A half hour later, Stevie walked into our waiting room, followed by Officer Jenkins and Derek. “We’re waiting for the crime scene techs to arrive from Sonoma so we’ll be here awhile longer. Which means we’re sending you all home for now.”
Mom grabbed Meg’s hand. “But don’t you want to talk to Meg and me? We’re the ones who found Lawson’s body.”
“We can tell you everything we saw,” Meg added.
“That will be very helpful, ma’am,” he said. “We definitely want to talk to both of you, but we can do it tomorrow.”
Mom’s shoulders slumped a bit at the disappointment of not being “grilled.”
“That’s fine, then,” she said.
His eyes narrowed. “You’re not planning on leaving town, are you?”
“What? No. We— Oh, dear.” Flustered, Mom patted her cheeks. “You’re joking.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Stevie grinned, and his beautiful white teeth gleamed. “A little levity. Probably not appreciated at two in the morning.”
Probably not, I thought. But I appreciated the fact that Stevie was being gentle with Mom and Meg.
Mom smiled weakly. “I admit the events of the night have taken their toll on my sense of humor.”
“Understandable.” He glanced around the room. “It would be helpful if all of you would make yourselves available to be interviewed at some point during the day, preferably in the morning. Our officers will call each of you to set up appointments.”
“We’ll be available,” I said, stifling a yawn as I spoke for the group. At this point, I was no longer very lucid, but I managed a few sentences. “Do you need our phone numbers? Derek and I are staying at a different address than my parents’. Do you need that info?”
He held up a small leather notebook. “I already have everyone’s information, thanks to Commander Stone.”
“Okay, then.” I pushed myself up off the couch while Dad and John extended their arms to help Mom and Meg do the same. I stretched my back and neck, and rolled my shoulders, feeling stiff from sitting on that overstuffed couch. It felt like we’d been there for days.
“There’s a half pot of coffee in the kitchen at the end of the hallway,” Dad said. “Please help yourselves.”
“Appreciate it, Mr. Wainwright,” Stevie said.
Derek walked over and slipped his arm around my waist. “Let’s go home, shall we?”
“Absolutely, Commander,” I murmured.
He gave me a light pinch and I tried not to squirm as I turned to Stevie. “It’s so good to see you again, Stevie. I mean, Detective.” I gave him a hug. “And welcome back.”
“Thanks.” He nodded to Derek. “Good night, Commander. See you later, Brooklyn.” Stevie wished everyone else a good night as well, and I appreciated that. Mom was right. Stevie had always been very polite.
Outside, the first thing I noticed was the medical examiner’s black van parked on Berkeley Circle. So Lawson’s body was still inside the committee room. I felt an instant chill and wondered if it was due to the cold night air or the sudden image of that poor guy laid out on the hardwood floor, waiting to be carried out and delivered to the morgue.
My Dad and John had their arms around their wives and were steering them toward the street where all of our cars were parked. I checked both women with quick glances and, of course, they looked much better than I was feeling. Seriously, I wanted to be them when I was their age. Nothing seemed to stop them. Not even murder.
I zipped my jacket up to my neck, shook myself out of my morbid thoughts, and gave quick hugs all around. Then we all got into our cars and drove home.
Derek and I didn’t speak for the first few minutes of the drive. Then he turned and glanced at me. “Darling, I would appreciate if you would address me as Commander from now on.”
I choked out a laugh. “You’re going to be sorry for that.”
“I don’t see why,” he said, pretending to be affronted. “But to be serious for a moment, even though it was a bit ridiculous, I’m pleased that Gabriel addressed me as if I were important, because I was able to find out some information that I otherwise wouldn’t have learned.”
I shifted in my seat to face him. “First of all, you are important. And second, what’d you find out? How did Lawson die?”
He frowned at me. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice?”
I grimaced. “I was a little too queasy to notice much of anything at the time. Except for all that blood.”
He reached over and patted my hand. “I’m sorry, love.”
“Yeah, me too.” I shook my head. “I’ve really got to do something about that stupid little phobia. But never mind. What happened?”
Derek stared at the road ahead. “Lawson was stabbed in the neck with the sharp, broken edge of a wine bottle. The glass hit his carotid artery and he bled out. Death occurred within minutes.”
Well, I asked for that, I thought. Now I was queasy all over again. “That’s disgusting. Poor Lawson. No wonder there was so much blood.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head. “There must’ve been a fight, but who breaks a wine bottle and shoves it into someone’s neck? Seriously, what is wrong with people?”
“That’s a very good question, love.” He shook his head and squeezed my hand again. “One we don’t have an answer to. But I’m actually glad you didn’t see Lawson. It was rather ghastly.”
My imagination was now working overtime, painting vivid impressions of what the murder scene had actually looked like. My stomach turned at my own thoughts, so imagine if I’d gotten a better look.
“I probably would’ve lost my dinner,” I muttered.
“And I wouldn’t have blamed you. I do hope our mothers didn’t get too good a look at what caused Lawson’s death.”
The thought of that possibility made my stomach swirl. “If they had, I doubt they would’ve been so cheerful about it.”
“I’m going to hold on to that thought,” he said, and frowned. “Because their excitement level was a bit over the top, wouldn’t you say?”
“They were downright giddy about it.” I was wide awake now as I pondered that. The moms were usually cheerful and upbeat, and normally that was a good thing. But at a murder scene, it seemed a little out of place. “I have so many questions.”
“I’m ready whenever you are.”
“I’m not sure where to start.”
“Dealer’s choice, darling. You get to choose wherever you want to begin.”
“Okay.” I took a breath and let it out. “You said it was a wine bottle. Was the rest of the bottle still in the room? Was it empty? Had Lawson and his killer been drinking the wine?” I frowned. “I guess the medical examiner will have to do an autopsy to answer that one.”
“Yes,” he said. “Although there were two empty wineglasses on the table. And yes, the bottle was still there. Broken into several pieces.”
“Could you tell what kind of wine it was?”
“The glass was dark so it was most certainly a red wine of some kind.”
“Did you happen to see the label?”
“No.” He scowled. “The label was completely obscured by all that blood. But the crime scene techs will surely be able to discern which winery it came from.”
“I hope so.” The more I thought about it, the more anxious I was to find out. “That could be important.”
“I agree.”
“Or not.” I sighed. I knew both of us were thinking of all of our friends—not to mention my parents—with their own wineries. If one of their bottles had been used to kill Lawson . . .
“Was any of the wine spilled on the floor?”
He frowned thoughtfully and steered the car around a curve, headlights slashing through the darkness. “I thought I saw some drops of wine spilled on the floor, but again, there was so much blood, it was hard to tell for certain which was which.”
I should’ve thought of that. “Did the police say if they found any fingerprints on the bottle? Or the wineglasses? Any footprints on the floor?”
“Gabriel and I saw fingerprints on one of the glasses, but the other one had been wiped clean. And there were fingerprints on the bottle as well. Willoughby confirmed it. He explained that he could’ve pulled the prints himself, but decided to wait for the techs to arrive from Sonoma. They’ll be able to gather all the evidence at one time and put together a more complete picture.”
I half turned in my seat to stare at him. “What other evidence was there?”
“There was a dirty footprint on the wood floor. I’d like to think it came from either the killer or the victim, as the room appeared to have been cleaned earlier. But it could’ve come from our mothers’ shoes. Or any of ours, for that matter. We’ll have to wait and see for sure.”
I frowned. “They didn’t take any of our shoes into evidence.”
“No.” He glanced at me. “Strictly speaking, they should have. But, they’ll probably check shoes during their interviews tomorrow. That is, later today.”
“Right. Strange that they didn’t take our shoes,” I mused. I could remember handing my shoes over to Inspector Lee on more than one occasion when I’d stepped onto a crime scene. “I guess small-town detectives work differently than the big-city cops.”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Oh, and Gabriel found a button in the corner of the room, but we’re not sure where it came from.”
“A button.” I frowned again. “But if the room was cleaned earlier, I would hope that the cleaners would’ve found a button. Which means it would’ve come from either Lawson’s or the killer’s clothing.”
“Perhaps,” he mused, unwilling to put too much faith in the cleaning service or in the possibility that a button might be a major clue. “Also, there were a few pages of a spreadsheet left on the conference table.”
“Seriously? I didn’t see any of that when I was in there.”
“You were distracted, darling.” He made another turn. “You were worried about our mothers and trying to avoid looking at blood.”
“True. Some detective I am.”
He laughed. “You’re a wonderful detective—for a bookbinder.”
I laughed, too, and could have kissed him for making me smile.
“Did you get a good look at the spreadsheet? Was it festival related?”
Derek turned onto Vivaldi Way and started up the hill. “I’m afraid I didn’t have time to study it.”
I was ridiculously disappointed. “That’s too bad.”
He winked and grinned. “But I snapped a photo of it so we can both study it later today.”
I beamed at him. “Oh my God, you are awesome. You’re also a great detective for a Commander.”
He nodded regally. “Thank you, my love. And you may call me Derek.”
I snorted a laugh. “You’re awfully funny for two o’clock in the morning.”
“Darling, for two o’clock in the morning, I’m hilarious.”
I laughed again. “Yes, you are. Any time of day, really.” But then I sighed. “I wish I’d been more coherent earlier. I could’ve helped you look around for clues.”
He pulled into the driveway of Abraham’s house and came to a stop. “Don’t feel too badly, darling. I think your natural abhorrence of blood was exacerbated by the fact that it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. And it didn’t help that your mother and mine may be implicated, so you had your mind on that as well.”
“You got that right.” I yawned. “I can’t believe it’s two o’clock—”
“In the morning. Right.” He chuckled, then unfastened my seatbelt for me. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Later that morning, we sat in the sunny breakfast room, drinking coffee and feasting on iced pumpkin scones, Brie, slices of ham, and apple chunks, when Derek’s phone rang. The conversation was brief and when he ended the call, he said, “That was Detective Willoughby. He’ll be here in half an hour.”
“He’s coming to interview us himself? Not sending one of the officers?”
“Yes, he’s coming himself.” Derek broke off a corner of the scone, spread a generous bit of Brie on it, and topped it with a thin slice of ham. “I’m going to bet he’s coming here himself because of the little girl he loved in fourth grade.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to bet he’s coming himself because of . . .” I lowered my voice to add gravitas to the words, “the Commander.”
Derek rolled his eyes, then took a moment to chew his scone-Brie-ham concoction. “As I mentioned, my former title was useful in the moment.”
“Very useful indeed,” I agreed, recalling all the juicy information Derek had been able to learn from the police at the crime scene the night before.
“I believe,” Derek said, “that with all the evidence left behind in the meeting room, the police will be able to track down this killer in no time flat.”
“I hope so,” I said, but I was worried. “I don’t want the main festival headline to read ‘Murder at the Book Festival.’ That’s not the kind of takeaway we want for the first annual Dharma Book Festival.”
Derek nodded. “Your mother would find that very upsetting.”
“Everyone would, but especially Mom.” I sipped my coffee. “Although I’ve noticed in the past that murder doesn’t necessarily keep the hordes from showing up anyway.”
“So true,” Derek admitted. “People can be ghoulish indeed.”
I nodded in grim acceptance. “For that reason alone, our festival could be the most successful event in the history of Sonoma County.”
“Careful . . . if you’re right, the council could want a murder every year just to keep up attendance!”
I wanted to laugh, but as we’d discovered in the past, the general public could be pretty weird. So who knew?
He laughed ruefully. “If our mothers’ behavior last night is anything to go by, the subject of murder will be a big draw.”
I chuckled. “Do you remember when they first met at our house?”
Derek poured both of us another cup of coffee. “How could I forget? They practically begged us to take them on a tour of the sites where you’d discovered dead bodies.”
“And they were downright giggly when you allowed them to act as a distraction while you broke into an apartment to steal a rare book.”
“I must say they performed well,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Almost makes me worry what the two of them could do as a team if they’re determined enough.”
“I know what you mean. Still, they got the job done.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t worry anymore that they discovered the body.”
“Nor will I. They’ve held up just fine so far.”
His words made me smile, but it faded slowly. “I know Mom will hate that murder has come to Dharma.”
“On that we’re agreed.” He rolled a slice of ham around a thick sliver of Brie. “It really is too bad. Not just the murder itself, which is horrific, don’t get me wrong. But the timing, love. It couldn’t be worse.”
I ate my scone and thought about everything we’d gone through in just one day. “Is it wrong that I blame it all on Jacob Banyan?”
“It’s not wrong because, frankly, so do I,” Derek admitted. “But why do you think it’s his fault?”
“I’m not necessarily accusing him of killing Lawson Schmidt. But he’s such a scrooge and a buzz killer. And he’s not just a miserable human being, he’s mean, too. A bully. You could see his attitude affecting everyone on the festival committee. His evil vibe alone might’ve caused someone else to lash out.” I took a bite of Brie, then muttered, “That might be a little harsh.”
“Perhaps a little. Yet I must agree.” Derek considered it for a moment. “We’ll have to keep an eye on him. If he’s our killer, he’ll give himself away sooner or later.”
“What if he’s not our killer?”
“Then we’ll have eliminated one suspect.”
“Good point.” Though I hoped he was the killer. Otherwise, there was someone else in Dharma as dangerous as Banyan.
I checked the clock on the wall of the breakfast room and realized that Stevie would be here in fifteen minutes. “I’ll clear the dishes and tidy up.”
“Thanks, love.” He glanced at the clock as well. “Your Detective Stevie should be here soon. I have to make a quick phone call to the office, but I’ll be finished before he arrives.”
“He’s really not my detective,” I said mildly, and began stacking our dishes. “And by the way, Derek. If you call him Stevie, I’m going to have to beat you.”
He laughed, clearly unimpressed with my threats. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t embarrass you in front of your little friend.”
Little friend? I turned and glared at him. “You’re really going to get it, pal.”
He was still laughing when he left the room.
Derek was finished with his phone call and back in the living room when Stevie arrived.
“I just left your parents’ house.” He grinned at me. “They’re great. Just like I remembered them.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty awesome.”
He glanced at Derek. “And I spoke with your parents earlier.”
“Aren’t they wonderful?” I gushed.
“Yeah, they are. You guys lucked out in the in-law sweepstakes.”
“It’s true. We are incredibly lucky,” Derek said. “Have a seat, Detective.”
“Would you like some water or coffee?” I asked.
“No, thanks.” He sat in one of the sling-back chairs across from the couch. “It’s weird, isn’t it, how much alike your mothers are?”
Derek and I looked at each other, each of us smiling, before I looked at Stevie. “We’ve noticed. It’s like they’re long-lost sisters or something.”
“Agreed,” he said, then added, “Why don’t you both sit down and we can talk for a few minutes?”
For some reason, his polite request that we sit down unnerved me. I wasn’t sure why. Of course we should sit down; that wasn’t the point. But I was suddenly wishing that Inspector Lee was sitting here with us. I had no idea how Stevie would run this murder investigation.
Would he listen to people like Saffron Bergeron and believe that my mother was to blame for Lawson’s death? Because that was just the sort of slanderous talk Saffron would spread. I had to take a few breaths and try to calm down. I was panicking already, and that was no way to approach this.
I remembered that back in fourth grade, Stevie and I were the two smartest kids in class. That was one of the reasons why we’d been drawn to each other. I just hoped he was as smart now as he had been back then.
But meanwhile, I needed to snap out of this hyper-weird zone I was in, and quickly. I didn’t need a murder detective wondering why I was sweating and stuttering like a guilty person.
I sat down. See, that was easy, I thought. Taking another deep breath, I tried to smile. Were my lips trembling? I stood up abruptly. “I’m sorry. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Running down the hall to the powder room, I closed the door, stared at myself in the mirror, and scowled. “You goofball. Settle down. No, he’s not your good buddy like Inspector Lee. But that’s okay. He’s Stevie, your old grammar school boyfriend, and he likes you. He likes Derek, too. And he likes your mother and Derek’s mother. There are no problems here. Nobody in your family is guilty. We just need to answer a few questions to help him solve this crime. So shape up and get back out there and kick butt!”
And rah-rah-rah. Go team. Sheesh. Honestly, I needed to get a grip on this kind of thing. But in my defense, if it were your mom involved in a murder investigation, wouldn’t anybody turn into a babbling idiot?
After a few more deep breaths, I felt as if I could walk out and conduct myself like a normal person. I washed and dried my hands for good measure, and then walked back to the living room and quickly took a seat next to Derek on the couch.
“Sorry, I had to wash my hands.” It was a lame excuse, but hey, I had washed my hands.
Derek looked at me with some concern. I appreciated it, because I was concerned, too. I smiled at him, hoping the smile would assuage his worry. He frowned. Okay, maybe my lips were still a little shaky. I just prayed that I didn’t look as unhinged as I felt.
“So, Stevie,” I began, then winced. “I mean, sorry, Detective Willoughby, I imagine you have some questions for us?”
“Sure do.” His smile was a little tight. “And I appreciate you calling me Detective Willoughby when I’m working a case. Otherwise, Steve is fine. Nobody’s called me Stevie in twenty years.”
I no longer felt shaky. Funny. His attempt to get more professional improved my balance. “Steve it is. Except for when you’re on duty.”
“Thanks.” He opened his notebook.
“I’d like to make a statement first,” I said before I could change my mind.
His look of surprise matched Derek’s, but it couldn’t be helped. I’d had the realization while washing my hands.
“All right,” he said.
I took a deep breath, then said, “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but Jacob Banyan has made numerous threats to my mother. And Derek and I witnessed him threatening Lawson Schmidt as well.”
He scanned his notebook, skipping back a few pages before glancing up. “Your mother mentioned that she heard Banyan threaten Lawson.”
“But said nothing about the threats to her?” I asked.
“No.”
I felt my eyes crossing.
Derek said quickly, “Banyan’s a dangerous man. His threats to Mrs. Wainwright are numerous and ugly, as Brooklyn mentioned. Frankly, he’s a menace and should be considered a suspect.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Stevie said, making a note in his book before giving us both a firm nod.
“Okay, thanks,” I said with some relief. “I just needed to get that off my chest. Please go ahead with your questions.”
He found his place in the notebook and began. “Can you give me an idea of what happened last night when your mother called you?”
“Sure.” We told him the whole story, right down to the fact that I get dizzy when I see blood.
“Do you see blood often?” he asked.
“Um.” I glanced at Derek. “Sort of.”
“Brooklyn has been involved in a number of crime scenes,” Derek explained easily. “It’s due to the fact that she works with very rare and very expensive books. For some reason, there are any number of people out there who would kill for a book.”
Steve looked up from his notebook. “Well now, there’s a coincidence for you. Dharma is about to have its first book festival.”
“Exactly,” Derek said triumphantly, as though Stevie had solved the great puzzle of the universe.
Frowning, Stevie glanced from Derek to me. “But I don’t see how Lawson Schmidt could’ve been killed over a book.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
Derek shrugged philosophically. “We’ve said that same thing before and it turned out that there was often a perfectly plausible reason as to why a book was a motive for murder.”
“Really,” Stevie murmured.
“Yes, Detective,” Derek said with authority.
“And not to nitpick,” I chimed in, “but even if Lawson wasn’t killed over a book, he was almost certainly killed over a book festival.”
Derek gazed at me and I wondered if he was silently high-fiving me or just laughing on the inside. It was pretty clever if I did say so myself. But Stevie didn’t look convinced.
“Anyway,” I rushed on, “before you conclude that I’m a complete flake, I really have been involved in a number of homicide investigations in San Francisco. And that’s where my blood phobia comes from. You can get in touch with Inspector Janice Lee of the San Francisco Police Department if you need a reference or whatever. She’s familiar with my bookbinding work and the murder investigations connected to it. I can give you her number if you’d like to consult with her.”
Would he think I was overstepping here? I wasn’t trying to tell him how to do his job. I just wanted him to know that, well, I wasn’t a complete nutjob.
“I might consider doing that,” he said, surprising me.
Okay. Good news. I was breathing a little easier as I wrote Inspector Lee’s phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Steve.
“Thanks.” He slipped the paper into his pocket.
And now I had to wonder and worry just how good an idea that was. Inspector Lee could be prickly sometimes and she enjoyed giving me grief. I didn’t think she would throw me under the bus in this circumstance. Just in case, though, it would be a good idea if I placed a call to her myself.
A few minutes after Detective Stevie left, Mom called to ask if Derek and I would go with her to the emergency committee meeting she’d called for that afternoon.
“Of course, Mom,” I said, and glanced at Derek, since he was on the speaker phone call, too.
Derek nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Meg is coming, too.”
“I’ll pick you both up,” Derek said.
“Thank you,” Mom whispered.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine now, but the police interrogation was a little harsh.”
“Harsh?” I was outraged. Maybe I would keep calling him Stevie after all. “Why? What did he ask you?”
“Oh, it wasn’t Stevie’s fault,” Mom said. “For the life of me, I just couldn’t remember a few details from last night. I was just so nervous. Stevie said he would probably come back to ask more questions, maybe later this afternoon or tomorrow.”
So Mom had been unnerved by Stevie’s presence, too. Sort of like me. Weird.
“Did you tell him about Banyan’s threats and outbursts?”
“Well, no. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with poor Lawson.”
“But he threatened Lawson, too.”
“Oh, I mentioned that.”
“That’s good, Mom, but in case you forgot, Banyan has threatened you a bunch of times. Stevie needs to know that.”
“I suppose so. I’ll give him a call.”
“Never mind. Derek and I already told him.”
“Oh, dear. I hope you didn’t upset him.”
“Upset Stevie? You’re the one who’s upset.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, actually.”
“Then explain it to me,” Derek said.
“Mom thinks that if she upsets Stevie, he might accuse her of murder.”
He was taken aback. “You’re joking.”
I shook my head.
“After all, Derek,” Mom said. “We were the first ones on the scene.”
“Rebecca,” Derek said, clearly trying to keep calm. “Your fears are unfounded. There’s nothing to worry about, I promise you.”
“Derek, you are such a sweetie,” Mom said, but I could tell she was still feeling tense. Worried.
“Mother, Lawson Schmidt is over six feet tall and weighs twice as much as you do. How does Stevie figure you could’ve subdued him long enough to break a wine bottle and cut his throat?”
“Well, goodness,” she said, her voice sounding a little wobbly. “You make a good point.”
I winced a little. I hadn’t wanted to see the scene myself, yet I’d just managed to draw it for my mother in living color.
“I’m sorry to be so graphic, Mom. But I’m annoyed by this whole situation.” Thankfully my irritation was quickly swamping my nerves. Why should we be nervous? None of us had done anything. Stevie should be the nervous one. He had a murder to solve.
“Who would kill Lawson?” I wondered aloud. “And why would they do it in your committee meeting room? What’s really going on here?”
“Oh dear, now you’re the one who’s stressed.” Her voice had changed. She sounded like she was soothing a wounded puppy dog. “Take a few minutes, sweetie. Do some stretching exercises and breathe deeply. You don’t want to clog up your chakras, do you? Derek wouldn’t be happy about that.”
Derek grinned.
“Mom, I’m begging you.” I pressed my hand to my forehead. “Stop. Please.”
“Don’t be shy, sweetie,” she said pleasantly. “If you need an alignment, I’ll make an appointment for you.”
Alarmed, I glanced at Derek who was laughing so hard that he’d fallen back on the couch and then rolled onto his side. I scowled at him. For a dignified, dangerous security agent, it wasn’t attractive.
But I couldn’t blame him. One of the chakras was responsible for our sexual and creative energies—and Derek knew this because my mother had told him. That’s right. She had pulled him aside the night before our wedding to fill him in on all that good woo-woo stuff. Talk about mortifying! Just the sort of heart-to-heart talk a man wanted to have with his future mother-in-law.
“Jeez, Mom. Really?”
“Or I could do an enchantment spell for you.”
“Maybe you should think about doing a protection spell on yourself, Mom.”
She paused to consider it. “Sweetie, that’s a lovely idea. We’ll do it tonight.”
I blinked. Was I crazy? Why did I say that? I managed to end the call and then stared back at Derek who was still grinning like a fool.
“You’re not being helpful,” I said.
Which only made him start laughing again.