I felt so much calmer sitting in my workshop than I’d felt talking to Inspector Lee a few minutes earlier. I really enjoyed her company and wanted us to be great friends and go shopping and hang out, but she tested me at every step. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was just the nature of our relationship, and I was up to the challenge. Besides, to be fair, I no doubt caused her some indigestion, too. After all, how many friends did she have who kept discovering bodies? Because what was friendship all about anyway?
Mom and Meg were off exploring the neighborhood and Dad and John had taken a walk down to the Giants’ stadium, so I had a few hours to get some work done.
Before I gathered up any of the supplies I would need in order to create my matchbook box, I grabbed my sketchbook and began to draw out exactly what I wanted to make. Sometimes it helped to have a concept rather than diving in blind. I’d done plenty of blind diving, too, but I knew what I wanted this time around and I intended to make it look fantastic.
I hadn’t done a matchbook box in a while, so I figured it wouldn’t be as easy as constructing one of the clamshell boxes I regularly built for special projects.
But the earthiness of the handmade playing cards called for something different and artsy.
I envisioned the gallery display with the box partially opened and the cards inside easily seen. Maybe two or three could be scattered around the box. My accordion book would pop up from its special place on top of the box.
I began sketching out some ideas of what the final pieces would look like. There would be a box to hold the playing cards, and that box would slide into an open-ended case. The case would contain an additional cut-out space on top to hold the small accordion book made from handmade paper.
The accordion book would be small, about two by three inches in size, and extend out to fifty-three pages, making it quite thick. I decided I’d better start with the accordion book and go backward from there so that I wouldn’t accidentally make the box too small.
With an accordion book of fifty-three pages, there was no way I could make one continuous piece of handmade paper and fold it accordion-style. I could always build a new wooden frame, but in this case it would mean making a frame that was 106 inches long. That was over eight feet long. And that was crazy.
I would have to make numerous twelve-inch pieces and glue them together to build a 106-inch accordion book. The gluing process would be critical. I didn’t want anyone viewing the piece to be able to see where the glue had been applied.
To cover the box, I wanted to use part paper and part morocco leather. I had a beautiful piece of black goatskin that was soft and pliable. It would be gorgeous as a highlight to the pale pink handmade paper. The paper would have to be thinner and more easily manipulated than the thick paper I’d created for the playing cards.
“You have your work cut out for you,” I muttered. But that was just the way I liked it.
After spreading my pages of drawings across the worktable, I happened to glance up at the clock and realized that an hour had passed. This was just one reason why I loved my work. I could zone out and leave the worries of the world behind me.
The security phone rang just then, bringing all those worries back. I ran to the kitchen to answer it and was pleased to see Inspector Lee standing there. “Guess what I’ve got for you.”
“You got it? You got the book?”
She laughed. “Let me in, Brooklyn.”
“Yes, definitely. Come in.” I pressed the button to release the door and she disappeared from the screen. A few minutes later, I was waiting at the door of my apartment as she got out of the elevator and walked my way.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” I said.
“You’re the one doing all the work.”
I grinned. “Well, then, you’re welcome.”
“Funny.” She followed me into the workshop and watched as I pulled a clean white cloth from the drawer and spread it on the table. I set the book down on the cloth and walked over to my desk, where I found my strongest magnifying glass and set it down next to the book.
“So what’s with this book?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just know that Bonnie gave one book to Eddie and another one to Terrence. And then somehow Terrence’s book disappeared and Joey ended up with a book. But whose book belongs to whom? That is the question.”
She spread her hands out on the worktable. “Why don’t you just ask Bonnie?”
I smiled ruefully. “I guess that would make sense, but I don’t trust her to tell me the truth.”
“Because of what Kitty said? About her killing her husband? We don’t have any proof of that. It’s just a rumor at this point.”
“I know.” I wasn’t so unfair, I hoped, to judge someone on another person’s opinion. “It’s not just that. I mean, of course we don’t even know if it’s true. But now that you mention it, I’m not sure I trust Kitty, either.”
“I don’t blame you.” Inspector Lee sighed a little. “I guess I’ll pay them each a visit again.”
“You’d probably get an honest answer. Maybe.” I shrugged because I really didn’t know anymore. “But here’s the thing. Bonnie is super aggressive around men. Nothing wrong with that, I guess. But she really bugs Derek. He avoids her like a nest of wasps. And I seriously believe she pulled a fast one on Terrence.” I stopped and thought about it. “And now I’m wondering if she also pulled a fast one on Eddie.”
“So you’re saying you’re not comfortable talking to her.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not.” I chuckled and added, “Even though it makes me sound like a wimp.”
“Hey, nobody wants to hang around a wasps’ nest.” She shuddered dramatically.
I chuckled. “Thanks for that.”
“No worries. I’d better get going. Thanks for the work you’re putting in on this.”
“No problem.” I walked with her to the door. “Hey, since I’m sort of helping you out here, do you want to designate me as a civilian police consultant or something?”
She snorted a laugh. “No. But thanks for your support.”
I grinned. “Just checking.”
“Yeah. Good try, though.” She pulled the door open, then turned. “So you think you’ll be finished with the book sometime tomorrow?”
“I’ll make sure I’m done by noon.”
“Okay. I’ll swing by and pick it up around then.”
I walked with her out to the elevator. “Look, I’m sure Eddie gave you a hard time about taking the book, so thanks again.”
“Hey, it’s always fun intimidating the public,” she said, stepping into the elevator.
“Glad I could help with that,” I said, laughing again.
• • •
Twenty minutes later, Derek walked in and set a book down on my worktable. I took a quick look and then did a double take. “Are you kidding?”
He grinned. “Nope.”
“But how?” I picked up the book and pressed it to my heart. “Where did you find it?”
“I slipped into Terrence’s apartment while he was diverted. The book was sitting on top of his bedroom dresser, buried under a stack of magazines and unopened mail. I was a bit surprised, but there it was.”
“That’s amazing.” I stared at the cover and checked the spine. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “I just knew he took it from Joey. When I was looking at Eddie’s book earlier today, Terrence did his usual routine, except instead of saying he ‘used to have a book like this,’ he said, ‘I have a book like that.’”
“Ah, he gave himself away. Subtle, but telling.” He rubbed my shoulders. “Good job, love.”
“Thanks.” I gazed up at him, smiling. “But why would he throw a stack of magazines on top of a priceless book if it’s so important to him?”
“I have no idea. His entire apartment is quite messy. More proof that he’s a bit of an oddball?”
“Maybe. I’m just amazed and impressed that you found the book at all. You are a master cat burglar.” I slowly replayed what he had just said. “Wait. How did you divert him?”
Meg and Mom walked in just then, looking flushed and happy.
“Oh, that was such fun,” Meg said as she unwrapped her wool scarf from around her neck. “Thank you, Derek.”
“You were a natural, Meg,” Mom said, laughing. “You should’ve seen her, Brooklyn. She had both of those men at her beck and call. I was so proud of you.”
Meg batted her eyelashes demurely and we all laughed. “Thank you, Becky. But you’re no slouch yourself. I thought your line to Eddie about there being so many handsome men in this city was perfect. He was practically preening like a cat in front of you.”
I glanced from Derek to the moms, almost afraid to ask. “What did you do?”
“It was Derek’s idea,” Mom said, grinning. “He needed us to create a diversion for a few minutes and we were happy to provide that service.”
I stared at Derek, slightly appalled that he’d enlisted our mothers, but too pleased about the book to give him any real grief. Well, not too much anyway. “You could’ve been caught. I should’ve been with you to watch the door.”
“Believe it or not, love, I’d broken into my share of buildings long before I had such lovely backup to call on.” He gave me a quick hug. “I took a chance, you see. And our mothers were right there in the pinch. It worked out quite well. I was in and out of his apartment in less than two minutes.”
I had to admit, it had been a great plan. Our moms had gotten the excitement they’d been craving and the chance to be a part of “the case.” And Derek had gotten the book. So really, I was in no position to complain.
“He’s really careless, isn’t he?” I turned the book over and stared at the back cover. “I’m stunned that he didn’t have this locked up.”
“So am I, frankly,” Derek said. “But grateful as well.”
I shook my head. “After all his whining about losing the book, he doesn’t even keep it safe. I mean, it worked in our favor, but it just doesn’t make sense.”
Derek leaned against my worktable. “I suppose he thought it was safe enough behind the locked door of his apartment.”
“He thought wrong,” I murmured. “He’ll have a cow when he discovers it missing, but we’ll get it back to him soon enough.”
Mom pulled the band off her windblown ponytail and fluffed her hair back. “We’re happy to go back tomorrow and divert him again if you need to return the book.”
“Yes, we’d be delighted to help,” Meg agreed.
Mom grabbed her hand. “Wasn’t that exciting?”
“I feel like we’re starring in a caper,” Meg exclaimed, squeezing Mom’s hand. “It’s like Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant in that fabulous movie.”
“I love that movie.” Mom linked arms with her and the two of them strolled back to the living room. “We should watch it. Have some wine and popcorn and chillax.”
I glanced at Derek, who was holding one hand over his eyes.
“Don’t look away.” I laughed. “It’s too late. You must reap what you have sown.”
He bent down, rested his forehead against mine. “And now you’re quoting the Bible? Excellent. I don’t feel guilty at all.”
I heard Mom and Meg’s trilling laughter, and it made me smile. “It’s okay. You really made their day.”
“I know.” He straightened, shook his head, and began to chuckle. “They’ll feast on this one for years to come.”
• • •
I spent the rest of the afternoon in my workshop studying the two books. My initial excitement was tamped down by my need to work fast and compare the two books side by side.
I had to admit I had been shocked earlier, but also a little impressed, to hear that Derek had snuck into Terrence’s apartment in broad daylight while the man was working downstairs at the bookshop. And I still couldn’t believe that the book had just been sitting on top of a dresser. Terrence hadn’t gone to any trouble to hide it, and why would he? He couldn’t have known that a master spy would be sneaking around his apartment at two o’clock on a sunny afternoon.
The first thing I noticed without even opening the two books was that Terrence’s Alice was quite a bit shabbier than Eddie’s, especially around the corners and along the spine. The headband was frayed. The gilding on the spine was faded and the leather in spots was rubbed. But the more I studied it, the less all that seemed to matter.
When I opened the book to check out the endpapers, I almost fainted at the sight of a bookplate with Bonnie’s name pasted on the front inside cover.
“What is wrong with her?” I muttered. She had managed to diminish the book’s value by at least five percent. And she’s a book person, I thought. There was no excuse for it.
I stared at the bookplate, which was a common-looking square showing a unicorn and a stack of books and a place to write one’s name. Among serious collectors, a pasted-in bookplate with the owner’s name on it was considered defacing an otherwise fine book.
Finally, I shrugged. Just because someone owned a bookshop and sold books didn’t mean they knew anything about the care and repair of fine bindings.
Bonnie did seem to have an affinity for certain books and authors, though, which was nice. She obviously had collected at least two excellent copies of Alice in Wonderland over the years, and maybe some other titles, too. But other than making them look pretty on a shelf, she had no knowledge of the most basic tenets of book conservation. She wouldn’t even be considered a hobbyist, since most of the people I knew who called themselves book hobbyists knew enough to keep bookplates out of their books. The serious hobbyist took pride in his books, stored them in clear archival covers, and tried to follow the rules handed down by the best book conservationists in the country.
The only good thing about Bonnie’s bookplate was that it confirmed that she had owned the book and had apparently passed it on to Terrence. The question was, how did the book get from Terrence to Joey? Did Bonnie steal it back from Terrence? Did Joey?
I looked up as another possibility occurred. “Did Eddie steal it?”
I couldn’t think of a reason Eddie would have done that, except to torment his poor brother-in-law. Unless he was in cahoots with Bonnie, playing tricks behind Terrence’s back, I couldn’t picture Eddie as the bad guy. I knew Eddie and Terrence were argumentative, but Eddie had never seemed that vindictive.
Well, until the other morning, when both of them had said some pretty awful things to each other.
I picked up my magnifying glass and carefully paged through Terrence’s book. On page 134, I found a fingerprint and made a note to show it to Derek. He might be able to use his fingerprinting kit to discover whose it was. Without ruining the paper, I hoped.
Besides being in better condition on the outside, Eddie’s book was, overall, more vibrant than Terrence’s. The illustrations were brighter and the print was crisper in Eddie’s copy. Terrence’s copy seemed a little world-weary, if I could attach such a characteristic to an inanimate object.
I wasn’t trying to attribute the differences in the books to their individual personalities, but I couldn’t help it. The fact was that Eddie was a little brighter than Terrence, with a better sense of humor. Terrence was a bit stodgy and stubborn and, yes, frayed around the edges. He worried more and didn’t seem to enjoy life as much as Eddie did.
Their books seemed to reflect those character traits. But I absolutely refused to believe that Bonnie had actually considered those qualities when she’d handed out the books. She just wasn’t that insightful.
Despite those variances between the books, the paper in both volumes was an equally lovely thick vellum and the covers were both finely bound in quality scarlet red morocco leather. I already knew that Eddie’s book had been bound by the renowned bookbinder to Queen Mary, George Bayntun, while Terrence’s copy had been bound by the arguably even more famous company Sangorski and Sutcliffe. The binders’ names were stamped in tiny letters on the inner flyleaf page of each book.
I was pleased to see that with Terrence’s copy, the bindery had included the original cloth book covers in the rebinding. These days, unlike in Victorian times, a book in its original binding was often considered more valuable than if that same book had been rebound in leather. The exception was when an important bookbinder—such as Sangorski and Sutcliffe—had done the work.
I closed both books and stared for a long time at the covers. It was amazing how similar they were, and I wondered again about Bonnie. Why did she collect such expensive books only to give them away for sexual favors? The thought made me feel a little queasy.
I was about to quit for the day when I realized that I hadn’t compared the title pages. I hadn’t even considered it important since I thought they would be exactly the same. I turned to the page in Terrence’s book and gasped.
“No way,” I whispered, picking my chin off the floor. I repeated it louder. “No way!”
I shook my head and closed my eyes for a long moment. “You are a dingbat.” Why hadn’t I checked this sooner? I had been so sure that the books were the same that I hadn’t even bothered.
“No wonder the illustrations in Terrence’s book are dull,” I muttered, turning to those pages and comparing them with Eddie’s.
Terrence’s book had been published in 1865.
My vision spun and I had to blink a few times to be sure. Yes, it was true. Terrence’s book was one of the lost first editions. The ones that Lewis Carroll had famously sent back to the publisher when he’d found that the illustrations of John Tenniel’s delicate pencil work had been poorly reproduced. The printer had retraced Tenniel’s work onto new woodblocks and then engraved those onto electrotype plates, using them as masters. The second attempt was more successful and those new books were then published as first editions.
But some of the original versions had filtered out to the public. It was thought that there were possibly two dozen of the original versions left in the world, maybe fewer. So whereas Eddie’s book might have been worth thirty thousand dollars at auction, Terrence’s book could have been worth anywhere from several hundred thousand to two million dollars.
Which meant that Terrence’s book was beyond rare and infinitely more valuable.
• • •
“I don’t understand,” Meg said. “Lewis Carroll sent the books back?”
Over a glass of wine, I had explained the difference between the two books to Derek and our parents. “Yes, Lewis Carroll sent them back. You see, John Tenniel was a famous illustrator in Victorian England. He was most renowned for his political cartoons, but he had agreed to illustrate Alice in Wonderland, and Lewis Carroll wanted the very best-quality books out on the market.
“Tenniel and Carroll—whose real name was Charles Dodgson, by the way—immediately recognized that the work had been badly reproduced, so Lewis Carroll shipped everything back to the publisher and asked that the books be destroyed and new ones reprinted. Apparently, though, he had already distributed several dozen books to family and friends before the problem was realized.”
Meg frowned. “So the fact that there are so few copies of the first book makes it much rarer and substantially more valuable than virtually the exact same book that is prettier and cleaner and newer by a few measly months.”
I smiled. “Yes. Terrence’s copy is a true first edition. Eddie’s is considered a first edition, second issue. It makes all the difference in the world.”
“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Meg said, clutching Mom’s hand.
“It’s a mystery and a miracle,” Mom murmured.
Meg nodded. “Well said, Becky.”
• • •
The following day, Inspector Lee came by to pick up Eddie’s book about noon to return it to him. Derek and I had debated whether to tell her about Terrence’s book, and we ended up spilling the beans. I mentioned how much money the book was worth at auction, and she blinked, then shook her head in disbelief. After a quick rant, she insisted that we stop talking because she really didn’t want to hear how we had obtained something so off-the-charts rare and valuable. She probably had a sneaking suspicion, but now her biggest concern was in keeping the extremely valuable book safe. I offered to tuck it away in my home safe, and she agreed. The alternative was to leave it in the trunk of her car all day while she drove down to Santa Cruz to spend the day with friends. She wasn’t sure what she would tell Terrence. Perhaps she would let him sit and stew for a day or two. But she did assure us that she and Derek and I would be having another conversation very soon. At that time, she would explain the limits of our participation in her criminal investigations from now on. After she left, I breathed freely for the first time since she’d arrived. And Derek admitted we were lucky she hadn’t carted us off to jail right then and there.
• • •
An hour later, Derek and I took the parents to high tea at the Garden Court in the Palace Hotel. There were plenty of lovely places to have tea in San Francisco, but the Garden Court was at the top of the list. The massive open space was famous for its spectacular stained-glass dome ceiling. Sparkling crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and thick Italian marble columns lined the room. It was a fun way to treat Derek’s parents to a bit of San Francisco opulence and I was determined to forget about all of the scary, bad things that were happening in our neighborhood and enjoy myself. The tea service was wonderfully fancy, with savory tea sandwiches followed by dessert scones, delicate pastries, and pots of tea, of course.
I wore my new hat and both Mom and Meg went wild over it. Derek loved it, too. I considered that a grand slam and silently thanked Kitty for her insistence that I buy it.
I also wore my serviceable burgundy pumps and praised all the gods of heaven that Inspector Lee had rescued them from an uncertain future in Joey’s shoe repair shop. Meg had won my gratitude when she complimented me on my shoes the first time I wore them, but now I wondered if she might have been having doubts about my fashion sense, since I was wearing them for the third time this week. I couldn’t worry too much, though, because my shoes were just so comfortable. Still, I tucked my feet under the tablecloth and tried to concentrate on my pretty new hat instead of my boring old shoes.
While we dined, Mom and Meg chatted about different pagan rituals they’d witnessed. They shared their guidelines on tarot card readings and their personal choice of familiars. Sure enough, Mom regaled Meg with stories of her astral travels with her spirit guide, Ramlar X, and Meg shared her numerous psychic encounters. I was completely fascinated, watching them interact as though they’d known each other all their lives. Strangely enough, I enjoyed their camaraderie way too much to be weirded out by the subject matter of their conversation. It was just amazing to see them laugh and share their secrets with each other. Their relationship boded well for future family gatherings.
And meanwhile, we demolished every bit of food on the table.
“Oh, wasn’t this outstanding?” Meg said, leaning back in her chair. “Everything was so yummy. Excellent choice, kids.”
Mom sighed and patted her stomach. “I couldn’t get enough of those curried chicken sandwiches. I may regret it later, but right now I’m suffused with joy.”
“Suffused with joy,” Dad murmured. “Good one, Becky. I personally was suffused with those puffy round purple things.”
“Those were outstanding,” John agreed. “But the mini napoleons were my favorites.”
I smiled, happy that everyone was enjoying themselves.
“Brooklyn, dear,” Meg said, pulling a small bag out from under the table. “I’ve brought you a gift from home and I think this is the perfect time to give it to you.”
I was taken aback. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“But I wanted to,” she said, then winked. “I think it will prove beyond a shadow of doubt that my psychic abilities are strong.”
I was sure I looked gobsmacked. I’d picked up that word from Derek. British slang fit the occasion so perfectly sometimes. “But . . . but I never had any doubt about your abilities.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re a sweetheart.” She handed me a wrapped package that was shaped suspiciously like a book. “Here you are. I hope you’ll be pleased.”
I stared at the gift. “This is so nice of you. Thank you.”
“You haven’t opened it yet.”
“Then I’d better get to it.” I carefully unwrapped the ribbon and pulled the paper off. And stared at the book Meg had chosen for me.
“Oh, Meg, how thoughtful,” Mom murmured.
“I think it suits her,” she whispered. “It’s a sweet old book. Not a first edition or anything fancy, of course, but wonderful.”
“Alice Through the Looking-Glass,” I said. It was a vintage copy of the book, and it appeared to be in very good condition. It didn’t look like a terribly pricey purchase, thank goodness, but the red cloth cover was still bright and smooth and the pages were straight and clean. “You couldn’t have given me a more perfect gift.”
Pushing my chair back, I walked over and gave her a wholehearted hug. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m so glad you like it.”
“I love it.”
“You really are psychic, Meg,” my mom declared. “I never doubted it for a minute. I had a feeling about it from the first minute we met.”
“As did I, Becky,” Meg said. “As did I.”
“I sometimes get a tingling in my left shoulder blade,” Mom said. “That’s when I know I’m in the presence of something mystical.”
“Isn’t that fascinating?” Meg leaned closer. “My little toe begins to twinge.”
And they were off on another spiritual tangent. Watching them, I had to admit that Meg bringing me this particular book, a continuation of the Alice in Wonderland story, did strike me as more than coincidental. So whether or not Derek was willing to believe in his mom’s abilities, I was ready to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Derek reached over and squeezed my hand. “That is a lovely gift.”
“Isn’t it?” I gazed at the book. “I’m blown away.” And I wondered what the chances were that she’d just happened to pick that very book, out of every other book in the small shop on Oxford High Street.
• • •
“I’m going to run across the street to check on Terrence,” I announced after we’d been home a few minutes. “Now that Eddie has his book back, I want to make sure Terrence’s head hasn’t exploded over his missing book.”
“I just have to make a quick phone call,” Derek said, “and then I’ll follow you over there.”
“I hope so.”
“I’d love to go with you,” Meg said. Smiling at my mother, she added, “Becky, care to take a walk?”
“I think I’m going to take a short nap. You and Brooklyn go along and enjoy yourselves.”
My mother never took naps, so I was pretty sure she just wanted Meg and me to have a few minutes together. And I loved her for being so thoughtful.
“What fun,” Meg said, linking her arm through mine. “I’m still so stuffed from tea, but while we’re out, we might think about picking up a little something for dinner later.”
“We could get something light, like bowls of soup from the Thai restaurant,” I said. “Although I’m not hungry at all yet.”
“I’m not, either, but soup sounds delicious,” Meg said. “Or it will, I hope, once I’ve digested my tea.”
We walked out to the sidewalk and waited for the traffic to clear. As we stood on the curb and chatted, I noticed Bonnie across the street talking to a man. The same man she’d been with at Sweetie Pies the morning before. Their conversation appeared flirtatious, but maybe that was just my imagination, given my knowledge of Bonnie. The man finally walked away, and Bonnie moved closer in our direction, standing on the opposite side of the street from us. I waved at her until she saw me and gave a weak wave back.
“Let’s go,” I said to Meg. “Do you see that woman walking our way? She’s the one who owns the building.”
“Ah,” she said. “The infamous Bonnie, then. The one who gives books out to men who satisfy her.”
I laughed. “That’s about the size of it.”
We’d almost made it across one lane when I suddenly heard a car engine revving up. I turned and saw a small black foreign car come screeching toward Bonnie at the other end of the crosswalk.
I screamed, “Bonnie! Move!”
But she was staring at her phone and didn’t notice, so I yelled at Meg to get back on the sidewalk and raced across the street. I shoved Bonnie back toward the curb just as the car streaked by us.
She fell backward on her butt and I went down, too. I could feel the tender skin on my leg and knew I’d scraped myself up, but at least I was alive. So was Bonnie.
The black car raced away, its tires squealing as it spun around the corner and disappeared.
Meg dashed over and quickly ran her hands up and down my body, checking for breaks. “Are you hurt? Oh my God—that car could’ve killed you both.”
“What the hell?” Bonnie muttered, a little dazed. “Why did you push me?”
I just gaped at her for a second. Really? Was she that oblivious? “You were going to get run over by that car. I shouted for you to move but you didn’t hear me. Didn’t you see it?”
She squinted, and I wondered if she’d hit her head on the pavement. “I heard something. Screeching brakes? Something.” She shook her head and took a few deep breaths.
I stood and held my hand out. “Here, let me help you.” I pulled her up and we all walked a few feet over to the sidewalk.
“I’ve never seen anything so awful,” Meg cried. “He almost ran you down.” She helped brush dirt and bits of blacktop off of Bonnie’s pants.
Bonnie looked dismayed. “I guess I owe you one.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt too badly.”
“I think my butt will be black-and-blue for a while, but I’ll survive.”
“That was horrible,” Meg cried. “That person didn’t even watch where he was going.”
I scowled. “On the contrary, I think he knew exactly where he was going.”
Bonnie stared at me. “What do you mean? You think it was deliberate?”
I watched her to judge her reaction. “Yes, I think they saw you coming, aimed the car, and sped up to hit you.”
She looked completely confused and a bit worried. “But . . . why?”
I just stared at her for a moment until I finally saw a spark of awareness in her eyes.
“You really think someone’s trying to kill me?” Bonnie looked around as if half expecting some killer to jump out at her. I couldn’t really blame her.
“Who was that man you were with?” I asked, no longer caring if I was being nosy or not.
“Who?” She blinked again. “Oh, Stan. We just met. He’s . . . um, he’s a developer with Sequoia. No big deal. Wanted to know if I would sell the building. I said no and that’s the end of it.”
Sequoia, I thought. That was the “tree” name Colin had been trying to think of. Sequoia was only one of the biggest property development firms in the city. What was Bonnie doing with that guy? And why was she lying, saying that she’d just met him? I’d seen her with him before today. But I couldn’t confront her on that issue just now, so I pivoted to another subject. “Where were you going just now?”
“To pick up a pizza, if it’s any of your business.”
I ignored that. “Did you call in an order?”
“Yeah. I order from Pete a lot. He’s the best. Always gives me extra sausage.”
I was doing some fast thinking. “Who else knew you were having pizza tonight?”
She thought for a minute, then winced. “Just about everyone in the building. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a shrinking violet. I tend to broadcast whatever I’m doing, so when I decided to have pizza for dinner, I guess I made sure everyone knew about it.” She shrugged. “That’s just me.”
“I understand.” And she was right. Bonnie wasn’t the most circumspect person in the world. “So who did you tell?”
“So let’s see.” She frowned as she tried to remember. “I mentioned it to Colin while Dr. Wan—he’s our acupuncturist—was ordering an apple pie. And I told Eddie and Terrence while I was in the bookshop. Oh, wait. Kitty was there, too, with one of her customers, showing her some fashion book or something. And the Beanery baristas knew about it because I stopped in there for a shot of espresso a little while ago.”
I pinched my lips together in frustration. “So basically it could’ve been anyone.”
“Basically?” Bonnie sighed. “Yeah.”
I pulled out my phone and called Inspector Lee. Our new friendship was about to be tested again.