“Oh, great.” She stopped writing. “So basically he spelled it out for everyone.”
“Yeah. The creep who attacked me admitted that he ‘used the Google’ to figure out that whole amount.”
“The Google, huh?” She gave me a half smile.
“Yeah.” I could see that she got the joke.
After taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “Sounds like we’ve got a motive for murder.”
I smiled grimly. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, tell me more about the book itself,” she said.
“It’s a really rare, limited edition of The Secret Garden.”
Her eyes widened. “The Secret Garden is a kids’ book. This guy was supposedly willing to kill for a kids’ book?”
“Yes.” I braced myself, afraid I was about to get more book grief.
Instead, she smiled as her gaze drifted. “I loved that book when I was a kid. Must’ve read it a hundred times.”
“Me, too,” I said, pleasantly surprised that we had something else in common.
She waved over one of the uniformed officers who had just entered the shop. After writing something down, she tore the page out of her notepad and handed it to him. “Do me a favor, will you? Track these two uniforms down and find out when’s the soonest I can talk to them. They probably work out of Bayview, but if not, try Mission or Ingleside. They interviewed Ms. Wainwright Tuesday at Peapod Studios near Potrero Hill, and I want to know if they made it over here to interview our victim.”
He stared at the page, then said, “You got it, ma’am.”
“Thanks, Trent.”
The cop jogged out to the patrol car to make the call.
Inspector Lee turned back to me. “That’s some good work, Wainwright.” She smirked. “We might get you that junior-deputy badge one of these days after all.”
I patted my heart. “A girl can dream.”
Chapter Eight
After the medical examiner and his assistant arrived at the shop with their gurney and bags of equipment, it was too crowded to remain inside. And even if it wasn’t, I had no interest in watching them perform their gruesome tasks, so I stepped outside for some fresh air. Inspector Lee had told me to hang around for a while. I wasn’t sure why that was necessary, but I wasn’t about to disobey a direct order. I reminded her that I would need my shoes back as soon as possible and she saluted smartly.
Outside, the cold, rough surface of the sidewalk was another reminder that I had only my stocking-thin socks for protection. I walked cautiously back to my car, where I kept a pair of sneakers in the trunk for emergencies. Sitting in the front seat, I slipped on my shoes. The simple action brought a graphic image to my mind of Vera’s feet in her flashy knockoff Louboutins.
“They were the first thing I bought myself after I left my no-good boyfriend.”
I could still hear Vera’s voice in my head. She had told me and Angie about her shoes that first night at the television studio. She had been so excited about the book appraisal, so ready to sell the book, make some money, and turn the page on her old life.
Poor Vera. I squeezed my eyes closed, but I couldn’t erase the image of her lying on the chilly cement floor of her shop, after bleeding to death.
So much blood.
I rubbed my arms where goose bumps had taken up permanent residency. From experience, I knew the images of Vera’s blood-soaked blouse, her sightless eyes, and her brand-new fake Louboutins would stay with me for weeks.
Locking my car, I headed back to the shop to see what else Inspector Lee needed from me. I was still a little shell-shocked, still couldn’t believe I had found another murder victim. It had become a habit with me, but I would never be able to accept it as normal. How could anyone get used to finding dead bodies? And not just dead, but violently killed. Murdered. No, unless you were an undertaker or a homicide cop, it wasn’t something you ever wanted to get used to.
“Brooklyn.”
I stopped at the sound of that deep voice. Turning, I saw Derek walking purposefully toward me and noticed his black Bentley was parked a few spaces down the street.
“Derek.” I met him halfway.
“Come here, love,” he said, and hugged me close. Rubbing my back, he whispered, “Are you all right?”
I shook my head, upset about Vera, but so grateful that he had insisted on joining me. “Can you believe it?”
“Frankly, no,” he muttered.
“I can’t, either.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I didn’t know her very well, but I liked her.”
“I’m sorry, love.”
I lifted my head from his shoulder and we walked to the flower shop. “The one good thing is that I know who did it. It’s that hulking creep who attacked me at the studio. He warned me that he would come after us both.”
Derek said nothing at first but kept his arm around my shoulders as we walked.