book Festival.”

  Derek nodded. “Your mother would find that very upsetting.”

  “Everyone would, but especially Mom.” I sipped my coffee. “Although I’ve noticed in the past that murder doesn’t necessarily keep the hordes from showing up anyway.”

  “So true,” Derek admitted. “People can be ghoulish indeed.”

  I nodded in grim acceptance. “For that reason alone, our festival could be the most successful event in the history of Sonoma County.”

  “Careful . . . if you’re right, the council could want a murder every year just to keep up attendance!”

  I wanted to laugh, but as we’d discovered in the past, the general public could be pretty weird. So who knew?

  He laughed ruefully. “If our mothers’ behavior last night is anything to go by, the subject of murder will be a big draw.”

  I chuckled. “Do you remember when they first met at our house?”

  Derek poured both of us another cup of coffee. “How could I forget? They practically begged us to take them on a tour of the sites where you’d discovered dead bodies.”

  “And they were downright giggly when you allowed them to act as a distraction while you broke into an apartment to steal a rare book.”

  “I must say they performed well,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Almost makes me worry what the two of them could do as a team if they’re determined enough.”

  “I know what you mean. Still, they got the job done.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t worry anymore that they discovered the body.”

  “Nor will I. They’ve held up just fine so far.”

  His words made me smile, but it faded slowly. “I know Mom will hate that murder has come to Dharma.”

  “On that we’re agreed.” He rolled a slice of ham around a thick sliver of Brie. “It really is too bad. Not just the murder itself, which is horrific, don’t get me wrong. But the timing, love. It couldn’t be worse.”

  I ate my scone and thoug
ht about everything we’d gone through in just one day. “Is it wrong that I blame it all on Jacob Banyan?”

  “It’s not wrong because, frankly, so do I,” Derek admitted. “But why do you think it’s his fault?”

  “I’m not necessarily accusing him of killing Lawson Schmidt. But he’s such a scrooge and a buzz killer. And he’s not just a miserable human being, he’s mean, too. A bully. You could see his attitude affecting everyone on the festival committee. His evil vibe alone might’ve caused someone else to lash out.” I took a bite of Brie, then muttered, “That might be a little harsh.”

  “Perhaps a little. Yet I must agree.” Derek considered it for a moment. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him. If he’s our killer, he’ll give himself away sooner or later.”

  “What if he’s not our killer?”

  “Then we’ll have eliminated one suspect.”

  “Good point.” Though I hoped he was the killer. Otherwise, there was someone else in Dharma as dangerous as Banyan.

  I checked the clock on the wall of the breakfast room and realized that Stevie would be here in fifteen minutes. “I’ll clear the dishes and tidy up.”

  “Thanks, love.” He glanced at the clock as well. “Your Detective Stevie should be here soon. I have to make a quick phone call to the office, but I’ll be finished before he arrives.”

  “He’s really not my detective,” I said mildly, and began stacking our dishes. “And by the way, Derek. If you call him Stevie, I’m going to have to beat you.”

  He laughed, clearly unimpressed with my threats. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t embarrass you in front of your little friend.”

  Little friend? I turned and glared at him. “You’re really going to get it, pal.”

  He was still laughing when he left the room.

  * * *

  • • •

  Derek was finished with his phone call and back in the living room when Stevie arrived.

  “I just left your parents’ house.” He grinned at me. “They’re great. Just like I remembered them.”

  “Yeah, they’re pretty awesome.”

  He glanced at Derek. “And I spoke with your parents earlier.”

  “Aren’t they wonderful?” I gushed.

  “Yeah, they are. You guys lucked out in the in-law sweepstakes.”

  “It’s true. We are incredibly lucky,” Derek said. “Have a seat, Detective.”

  “Would you like some water or coffee?” I asked.

  “No, thanks.” He sat in one of the sling-back chairs across from the couch. “It’s weird, isn’t it, how much alike your mothers are?”

  Derek and I looked at each other, each of us smiling, before I looked at Stevie. “We’ve noticed. It’s like they’re long-lost sisters or something.”

  “Agreed,” he said, then added, “Why don’t you both sit down and we can talk for a few minutes?”

  For some reason, his polite request that we sit down unnerved me. I wasn’t sure why. Of course we should sit down; that wasn’t the point. But I was suddenly wishing that Inspector Lee was sitting here with us. I had no idea how Stevie would run this murder investigation.

  Would he listen to people like Saffron Bergeron and believe that my mother was to blame for Lawson’s death? Because that was just the sort of slanderous talk Saffron would spread. I had to take a few breaths and try to calm down. I was panicking already, and that was no way to approach this.

  I remembered that back in fourth grade, Stevie and I were the two smartest kids in class. That was one of the reasons why we’d been drawn to each other. I just hoped he was as smart now as he had been back then.

  But meanwhile, I needed to snap out of this hyper-weird zone I was in, and quickly. I didn’t need a murder detective wondering why I was sweating and stuttering like a guilty person.

  I sat down. See, that was easy, I thought. Taking another deep breath, I tried to smile. Were my lips trembling? I stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

  Running down the hall to the powder room, I closed the door, stared at myself in the mirror, and scowled. “You goofball. Settle down. No, he’s not your good buddy like Inspector Lee. But that’s okay. He’s Stevie, your old grammar school boyfriend, and he likes you. He likes Derek, too. And he likes your mother and Derek’s mother. There are no problems here. Nobody in your family is guilty. We just need to answer a few questions to help him solve this crime. So shape up and get back out there and kick butt!”

  And rah-rah-rah. Go team. Sheesh. Honestly, I needed to get a grip on this kind of thing. But in my defense, if it were your mom involved in a murder investigation, wouldn’t anybody turn into a babbling idiot?

  After a few more deep breaths, I felt as if I could walk out and conduct myself like a normal person. I washed and dried my hands for good measure, and then walked back to the living room and quickly took a seat next to Derek on the couch.

  “Sorry, I had to wash my hands.” It was a lame excuse, but hey, I had washed my hands.

  Derek looked at me with some concern. I appreciated it, because I was concerned, too. I smiled at him, hoping the smile would assuage his worry. He frowned. Okay, maybe my lips were still a little shaky. I just prayed that I didn’t look as unhinged as I felt.

  “So, Stevie,” I began, then winced. “I mean, sorry, Detective Willoughby, I imagine you have some questions for us?”

  “Sure do.” His smile was a little tight. “And I appreciate you calling me Detective Willoughby when I’m working a case. Otherwise, Steve is fine. Nobody’s called me Stevie in twenty years.”

  I no longer felt shaky. Funny. His attempt to get more professional improved my balance. “Steve it is. Except for when you’re on duty.”

  “Thanks.” He opened his notebook.

  “I’d like to make a statement first,” I said before I could change my mind.

  His look of surprise matched Derek’s, but it couldn’t be helped. I’d had the realization while washing my hands.

  “All right,” he said.

  I took a deep breath, then said, “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but Jacob Banyan has made numerous threats to my mother. And Derek and I witnessed him threatening Lawson Schmidt as well.”

  He scanned his notebook, skipping back a few pages before glancing up. “Your mother mentioned that she heard Banyan threaten Lawson.”

  “But said nothing about the threats to her?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I felt my eyes crossing.

  Derek said quickly, “Banyan’s a dangerous man. His threats to Mrs. Wainwright are numerous and ugly, as Brooklyn mentioned. Frankly, he’s a menace and should be considered a suspect.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Stevie said, making a note in his book before giving us both a firm nod.

  “Okay, thanks,” I said with some relief. “I just needed to get that off my chest. Please go ahead with your questions.”

  He found his place in the notebook and began. “Can you give me an idea of what happened last night when your mother called you?”

  “Sure.” We told him the whole story, right down to the fact that I get dizzy when I see blood.

  “Do you see blood often?” he asked.

  “Um.” I glanced at Derek. “Sort of.”

  “Brooklyn has been involved in a number of crime scenes,” Derek explained easily. “It’s due to the fact that she works with very rare and very expensive books. For some reason, there are any number of people out there who would kill for a book.”

  Steve looked up from his notebook. “Well now, there’s a coincidence for you. Dharma is about to have its first book festival.”

  “Exactly,” Derek said triumphantly, as though Stevie had solved the great puzzle of the universe.

  Frowning, Stevie glanced from Derek to me. “But I don’t see how Lawso
n Schmidt could’ve been killed over a book.”

  “You have no idea,” I muttered.

  Derek shrugged philosophically. “We’ve said that same thing before and it turned out that there was often a perfectly plausible reason as to why a book was a motive for murder.”

  “Really,” Stevie murmured.

  “Yes, Detective,” Derek said with authority.

  “And not to nitpick,” I chimed in, “but even if Lawson wasn’t killed over a book, he was almost certainly killed over a book festival.”

  Derek gazed at me and I wondered if he was silently high-fiving me or just laughing on the inside. It was pretty clever if I did say so myself. But Stevie didn’t look convinced.

  “Anyway,” I rushed on, “before you conclude that I’m a complete flake, I really have been involved in a number of homicide investigations in San Francisco. And that’s where my blood phobia comes from. You can get in touch with Inspector Janice Lee of the San Francisco Police Department if you need a reference or whatever. She’s familiar with my bookbinding work and the murder investigations connected to it. I can give you her number if you’d like to consult with her.”

  Would he think I was overstepping here? I wasn’t trying to tell him how to do his job. I just wanted him to know that, well, I wasn’t a complete nutjob.

  “I might consider doing that,” he said, surprising me.

  Okay. Good news. I was breathing a little easier as I wrote Inspector Lee’s phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Steve.

  “Thanks.” He slipped the paper into his pocket.

  And now I had to wonder and worry just how good an idea that was. Inspector Lee could be prickly sometimes and she enjoyed giving me grief. I didn’t think she would throw me under the bus in this circumstance. Just in case, though, it would be a good idea if I placed a call to her myself.

  * * *

  • • •

  A few minutes after Detective Stevie left, Mom called to ask if Derek and I would go with her to the emergency committee meeting she’d called for that afternoon.

  “Of course, Mom,” I said, and glanced at Derek, since he was on the speaker phone call, too.