“I can skim,” I hedged, hating to admit that I didn’t like to read books on a screen. As a bookbinder, I was partial to holding the book in my hand. I liked the feel of paper and leather and cloth. But I wasn’t about to judge anyone else’s choices when it came to reading. Any contraption that got people to read was a good thing.
We reached the sidewalk and I spied Derek’s black Bentley a few parking spots down the hill. I gave Ian a quick hug. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t forget lunch.”
“I’ve already made reservations for eleven thirty.”
I turned. “Oh, but I’m buying.”
He chuckled. “I’m happy to let you buy. I just called ahead to make sure we get the best table in the house.”
“Wonderful.” It was good to have friends in high places.
? ? ?
“And we’re clear!” Angie pressed her fingers to her earpiece to listen for a moment, then announced loudly, “We’ll shoot the next segment on the kitchen stage in fifteen minutes, people. Fifteen minutes!”
I had finished the research for my next book segment earlier, so Derek and I could remain onstage to watch some of the other experts on camera. It was a nice change from being cooped up in my dressing room.
A flurry of excited voices rose behind us. Tish was walking into the studio, and even though she looked wiped out and had a bandage taped across her temple, I felt a flood of relief at seeing her.
She leaned heavily on Kenny’s arm as she greeted her close friends, but then left them all and approached me.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I had to give your coat to the police. They thought they might be able to retrieve a fingerprint from the leather strap around the neck or one of the buttons.”
“I hope they can,” I said, and gave her a light hug. “But please don’t worry about the coat. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“I’m getting there.”
I glanced around, then leaned closer. “Did you get a look at the person who attacked you?”
“I didn’t. The police asked me all kinds of questions, but I was no help at all.”
“Did you hear anything? Footsteps or breathing or a car taking off or . . . anything?”
She pursed her lips in thought. “I thought I heard someone coughing, but that could’ve been the guard.”
“I know I’m being a nudge, but did you smell anything unusual? Perfume or garlic or something?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. I did. I smelled cigarette smoke. I remember thinking it was weird because I don’t know anyone who smokes anymore.”
“See? You know more than you thought you did.”
“Wow, you’re good, Brooklyn. You should be a cop.”
I almost laughed out loud, imagining what Inspector Lee would say to that.
Tish and Kenny wandered over to the gaffer’s podium and I turned to Derek. “It was Grizzly—I know it was. I saw him smoking a cigarette out on the steps of the Hall of Justice.”
“A lot of people smoke, darling,” Derek said, playing devil’s advocate, no doubt.
“Yes, but not a lot of smokers go looking for someone in a red raincoat so they can knock her unconscious.” Angry all over again at the picture of that big creep attacking Tish, I bared my teeth. “I can’t wait to see that slug behind bars with his creepy brother.”
“Nor can I.”
“I’m sick of just waiting around for him to attack again.” Saying the words aloud jogged my memory, reminding me of my idea of luring Lug Nut out into the open using myself as bait. I could still carry out the plan with Grizzly.
Derek was studying my expression and his own turned icy. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?”
“Using yourself as bait.”
I blinked, astonished and annoyed that he could guess my thoughts so accurately. “Why would you think I would ever do that?”
“Because I know you too well.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “And sometimes you scare me to death.”
? ? ?
An hour later, I left my dressing room, carrying the next book I would be appraising. It was a Geneva Bible from 1583, and it was huge. Over fifteen inches tall and ten inches wide, it was five inches thick and the heaviest book I’d ever appraised. I was hoping the book’s owner and the show’s producers would enjoy this segment as much as I planned to.
I’d been told by the producers that the show didn’t usually appraise family Bibles because they didn’t have much commercial value. In the late eighteen hundreds they were being mass-produced and many families had been able to buy one. In general, they were well made with good-quality paper and leather and often remained in the family for generations. But other than their sentimental value, they weren’t worth a lot.
This Geneva Bible was different. I knew there were books similar to this one out there, but I’d personally never seen anything like it before. It gave me a thrill just to hold it in my hands.