MacLeod had arrived only minutes ago to interview me in Derek’s elegant penthouse suite. That’s right, Derek had rented the penthouse suite. The man had quite the expense account. Of course, since he owned his own security company, it probably wasn’t a problem convincing the boss he needed all this space.
I wondered if the Bentley limo we’d driven in was his company’s car or provided by the palace. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out it was his own car. He really was a conspicuous consumer.
But the suite was the most private place he could think of in which to have a conversation with MacLeod, so I was grateful he’d offered. Before MacLeod arrived, Derek had poured me a beer from the well-stocked minibar, then forced me to sit back on the luxurious white sectional sofa while he slipped off my boot and checked my ankle.
“It’s slightly swollen, but not broken,” he reported, patting my ankle gently. “Just a bit twisted, I suspect.”
Was he talking about me or my ankle?
He grinned, having read my mind. “You’re more than a bit twisted.”
“And you’re so cute.” I’d said it to be sarcastic, but it came out in a breathy whisper. Good grief.
“Rest,” he said, and leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he tucked a plush, soft afghan around me, and it must’ve taken only seconds before I passed out. At MacLeod’s arrival, I awoke feeling groggy and disoriented.
Always the delightful guest, that was me.
Before getting into the library attack, I told MacLeod about my discussion with Jack from Dublin earlier that day at the Fair Haven booth. “He was one of the people Kyle consulted about the book, but he couldn’t have killed him.”
“And why not?” MacLeod asked, humoring me.
“He’s shorter than me, and thinner,” I explained. “And I’d guess he was in his late sixties. I doubt he’d have the strength to bludgeon someone of Kyle’s size. And besides, he was excited to be getting a look at the book. Why would he kill Kyle?”
As MacLeod wrote out his notes, something else occurred to me. “Did you ever find out who called Kyle’s cell phone?”
Angus and Derek exchanged looks, something they did a lot when I was around. Derek merely lifted one eyebrow, and Angus sighed. “The call was made from a disposable cell,” he admitted. “Untraceable.”
“Damn it,” I muttered. Whoever owned that phone was probably Kyle’s killer.
“My sentiments exactly,” Angus said, then requested a full report on the library fiasco. When I was finished, he flipped his notepad to another page. “As far as your suspicion that Perry McDougall followed you to the library, my men interviewed a number of vendors near McDougall’s booth, as well as one of his employees.”
“Yes?” I said.
He sat across from me in a soft, buttercream leather chair, with his legs crossed in the manly style of one ankle propped on his other knee. “Everyone swore McDougall has been there all day. His alibi is ironclad.”
I wondered about that. “Was Minka LaBoeuf one of the employees interviewed? Because she would lie at the drop of a hat.”
He checked his notes and I saw his eyebrows lift. I took that to mean he’d found Minka’s name.
“I can’t reveal the names of witnesses,” he said gruffly. “But why would you accuse this person of lying?”
“She hates me,” I said gloomily. “If she knew it would screw me up, she’d lie without batting an eye.”
I stood and started to pace, but my ankle was still a little tender, so I leaned against the wall. “I’m not making it up. Somebody tried to kill me at the library.”
“I believe you, Miss Wainwright,” MacLeod said, and gave Derek a meaningful look. “After we spoke, I went by the library and saw the damage done. Someone went to great lengths to try to hurt her, with little regard for public property, I might add.”
Derek hissed out a breath and his jaw clenched.
Scowling, I turned to the picture window and stared out at the breathtaking view of Princes Street Gardens and the New City beyond. I wanted to enjoy the spectacular sight, but I was too furious to think straight. I couldn’t believe they were taking Minka’s word that Perry was innocent. It burned my butt to think that my fate might be in the hands, once again, of that deceitful, conniving Minka LaBitch.
Chapter 11
I left Derek’s suite shortly after MacLeod took off.
Mom and Dad had decided to go to the Witchery restaurant for a romantic anniversary meal, and Derek had some business dinner thing to attend, so I blew off my scheduled cocktail party to hang out with Robin and catch up on all the news.
“Angus kissed you?” I asked as I laid out my clothes for the evening.
“Yes,” Robin said. “We’d walked about a block from the hotel and he stopped and apologized. I asked him why and he goes, ‘Because I’m going to do this.’ And then he kissed me.”
“Wow. I’ve got goose bumps.”
“I know,” Robin said. “So then he says he took one look at me and felt like he’d been struck by lightning, and if I didn’t marry him, he’d spend the rest of his days tracking me down until I relented.”
“Wow,” I said again. “Good lines.”
“I know.”
“I need a shower.”