“She might still be alive!” I shouted, grabbing books and chunks of wood and tossing them off to the side. “Sara, hang on!”
Derek joined me, grabbing handfuls of books at a time and placing them only slightly more gently on the floor nearby.
“We can still save her,” I whispered, lifting an armload of books and shoving them against the wall. I wanted to use more care with the books, but my priority was saving Sara. Later, I promised myself, I would stack them neatly.
“She could have been down here all night, love,” he said. “If the full weight of these crates hit her in the head, it would be a devastating blow.”
“Maybe she managed to block it enough to survive.” I refused to believe we were too late. “Let’s keep going.”
“Absolutely.”
“Maybe it’s not even Sara,” I muttered a few minutes later.
“Perhaps not,” Derek said, his optimistic tone giving me the slightest thread of hope. Still, those boots . . .
We kept working for another ten minutes until we could finally verify who was buried under all those books.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. Yes, it was definitely Sara. Still so beautiful. And horribly, completely dead.
Derek checked for a pulse, but gave up after a long moment. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”
My throat closed up and tears began to flow. I sat cross-legged on the cold floor and used my fingers to brush Sara’s hair back. “I shouldn’t touch her, but she would hate having all this hair in her face.”
Derek touched my shoulder in sympathy as he handed me his handkerchief. “I’m so sorry, love.”
“Me, too.”
An hour later the basement was lit up by a dozen portable spotlights. The air was still dank and cold, though, and I shuddered as I estimated at least a thousand books had been piled on top of poor Sara. Not to mention several heavy wooden crates that had broken apart in the fall.
“Books. It’s always books with you,” Inspector Janice Lee murmured next to me as she gazed upon the scene. I had called her immediately because, yes, I did have her number on speed dial. We were friends.
“With all due respect,” I said. “It’s usually just one book with me.”
“True. This takes it to new heights.” Shaking her head in dismay, she approached the body and stared at all the books and debris stacked around her. She took at least two dozen photographs from every angle and then turned to her officers. Even though Derek and I had managed to move the books off of Sara’s body, she was still surrounded by hundreds more, making it difficult for Inspector Lee to maneuver around her. “Can we get these books and stuff moved out of the way?”
Two uniformed officers rushed over and began moving our piles of books farther away from Sara to allow better access for the police and medical examiner.
“Carefully, please,” Inspector Lee cautioned.
I felt bad that I had thrown the books every which way and stepped forward. “I can help stack them against the wall.”
“Thanks, Brooklyn,” Lee said. “But my officers can take care of it.”
The two men took the hint and moved the books away from the body, neatly stacking them along the wall. It took them nearly twenty minutes to clean up all the piles while Inspector Lee bent down to take a closer look at Sara’s face and body.
“Will Inspector Jaglom be joining you?” Derek asked, when she stood up.
“Sadly he won’t,” Lee said. “Nate’s actually contemplating retirement.”
“Oh no,” I said, thinking about the kind man with the wiry gray hair who tended to appear slightly rumpled, but always wore a smile on his face. “He’s not that old, is he?”
“No, but he’s discovered the joys of grandfatherhood,” she explained. “And since his wife is a doctor and loves her job, he’s probably going to take his pension and run.”
“I’ll miss him,” I said.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Lee said. “I’m bummed.”
“Please send him our best regards,” Derek said.
“You bet.” Lee continued to survey the area where Sara had died. While she worked, she took the opportunity to question Derek and me. “What made you two come down here?”
I explained the whole story. “I was having my sisters and a few friends over last night and Sara texted and then called me to let me know she’d be late. Her boss was making her bring all these boxes of books over to the convention center.”
“I take it she didn’t make it to your house last night.”
“No. So I texted her a few times this morning to see if she wanted to meet for coffee, but I didn’t hear back.”
“What did you do next?”
“When Derek got home around lunchtime, he suggested that we walk over to the convention center to see if she was working in the booth she’d been assigned to.”
“Which booth is that?”
I gave her the name of the small college Sara worked for and tried to describe the location of the booth on the convention floor.
“She wasn’t in the booth, of course,” I said. “Her coworker Darla said she hadn’t seen her since last night and told us where the books were being stored. That’s when we came down here on the off chance that she was still working.”
“Did you have business with her or what? Why were you looking for her?”
I glanced up at Derek. “I guess you could say I was checking up on her. She and I . . . we had a falling-out back in grad school and I hadn’t seen her since, not until two nights ago. I wanted to make sure she was doing all right.”
Lee was gazing down at Sara’s face as if studying her. “She was at your bridal shower.”
“You remember her?”
“Sure. Tall, pretty, great hair. Great boots.”
“That’s her.” It was suddenly hard to swallow around the lump in my throat. I took a few deep breaths to help maintain my composure. “I really appreciate you getting here so fast, but now that you’ve had a chance to check out the scene, I have to ask you something.”
“Yeah?” She sounded suspicious, which, to be fair, was her natural state of being most of the time. Probably why she was so good at her job.
“Do you think this is a crime scene? Couldn’t it have been an accident?”
“What do you think?”
“I just can’t imagine someone thinking they could kill a person with a bunch of books.”
Derek pointed out the shards of wood strewn all over the floor around Sara’s body. “More likely she was killed by the weight of the heavy wooden crates that were dropped on top of her.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Inspector Lee said darkly. “Hardly sounds like an accident to me.” She pointed back toward the elevator. “The light switch wires were cut. That doesn’t sound accidental, either.”
“But who would do that? This is all so random. She’s not even from here, so why did someone pick this place to attack her? I can’t imagine she made someone at the conference so angry that they followed her down here, jumped into the forklift, and tried to bury her in books. Most of the conference exhibitors are storing their books down here, so they’re probably in and out of this room at all hours of the day and night. Why would a killer take a chance that someone might walk in and catch them in the act?”
Lee stared at her notepad. “So she worked at Glen Cove College. Where in the world is that?”
“It’s in Indiana,” I said, unsure where she was going with that question.
Lee shrugged. “She must have some coworkers who came out here with her.”
I nodded. “She does.”
“So she’s not exactly alone in the big city, is she? No, she’s here with friends and coworkers. Maybe there’s a love interest. And maybe she’s got an enemy or two. They’re all here for a week of fun and games and good times. And one of those people might be thinking that this would be the ideal spot to do the dirty deed, far away from the prying eyes of everyone they know.”
“Wow,” I marveled. “That’s both impressive and creepy.”
“I amaze myself,” she said, flashing me a crooked grin.
“I believe it.” I let out a breath. “If you want to know all who traveled here from their small town, you could probably ask that woman we talked to, Darla. She might be able to give you a list.”
Lee checked her notes. “Yeah, I’ve got her name written down.”
I frowned, remembering something else that might be important. Duh. “Speaking of a love interest, Sara’s husband came with her, too.”
Lee’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s a husband. That might have been useful to mention right up front.”
“You’re right, sorry. I should’ve mentioned him first, but I got caught up in everything else.”
“What’s his name?”
“Rod Martin.”
She wrote it down and circled it a few times. Probably because the spouse was usually the most likely suspect.
In this case, I had to agree.
“Tell me what you know about him.”
“Well.” Where should I start? I wondered. I gave her a brief history of our grad school days, explaining that he wasn’t the most trustworthy, loyal guy in the world. “Even though he’s officially a librarian, he actually works as an antiquarian book broker.”
“Oh great, more book people,” she said.
“It’s a librarians’ conference,” I said mildly. “So yeah, we’re everywhere. You can’t escape us.”
She grinned, then sobered. “What else do you know about Rod Martin?”
“I don’t know him very well anymore, but I can describe him for you.” I gave her the details and mentioned that he stopped by my classroom yesterday.
“Do you know why he stopped by to see you?”
“Yes, I’m curious about that as well,” Derek said dryly.
Lee grinned at him, but I just gave him a look. “I told you about that.”
“You did, but I’m at a loss as to his true motive for tracking you down.”
“I think he came to see if he could coax me into giving back the book that Sara gave me the night of the shower.”
“Why would he think you’d give it back?”
“Because it’s currently worth seventy-four thousand dollars. And I have a feeling Sara wasn’t supposed to give it away.”
She was momentarily speechless, but quickly recovered. “Jeez, Brooklyn. How do you always manage to get involved with . . . Never mind. I know it’s your business, but does there always have to be a book at the heart of these crimes?”
“Some books are worth killing over,” I said with a shrug. “But I doubt this one was the catalyst for Sara’s death.”
“What book is it?”
“The Three Musketeers.”
“Hey, I love that story.”
“I do, too,” I said. “The thing is, everyone at school used to call my two roommates and me the Three Musketeers because we were such close friends. So the book has a lot of nostalgia attached to it.”
“Along with being ridiculously expensive.”
“Right. But Sara told me that Rod would be able to get a new copy of The Three Musketeers anytime he wanted.”
“Is that true?”
“No,” I said with some confidence. “The book she gave me is very rare. I doubt there’s another one like it on the market.”
“I’ll want to take a look at that book.”
“Okay.”
She glanced at her notes. “So what else did Mr. Martin say to you?”
“Once he realized I wasn’t about to turn the book over to him, he was actually very nice. He wished me lots of happiness and good wishes. All that stuff.”
“Okay.” Lee blew out a heavy breath. “Okay. Have I got everyone’s name now?”
Derek gave me an expectant look and I winced. “Oops. Did I give you Heather’s name?”
“Heather Babcock is the other roommate?” Lee quickly flipped the page of her notepad and jotted it down.
“Right. She’s the one who had the major falling-out with Sara over Rod Martin. They didn’t speak to each other for twelve years. Until the night of my shower.”
“She’s the one with the short red hair, right?” She made a note. “Tell me more.”
It didn’t make me happy, but I went into even more gritty detail of the big fight twelve years ago and the forced reunion two nights ago.
Lee pursed her lips in thought. “So Heather has been carrying a jealous grudge against this woman for over a decade?”
I nodded reluctantly, then hastened to add, “Not that I think she killed Sara. There’s no way. I mean, we haven’t kept in touch so I don’t know her as well as I used to. But still, it’s impossible. She’s always had a really good heart, and besides, what would she know about driving a forklift? I mean, someone would’ve had to have used the forklift to drop all those books and crates, right? Heather wouldn’t do that. I mean, who would? Not me. So really, it can’t be Heather. But . . .”
Was I babbling? Yes. I clamped my mouth shut.
Lee waited. “But . . . what?”
My shoulders slumped. “But . . . yeah, okay. Heather had been miserable for a really long time and she blamed Sara for that.”
Inspector Lee nodded slowly, still making notes.
“Oh. There’s someone else you might want to talk to,” I said. “I haven’t exactly met her but apparently she was pretty tough on Sara.”
Lee glanced up. “Who’s that?”
“It’s Sara’s boss. Her name is Cornelia and she sounds horrible. Sara thought she was jealous of her. You can get more info about her from Darla—who seems terrified of the woman.”
“Sounds like a peach.” Lee made a few more notes, then closed her notepad and slid it into her jacket pocket. Kneeling down next to Sara’s body, she stared at the scene for a long moment.
I signaled to Derek that we should leave her alone, but before we could walk away, she turned and glanced up at us. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some good old-fashioned motives.”
Derek and I hung around the chilly basement for another half hour, watching the forensics team spread out to gather any possible evidence. We stood over by the elevator, holding hands and talking quietly, staying out of the cops’ way.
“Don’t you think,” I mused, “that it’s possible that the forklift driver simply lost control? Maybe his foot hit the accelerator instead of the brake and the momentum caused his cargo to slide off and fall on Sara. So it could be an accident, not murder at all.”
He squeezed my hand. “Even you must admit that’s a stretch, love.”
“I know,” I mumbled.
“But all things are possible,” he continued. “You can mention that to Inspector Lee.”
“And watch her laugh at me? Always a good time.”
“You never know. I’m sure she plans to speak to the hotel forklift driver eventually.”
“Of course she will,” I murmured. “You know, we should track down Heather and warn her.”
“Warn her?”
I cringed and quickly checked to make sure that Inspector Lee wasn’t nearby. “I mean, tell her that the police will want to talk to her. And she doesn’t even know about Sara yet. I owe it to her to let her know before she hears it from the police.”
His eyes narrowed in on me. “I think I’d better go with you.”
I smiled for the first time in hours and pressed the elevator button. “That would be wonderful. You can meet her and judge for yourself whether she’s capable of killing anyone.”
“Everyone is capable of killing, given the right circumstances.”
My smile faded. “Too true.”
“But I would still like to meet her.”
I hugged him. “Thank you.”
The elevator arrived. Once we were inside and ascending to the ground floor, he gazed down and touched my cheek. “How do you feel about spending our wedding week dealing with murder?”
Sad to say, murder had become a part of our lives. As much as I hated to admit it, I was exactly what my mother thought I was. A murder magnet. How could I have expected our wedding week to be any different? But looking up into Derek’s eyes, I knew another truth.
“As long as you’re with me, I can handle anything.”
I was surprised to find that it was still light outside. After spending several hours in that cold basement, it felt as if the entire world was a dark place.
I didn’t know where Heather was or which hotel she was staying at, so I texted her. “Can you meet me for happy hour, like, right now?”
A minute later, she responded. “Yes! Where are you?”
“Across the street at McNally’s Bar and Grill.”
“I can be there in ten minutes.”
“Awesome! See you then.”
I smiled at Derek. “We’ve got ourselves a date.”
When Heather walked in ten minutes later, we were already seated at one of the tall bar tables along the front window. I waved at her and she came right over and gave me a hug. “I’m so glad you texted me.”
“Me, too.”
“Oh. Hi.” She stared at Derek and I remembered my manners.
“Heather, this is my fiancé, Derek Stone. I hope you don’t mind him joining us. Derek, this is one of my oldest friends, Heather Babcock.”
They shook hands and then Derek stood. “The waitress seems a bit busy so I’ll go get our drinks.”
He took our orders and walked toward the bar.
“Oh my God, Brooklyn. He’s gorgeous.” Her gaze followed him. “And British to boot.”
“Yes, he is,” I said dreamily. “And he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and brave and, well, I seem to have lucked out.”
“I’ll say you did.” She chuckled, then added, “But I think he lucked out, too.”
“Aw, thank you.”
“If I had that drink, I would toast to your good luck and your happiness.”
I squeezed her hand. “I wish the same for you, Heather.”
“I’m going to be just fine,” she said, wearing a smile that tugged at my curiosity.
“What’s going on?” I asked, studying her. “You look . . . happy. Relieved, I guess. I don’t know. Your mood just seems a little lighter than yesterday.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Absolutely nothing. Just wondering what brought it on.” And please don’t say Sara’s murder, I thought to myself and barely managed to keep from saying it out loud.
“I might as well tell you,” she said shyly. “I mean there’s nothing wrong with it, but some people might get the wrong idea. But then some people, well . . .” She waved that thought away.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, and took a deep breath. “Okay. I met Rod for a drink last night.”
“What?” I might’ve shrieked the word.
Derek walked up at that moment and gave me an odd look as he set our drinks down. “Here you are, ladies.”
I grabbed my vodka gimlet and took a generous slug. “Holy moly.”
“Thank you, Derek,” Heather said, ignoring me. “What do I owe you?”
“Absolutely nothing. Drinks are on us tonight.”
“That’s awfully sweet of you. Thanks.”
We held up our glasses and clinked them together. “Cheers.”
I took another sip before I could manage to speak. “Heather had a drink with Rod last night,” I said, flashing Derek a significant look. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Does he even know who Rod is?” Heather asked me.
“Oh, yeah. I’ve told him the whole story.”
She smiled at Derek. “So now you know all the sordid details of our past.”
He flashed a sympathetic smile. “Hardly. But it sounds as if you were all close friends once upon a time.”
“Once upon a time being the operative phrase,” she muttered.
I tried to get things back on track. “Heather, I wanted to see you tonight because I’ve missed you. But also, I just found out some bad news and I wanted you to hear it from me.” And to see your reaction when you hear it, I added silently.
She set her wineglass down. “This sounds serious.”
“It is.” I reached for her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She glanced down at my hand, truly worried now. “What is it, Brooklyn? What happened?”
“It’s about Sara.”
“Oh.” Her look of concern turned to annoyance. “Now what’s her problem?”
“It’s not good.”
“All right.” Frowning, she rolled her shoulders and straightened her spine. “What is it?”
“Sara is dead.”
She leaned in closer. “Sorry, but . . . what did you say?”
I repeated it and watched her mouth drop open. For a moment she looked as though she couldn’t breathe. Then her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Heather? I didn’t mean to spring the news on you.”
But she clearly hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Her head lolled and it was as if her entire body had turned to soft wax as she slid off the stool.
“Heather!”
She was about to hit the floor when Derek caught her and hoisted her up and into his arms.
I watched in horror, then shouted for a doctor. “Help! We need help over here! Is there a doctor in the house?”
There were a few screams and general confusion. Derek carried Heather over to the hostess podium, where there were several couches set aside for people waiting for tables.
“Clear this area, please,” Derek yelled authoritatively, and everyone scattered.
The furor and confusion died down as a man from the bar rushed over. “I’m an EMT. What’s wrong with her?”
Derek glanced at the guy. “Have you been drinking?”
He didn’t seem to mind the question. “No, I’m the designated driver tonight.”
“Good.” Derek gave him a firm nod. “This is Heather. She just received some stressful news and fainted. She’ll probably be fine in a few minutes, but we’d appreciate it if you could make sure.”
“Did she eat or drink anything that might’ve caused her to pass out?”
“No,” I said. “We just gave her some bad news.”
“Okay, because I don’t have any equipment with me, but if that’s the only reason she fainted, she should be coming around in a minute. My name is Gus, by the way.”
“Thanks for your help, Gus,” I said. Staring at Heather, I had to wonder if she had actually fainted or if she was just pretending. Was this her way of deflecting suspicion? I had fainted a few times in my life and it was always at a traumatic moment. Would news of Sara’s death be so traumatic for Heather that she would lose consciousness? Admittedly, she looked completely out of it, but maybe she was a better actress than I ever gave her credit for.
Gus knelt down next to the couch and leaned over close enough to make sure she was breathing. “Heather, come on now, wake up. You’re going to be okay.”
She stirred almost instantly but didn’t open her eyes.
“Come on, Heather.” He patted her cheek gently but firmly. “That’s it. Wake up.”
With a sigh, she whispered, “What happened?”
“You passed out for a minute,” Gus said. “We were worried about you. How do you feel?”
She breathed in and out slowly. “A little spacey.”
“That’s okay. Take your time.”
Her eyes blinked open and she frowned. “Who are you?”
“I’m Gus.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“I’m an emergency medical technician.”
She gazed around. “Am I in an ambulance?”
“No, sweetheart. You’re in a bar.”
Her lips curved. “Well, that’s a new one.”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling softly. “It’s a new one for me, too.”
“Heather,” I said, staring over Gus’s shoulder. “Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“The hospital? Oh, no. I’ll be fine.”
We watched for another few minutes while she slowly got her bearings. She took a deep breath and appeared ready to sit up, but then her face crumpled and I thought she was going to burst into tears. “Oh God, Brooklyn. Did I really hear you say what I think you said?”
I nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“Maybe we should get you back to your hotel,” Gus said.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m a little discombobulated, but I’ll be fine. I just need to sit up.” She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “Will you help me up, Gus?”
“I sure will.” He eased her up to a sitting position and then sat down next to her.
Heather leaned against him for a long moment. I couldn’t blame her. Gus was definitely hunky. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Are you ready to stand up?”
“I think so.”
“Let me help you get back to your table.”
“Could you stay with me for a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, wait. I’m sorry. Are you here with someone?”
“Just a buddy,” he said with a grin. “He’ll survive without me for a while.”
Her smile grew bigger. “Good.”
Was she actually flirting with the man? Once again she looked happy, reminding me that she had gone out for drinks with Rod Martin last night while his wife, poor Sara, had suffered death by a thousand books and was now on her way to the morgue.
Within the span of a few hours, our lives had become completely surreal.
Back at the table, Heather wasn’t letting her little fainting spell put a damper on her social life. We were on our second round of cocktails and Gus was still attending to Heather’s every need when I received a text from Inspector Lee. “Can’t find husband or girlfriend. Have you seen either?”
Admittedly, I was amazed that she had texted me for help. Glancing at Derek, I saw him observing me. “I’ve got to make a phone call.”
He nodded knowingly. “It might be quieter outside.”
I smiled at Heather and Gus. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I walked outside to call the inspector.
“Inspector Lee,” she answered after the first ring.
“It’s Brooklyn. Derek and I are with Heather right now. I don’t know where Rod Martin is, but she might know. Should I ask her?”
“I’d rather talk to her first,” she said. “Where are you?”
“McNally’s Bar. Do you know where that is?”
She snorted. “Of course. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t let her leave.”
“She won’t.” Not as long as Gus sticks around, I added silently.
Back inside, Heather was curious. “I didn’t know where you went, but Derek said you had to make a phone call. Is everything all right?”
“It was nothing,” I said breezily. “What did I miss?” I was trying to be nonchalant, but what would I say when the police arrived? Would Heather realize I had fingered her to the cops?
Fingered her to the cops? Suddenly I was in a noir movie from the forties? Could I be more melodramatic? Inspector Lee just wanted to talk to her. Shaking my head, I reached for my glass and took a fortifying sip of my vodka gimlet.
“Heather,” I said, changing the subject. “I’d like to get in touch with Rod so I can tell him what happened to Sara. Do you know where he is?”
She let out a gasp. “Oh no! Poor Rod.” She buried her face in her hands. Was she crying? Were they crocodile tears?
Gus exchanged looks with Derek and me. “Who’s Rod?”
“Our friend Sara’s husband.”
He grimaced. “Sara’s the one who died.”
“Right.”
He draped his arm around Heather’s shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. “I think I should get going.”
“Oh, don’t go,” she said, gazing up at him. “Do you have to?”
“Yeah. Will you walk outside with me?”
Her eyes brightened. “Yes.” She jumped down from her stool and looked at me. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, good.”
As soon as she left, I turned to Derek. “I don’t want her to go too far. Inspector Lee will be here in just a few minutes.”
Derek was watching out the window. “Then I’d better follow them because they just took off walking up the block.”
“Oh, great.” Inspector Lee would kill me if Heather disappeared.
Derek jogged out of the restaurant and I sat and cooled my jets. Where would Heather go? Maybe she just wanted to take a walk with her new friend Gus, who seemed like a really nice, smart guy.
I sipped my drink and lamented my questionable judgment. I should’ve told Heather that I had spoken to the police and that they were on their way to talk to her. Sure, that might’ve spooked her, but at least she would know what was happening. On the other hand, if she knew the cops were on their way, would she make a run for it?
Make a run for it?
And there went my imagination again. But then, who knew what someone might do if they were feeling guilty enough?
Why would Heather be feeling guilty? The only possible reason was that she had something to do with Sara’s death.
And I hadn’t even started to grill her about Rod. Was that why she was feeling guilty? Because she’d been in a bar with Sara’s husband around the same time the woman was murdered? And how had Heather and Rod wound up having a drink together last night? I couldn’t believe they had simply run into each other at the conference.
Although, come to think of it, that was exactly what had happened to me and Heather. We had literally just run into each other. So it could’ve happened again, I suppose.
And on a different note, why had she gone for a drink with him in the first place? How could that be a good idea? She had suffered through a bitter breakup with him and the betrayal had haunted her for twelve long years. So now they were all friendly and cozy again?
But wait. Maybe Rod had set the whole thing up. I wouldn’t put it past him. And I was much more comfortable thinking it was his idea rather than thinking Heather had sought him out.
My mind was going in a hundred different directions and I was starting to get a headache. I glanced out the window, but didn’t see Derek anywhere. It didn’t matter, though, because I had complete confidence that he wouldn’t let Heather slip away. I sipped my drink and tried to relax.
“There you are,” Inspector Lee said from right behind me.
I flinched. “I didn’t see you coming.”
“I’m like the stealth bomber.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. Do you want a drink?”
“Nah. I’m on the clock.” She glanced around. “Where are your friends?”
“Didn’t you see Derek outside?”
“No. Why isn’t he in here with you?”
“He went outside to make sure Heather didn’t disappear.”
“She’s trying to disappear? From me? I’m hurt.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “I didn’t tell her you were coming, so I think the reason she left has more to do with the nice guy she met tonight.”
“Ah, young love.”
“It’s a beautiful thing.” I grabbed my purse and pulled out a credit card. “I’m going to pay the bill. If you want to go outside and look around for Derek, I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She took off and I signaled the waitress. As she walked away with my card, I wondered again how Heather would react to the fact that I’d brought the police here. She shouldn’t be angry with me. After all, an old friend had been murdered so, naturally, the police would want to interview everyone who’d seen her over the past forty-eight hours. And furthermore, Heather had been with the victim’s husband at roughly the same time that Sara was killed. Even if she was completely innocent, she might know something that could help Inspector Lee solve the crime. Maybe Rod mentioned something crucial when they were together.
And why did I even care what Heather thought? At this point, all that mattered was finding justice for Sara.
The waitress returned with my credit card. I signed the receipt, shoved my copy into my purse, and walked to the door. Once again it felt like I’d been here for hours, but I checked my watch and saw that it was barely seven o’clock.
Out on the sidewalk, I looked up and down the street, trying to spot Derek and Inspector Lee. But now they had both disappeared. Lee couldn’t have gotten too far because she was only a minute or two ahead of me. I took off down the street toward my house, thinking they might be on the nearby side street.
Summer weather was coming soon, but for now, the night was cool enough that I wished I had thought to bring a jacket. I zipped my hoodie up and shoved both hands in my pouch pocket for warmth. I smiled at the sound of the roaring crowd watching the ball game at the Giants’ stadium less than a quarter mile away.
There was a dark, narrow alley at the end of the row of buildings, and when I peeked down there, I could see Inspector Lee talking to Derek. Heather stood off to the side. Where was Gus?
I walked toward them and spoke to Heather. “Did Gus leave?”
“I’m not sure I’m talking to you,” Heather said, tossing her hair back. “Why would you think I know anything about Sara’s death?”
“I never said I did,” I said calmly. “But the police will want to talk to anyone who knew Sara. Plus you were with her husband last night and the police are trying to find him. I thought you might know where he is.”
“Rod didn’t kill Sara,” she insisted.
“But the police still need to talk to him. He’s Sara’s husband.” In case that detail slipped your mind, I thought. I didn’t ask her why she was so adamant that Rod was innocent. Why, all of a sudden, was she his staunchest ally? I didn’t get it.
She huffed. “Maybe so, but you could’ve warned me that the police were coming.”
“You just fainted, Heather. I didn’t want to freak you out all over again.”
Inspector Lee had been silent during our brief discussion, but now she spoke up. “Why don’t we go somewhere more conducive to carrying on a conversation?”
“What a good idea.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them up. And why were we in an alley in the first place? I would have to ask Derek later.
“Our place is just a block or so away from here,” Derek suggested.
I slipped my arm through his. “Perfect solution.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Heather said, frowning. She was clearly not ready for what she anticipated would be a tough police grilling.
“Beats taking you down to the police station,” Inspector Lee said, her cheerful tone belying her steely determination to interview Heather tonight.
Heather gulped, seeming to finally grasp the situation. Glancing at Derek, she said, “Your place sounds great.”
With a satisfied gleam, Inspector Lee met my gaze. “I’ll get my car and meet you all there.”