Robin walked back into the room still wearing her short, flimsy nightgown, but at least she’d added a short, flimsy robe. She looked disheveled and sexy, not exactly appropriate for a meeting with the police.
She noticed my expression of dismay and said, “Hey, you guys are in my room.”
“Yes, and we should go,” Derek said immediately, and turned to me. “We just came by to check your schedule. I don’t want you going anywhere alone. If one of us can’t be with you, Angus will call one of his men to accompany you wherever you need to go. Right, Angus? Angus?”
MacLeod kept trying to swallow, but he’d lost all ability to speak. It probably wasn’t the first time a man was flummoxed by the sight of Robin in a silk nightie.
Ignoring him, I laid out my day’s agenda for Derek. I had two seminars I wanted to attend, one on textile conservation and storage treatments, and another one, given by Helen, on Japanese paper-folding techniques. The first one complied with my continuing-education efforts and the second sounded like fun. I hoped I’d come away with a few new ideas for my own classes, especially the master bookbinding class I was scheduled to teach next month at the Bay Area Book Arts center, affectionately known as BABA.
Then after lunch, I’d be giving my rescheduled bookbinding class.
Robin pulled me aside and warned me to listen to Derek and stay safe. “If I have to explain to your mother that you were tossed down an elevator shaft, it’ll just piss me off.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Now I’ll have that image in my head all day.”
“Good, maybe you’ll be more careful,” she said, and gave me a fierce hug.
Derek and I dragged poor Angus out of the room, leaving Robin to dress for the day trip she and my parents were taking to St. Andrews.
The two men walked me downstairs to the textile conservation seminar on the conference level. At the door, I turned and faced my protectors.
“Thanks,” I said, grateful for their presence.
“One of my men will be waiting out here when you’re finished,” Angus said, having regained his voice.
“Take care, love,” Derek said, and in front of a few hundred of my closest, personal book fair friends, Derek planted a kiss on me that made Gabriel’s really excellent efforts seem half-assed. My vision was blurred as I stood at the door and watched Derek and Angus walk away.
The textile conservation seminar was dull but necessary. Helen’s paper-folding class was fun, and she gave me some great ideas for my own classes. I asked her what she was doing for lunch, but she was already booked. Then afterward, she was running off to an invitation-only seminar up at the castle. I expressed my extreme jealousy and she laughed. We set a time to meet later on in the pub.
After she left, I grabbed a take-out sandwich from the lobby kiosk and ate it on the way to my rescheduled bookbinding workshop. Constable McKenzie caught up with me at the escalator and followed me downstairs.
As I stepped off the escalator, I saw Royce McVee coming out of another conference room. He waved me over and I gave him a light hug.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Fairly well, thanks,” he said with a tight smile. “I’ve managed to drum up some new business, despite my rather dour reputation.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said. He asked where I was going, then walked down the wide corridor with me. The vigilant Constable McKenzie trailed several feet behind us.
“I had a chance to talk to Serena,” I said after a moment.
“Ah, yes, the blushing bride,” he said snidely. “Your thoughts?”
“I can’t figure her out,” I admitted. “My friend Helen-do you know her? Helen Chin? She’s a paper and fabric artist. Anyway, Helen thinks Serena’s story is heartbreakingly real and believes every word she says.”
“Oh, Serena’s story is certainly compelling,” Royce said, his tone dripping sarcasm.
I chuckled. “Yes, isn’t it? I can’t believe it, but Helen is so wrapped up in it and actually wants to be friends with Serena, which is just ridiculous, seeing as how she herself was engaged to Kyle and didn’t-”
“I beg your pardon?”
Oops. Had I really just blown Helen’s secret wide-open? What an idiot I was.
“Go on, Brooklyn,” Royce said calmly. “Tell me about Helen and Kyle.”
Later I might chalk it up to the stress of the week, but right now I had some emergency triage to perform. So I laughed. “Oh, Royce, I shouldn’t have said anything, and I hope you won’t repeat it. It was nothing. Just a bit of a misunderstanding. You know how Kyle was with the ladies. Always flirting, making promises he had no intention of keeping. Helen knew he was pulling her leg.”
I continued to chuckle, but Royce was no longer amused. Instead, he chewed his lip as his eyes narrowed. He looked as if he were contemplating murder. Not mine, I hoped.
“Look, Royce,” I said quickly, “I just meant that Helen and Serena’s becoming friends is odd because they both claimed to be Kyle’s… well, not really, but, you know… hmm.”
Oh, God, I needed an exit strategy.
“Oh, look, here’s my workshop,” I said brightly. “Guess I’ll see you later.”
“Indeed you will,” he murmured, and walked off.
The quietly observant Constable McKenzie watched Royce walk all the way back down the hall until he reached the escalator and disappeared. Then the good constable opened the door to the conference room and was kind enough to check around for dead bodies under the worktable, finally declaring the room dead-body-free. He said he’d wait outside and left me to arrange my supplies and tools for the class.
I made a conscious decision not to think about Royce McVee until the workshop was over.
The class filled up quickly and we went to work. I had to laugh at one point when an older woman named Millie glued her decorative cloth book cover to the worktable.
“Oopsie-daisy,” she said.
“No problem, Millie,” I said, prying open my supply case and pulling out an extra piece of Japanese cloth so klutzy Millie could start over.
Even with all the pieces precut and the instructions easy enough for a six-year-old to follow, there were always one or two people who just didn’t get it.
But most of them did.
“Ooh, it’s so pretty,” one woman said, smiling. She’d finished the project and was tying the small album together with the purple grosgrain ribbon I’d provided.
“Beautiful job, Maureen,” I said as I walked up and down along the tables, observing everyone’s work.
The long day and the strange appearances of a possible killer and Gabriel during the night started to catch up with me, and I had to keep myself from yawning more than once.
Finally, the two hours were up and the class began to file out with their treasures as a young woman waded through the wave of departing students. She approached and handed me a small envelope.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“You’re Ms. Wainwright?” she asked as she straightened the royal blue vest she wore as an official book fair volunteer. She was breathing heavily.
“Yes. Are you okay?”
“I just ran from the castle? Anyway, that’s for you?” She pointed to the small envelope she’d just handed me.
I absently noted her thinning, frizzy red hair and tendency to end sentences with question marks as I opened the envelope and read the note inside.
I know who killed Kyle. Meet me at St. Margaret’s Chapel at 16:30. Be careful. Tell no one.
I shook the note at the volunteer. “Who gave this to you?”
She cowered at the demand in my voice. “Some lady up at the castle?”
“What did she look like?”
The volunteer screwed up her face as though I were an evil headmaster with a whip.