“Yes, doesn’t it just?” So last night when I’d asked Naomi if I could buy the Oliver Twist, she’d already obtained it from the police. She had to have known exactly what book I was talking about. And judging from the dull pallor of her skin when I told her it wasn’t a first edition, I was willing to bet she’d already sold it.
It was midnight when we parked the Bentley in front of the building, so I doubted we would find Naomi at work. Inspector Lee was already there, waiting with two other cops. BABA was locked up for the night, but low lights shined through the textured glass section of the door.
Sure enough, after Inspector Lee hammered her fist on the door for almost a minute, Ned lumbered over to let us in.
“Huh,” he said. “Late.”
“Yeah, go back to sleep,” Lee said.
“ ’Kay.”
Ned trundled off and Lee led the way to Naomi’s office and pushed the door open. “You’re working late, Ms. Fontaine.”
Naomi jerked and shrieked at the same time. “You scared the hell out of me! What do you want? I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Then you won’t mind showing me what you’re working on,” Lee said. She rounded the desk and grabbed the minicomputer. I was pretty sure it was a move that wouldn’t hold up in court, but I liked it.
“You already took my work computer!” Naomi cried, trying to grab it back. “This one’s mine!”
“Looks like an Excel spreadsheet,” Lee said, and made eye contact with me as she began to read off the screen. “It’s a list of books and prices. What’s this column?” She squinted at the small screen. “Date acquired. Date purchased. Date completed.”
“We often sell our books,” Naomi whined. “It’s not a crime. The books belong to Layla. I mean, me.”
“But passing a book off as more rare or better than it really is to gain a higher price is a crime,” I said. “It’s called fraud. It’s like theft, only really worse.” Okay, I was blathering. I silently beseeched Inspector Lee to pick up the ball.
Her gaze narrowed in on Naomi. “Are you defrauding your clients, Ms. Fontaine?”
Naomi took a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t know it was fraud! Layla has all these people she sells books to, and they were calling me. They wanted their money. Or . . . or they wanted their books. One man came by and he was not kidding around. He threatened me, told me I’d be sorry if I didn’t comply, so I gave him the book he wanted.”
“The Oliver Twist?” I asked.
Her face was a mask of shock and pain. “He said Layla promised it to him. He said he already paid her part of the money, so I gave him the book and he gave me the rest of the money.”
She gasped. It was clear she wished she hadn’t brought up the money. But she had, and I believed her admission signified that she wasn’t cut out to be as wicked as her auntie Layla.
“What did this man look like?” Lee asked. “The one who gave you the money?”
“He was . . .” Naomi winced and looked away.
“Go ahead,” Lee coaxed.
She took a deep breath. “He was Asian.”
“Ah, my people,” Lee muttered. “So? Tall? Fat? Short? Bald?”
“Tall. Normal build.” She gazed up at Lee with a sycophantic smile. “He was really nice-looking.”
“Swell. Did you get a name?”
Eager to please now, Naomi nodded. “Mr. Soo.”
“And how much money did he give you?”
Naomi chewed her lower lip. Now I could see her brain calculating how much to tell us.
“How much money, Ms. Fontaine?” Lee repeated, softly this time, but with more deadly intent.
Naomi’s shoulders shook nervously. “Ten thousand dollars.”
“In cash?”
She nodded, clearly miserable at having to disclose the true amount.
“No wonder you could afford a new wardrobe,” I marveled.
“It’s my money,” she said defiantly. “I’m Layla’s next of kin, so her book business comes to me.”
“Book business,” I said in disgust. “Sounds more like a ring of book thieves.”
“I’m not a thief. The book belonged to me.”
“Did it?” I asked. “Or did it belong to BABA?”
“We should probably finish this up downtown,” Lee said. She signaled to the cop watching from just outside the office door and he came forward instantly.
“No,” Naomi cried, and burst into tears.
I couldn’t blame her. I was ninety-nine percent positive she was innocent, because as much as she’d attempted to channel Aunt Layla, trying to dress like a hooker and conduct business like a shark, Naomi just couldn’t pull it off. She’d given it her best shot, but she was missing the key ingredient, the true bitch gene.
So if Naomi was innocent, who killed Layla Fontaine?
Chapter 16
Defeated, Naomi stood and the cop walked her out the door. They didn’t handcuff her because she wasn’t being arrested. She was just being taken in for questioning.
Inspector Lee followed them out the door and down the hall. I was about to tag along when I realized they’d walked out without Naomi’s notebook computer.