“I’m not—”
“My love, I’ll say it again: You’re the world’s worst liar.” He took hold of my arm and led me away to a quieter spot. “The fact is, you simply can’t help sticking your pretty little nose into places it doesn’t belong. I understand the appeal of investigating a murder, but you could get yourself hurt. So I’m inclined to advise you against it.”
“But—”
“You appear to have a short-term memory problem, so let me remind you of a certain psychopathic killer who had you trapped in St. Margaret’s Chapel in Edinburgh not so very long ago.”
I shuddered, then glanced around to make sure we weren’t being overheard. “Of course I remember that.”
“I’m glad.”
“But that was a completely different situation. This time I’m not involved. I’m not a suspect. I’m just concerned about being the common factor among three attacks in less than a week.”
“You?” He shook his head as if to rearrange his brain cells. “You think you’re the cause of these attacks?”
“No, not the cause. But don’t you think it’s strange that I’m the one who found all three victims?”
“Strange, yes. Connected, no.” He pointed toward the small cluster of cops who’d just walked into the party. “There’s Inspector Lee. Let’s go see if she can be charmed into sharing her latest findings with us.”
“That’s why I keep you around, sport,” I said.
“Music to my ears, my dear.”
I stared at him. “Music.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Yes, let’s go see the inspector,” I said. I placed my empty glass on a nearby tray and took off across the room.
He caught up with me in two strides. “You’re in a hurry all of a sudden.”
“I just put something together.”
“So you did get something out of Minka.”
“Maybe.”
Taking hold of my arm, he took a detour, pulling me down the hall and into an empty classroom. “What is it?” he demanded.
“Minka said she heard music coming from Layla’s office just before she was attacked. But I just remembered that by the time I came down the hall and found her, there was no music playing. So someone turned off Layla’s stereo in the interim.”
“The person who attacked Minka.”
“It’s a long shot, but if the power button is a smooth surface, they might’ve left a fingerprint.”
He gave me a mind-blowing kiss. “That’s why I keep you around, sport.”
I laughed and took his hand. “Let’s go talk to the police.”
After Inspector Lee assured us that the fingerprint crew would be here shortly, Derek went off to make a phone call and I joined the party, entering the upper gallery as Naomi, at the central podium, introduced Gunther to the crowd.
He took the microphone and in his thick Austrian accent told everyone that he intended to keep his word and conduct the lithograph classes Layla had announced last week. He added, “Layla would insist. She would probably haunt me if I did not stay.”
That got a big laugh, but Gunther looked disgruntled. I wondered if Naomi had threatened him with her aunt’s poltergeist. More than likely, he’d signed a contract and she’d threatened him with a lawsuit.
I was happy he was staying because I planned to sit in on one of his classes and learn his techniques. And more important, if Gunther stayed, then Derek would stay.
Naomi took her place back at the podium. After several calming breaths, the room hushed and she spoke. “My aunt was a woman to be reckoned with.”
There was respectful applause.
“If there’s one thing Aunt Layla would’ve insisted on, it was that the Twisted festival must carry on as scheduled.”
This was met by thunderous cheers. It seemed to feed her as she continued, “And if there’s one thing I insist on, it’s that the gala culminating the Twisted festival be even bigger than Layla planned. And Charles Dickens is going to have to share the evening’s honors with Layla Fontaine.”
Now along with the enthusiastic clapping, I could see tears glistening in the eyes of many. Who knew Naomi could rock a crowd like this? Maybe she was channeling her aunt Layla. Minus the sexual innuendo, thank God.
“Now, please enjoy yourselves as we celebrate the life of a wonderful woman and the work she did for the Bay Area Book Arts.” Naomi wore a satisfied grin as she took in the cheers and applause. She signaled the crowd to settle down so she could add, “I’ve been told that the bartenders just opened a case of 2007 Kosta Browne pinot noir. For all you wine snobs in the room, this is your moment.”
“That’s all of us,” somebody shouted.
True enough. This was San Francisco, where nine out of ten of us were inveterate wine snobs. There were laughs and cheers as the thundering hordes raced to one of the two bars in the gallery.
“That was a smart move,” Alice said from inches away.