If Books Could Kill

I tried to speak, but my throat had dried up.

 

“Angus was saying you’ve made a formidable enemy,” he said. The breath from his words tickled my ear.

 

I smiled up at him as I gently pulled away. My heart could no longer handle the spike in blood pressure, and my self-esteem wasn’t doing much better. Sheesh, way to lose my cool in front of the head cop on the case.

 

“Uh, yeah,” I said, pacing a few steps away until I could finally breathe again.

 

Derek was watching me with suspicion, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. It just wasn’t fair. I was in a weakened state or I would’ve stared him down.

 

“ Brooklyn, Angus said you’re no longer a suspect,” Derek said.

 

I felt my mouth open, then close. Finally, I said, “Oh, is that what you were talking about? Sorry, my brain’s going off in ten different directions.”

 

“That’s understandable,” Angus said.

 

I could breathe again-in more ways than one. I was off the hook as a suspect in Kyle’s murder, because after all, why would I cut the brake line in the car I was driving in with my family and friends?

 

“Did your men interview Perry McDougall about the brake line?” Derek asked.

 

Angus looked at me briefly before deciding it was all right to discuss the case in front of me. “He left his booth at the fair this morning and hasn’t returned.”

 

“Really?” I said. “That’s suspicious, isn’t it?”

 

“Aye, but witnesses say he was on his way to present a three-hour seminar on…” Angus checked his notes. “Appraising rare British ephemera.” He gave me a puzzled look.

 

“Ephemera are printed items that weren’t supposed to be worth anything but now they are,” I explained. “Like a ticket to a Beatles concert at the Hollywood Bowl in 1964, for instance.” I mentioned that because my mother still had hers in a scrapbook. The ticket price was five dollars, but she’d paid twelve dollars to a scalper. Those were the days.

 

“Rare British ephemera usually has to do with the monarchy,” I continued. “Or the Beatles, as I said, or World War Two posters and brochures, baseball cards, that sort of thing.”

 

“Ah,” Angus said. “Well, he never showed up for the seminar.”

 

“Any word on his whereabouts?” Derek asked.

 

“Nothing yet.”

 

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If Perry had cut our brake line, then skipped town, he could be anywhere. Or he could be hiding somewhere in the hotel, waiting to attack again.

 

The chills were back. I rubbed my arms briskly, but it didn’t help.

 

I suddenly realized it was getting late. “I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to do a three-o’clock workshop.”

 

“Where?”

 

I had to think. “It’s on the D level. I don’t know the room number.”

 

“I’ll drop by,” Derek said.

 

“Yes, I may do the same,” Angus chimed in.

 

I would’ve felt warm and fuzzy with all the attention from the cute guys, but I figured their consideration had more to do with my possibly getting another unwelcome visitor than with their wanting to be near me. “Thanks.”

 

They walked with me down the hall to the elevator.

 

“Will you be stirring up the crowd again?” Derek asked, his lips pursed in a smirk. I wished I didn’t find that look so damned attractive.

 

“No, this is a book arts class.”

 

“Sounds interesting,” Angus said, clearly lying.

 

“It’s arts and crafts,” I explained. “Everyone gets to make a small, accordion-style album.”

 

“Are there weapons involved?” Derek asked.

 

I thought about it. “If you consider X-Acto knives and bone folders weapons, then yes. Oh, and glue sticks.”

 

“Ah, then I’ll be there,” he said.

 

I laughed. “Oh, good times for you.”

 

“Be careful, Brooklyn,” Angus said as the elevator door opened. “You’ve an enemy here who’s growing more reckless by the hour.”

 

With that happy thought, Derek and I stepped into the elevator and rode it up to my floor.

 

Once inside my room, he watched as I gathered my supplies and materials for the twenty participants who’d signed up for the class to make their own small, accordion-style album. I’d packed everything in one satchel: forty four-by-four-inch pieces of neutral book board; the acid-free paper used for the book pages, already scored; twenty sets of decorative Japanese papers for the covers, already cut to size; and ribbon to tie each album closed. In addition, I would supply all the tools necessary to complete the project, including twenty sets of glue sticks, X-Acto knives and bone folders, which were lightweight tools usually shaped like tongue depressors and often made from bone, that were used for folding and scoring paper and to give the fold a sharper, more professional crease. I also had plenty of scrap paper, pencils and rulers.