Текст книги "Crowned and Moldering"

Автор книги: Kate Carlisle

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Read on for an excerpt from Kate Carlisle’s new Bibliophile mystery,

BOOKS OF A FEATHER

Coming in hardcover in June 2016 from Obsidian.

Chapter 1

As soon as I closed and locked my front door, I sagged in relief. I usually worked at home, so being gone all day was unusual for me. But after a moment, I perked up, knowing Derek was already here; I’d seen his car parked in the space next to mine.

Derek Stone was my fiancé and . . .

Fiancé. It was still odd to say the word out loud, let alone think it, but it was true. It was real. We were getting married, and how crazy was that? The two of us had almost nothing in common. I’d been raised in a peace-love-and-happiness artistic commune in the wine country and I wore Birkenstocks to work. Derek had been a highly trained operative with England’s MI6, and he carried a gun. Think James Bond but more dangerous, more handsome, more everything. I was crazy in love with him. I figured that the old adage that opposites attract had to be true because he loved me right back.

He had proposed two months ago, the night my friend Robin married my brother Austin. Of course I said yes. Duh! Since then, we’d barely had a chance to talk about a wedding or anything else related to getting married. We’d been living temporarily in Sonoma, and Derek had been commuting back and forth to the city while our apartment in town was being remodeled. And that was happening because months ago, Derek had purchased the smaller apartment next door to mine and we’d decided to join the two places together.

We had only been back in town a week. Our place was still in a state of flux, to put it mildly. We’d been rearranging furniture and picking out new stuff and doing all those things you did when you suddenly had two extra bedrooms and a much bigger living room. It was fun and time-consuming and a little bit mind-boggling. I occasionally had to stop and pinch myself.

So no, there hadn’t been much time to discuss wedding plans. We’d get around to it one of these days.

With a happy sigh, I slid the case that held my bookbinding tools under my worktable and set my satchel on the counter.

“Derek, I’m home,” I called, even though he probably knew it already. He was preternaturally aware of everything that went on around us. Besides, our freight elevator tended to shake the entire building when it rose up from the basement parking garage, thus acting as an early-warning signal. I liked to think it made things more difficult for bad guys to sneak up on us, an excellent selling feature, given the number of times my place had been broken in to by bad guys.

“Hello, darling,” he called from somewhere in the house.

“Wait’ll you see all the amazing books I got from Genevieve,” I shouted as I hung up my peacoat in the small closet by the door. “They’re so valuable. I can’t believe Joe lost track of them. One of them is probably worth at least forty-five thou—”

“Brooklyn,” Derek interrupted loudly, his tone a bit more urgent than usual. “We have company.”

I grimaced. In other words, Shut up, Brooklyn. I could tell from Derek’s voice that our company was a person or people I didn’t know. Our friends and family were all completely trustworthy. They knew I worked with rare and often priceless books. But even though I trusted our friends, I was still awfully paranoid about showing off the books I worked on. You just never knew.

I’d even taken precautions before leaving Genevieve’s shop, tucking the books away in a zippered compartment inside my satchel, which I’d worn strapped across my torso and had clutched all the way to my car. I never took chances with books. And yet here I was, blurting out all my secrets to anyone within earshot.

To be fair though, I was inside my own house. I should’ve been able to shout out whatever I wanted to, once I’d locked the door behind me. But no.

“Okay,” I called out, trying to sound nonchalant. “Be right there.” But first, I needed a minute to collect my wits, if I still had any left to collect. I turned in a circle, scanning my workshop for a long moment, looking for a good hiding place. There were lots of them. Besides my worktable in the center of the room, I had three walls of cupboards and counters that held all sorts of equipment and supplies. At the end of one counter was my built-in desk.

I grabbed my satchel and pulled out the eight books—the eight rare, extremely valuable books that I’d just blabbed about loudly—and carefully slipped them into the bottom drawer of my desk and locked it. I would’ve preferred to stash them inside the steel-lined safe in the hall near our bedroom, but this would have to do for now.

I felt almost silly for taking such precautions. Was I being overly suspicious? As quickly as the thought emerged, I brushed it away. There were plenty of people in the world who were willing to lie, cheat, steal, or kill for a book. Better safe than sorry, I thought, and rushed down the hall to the living room to greet Derek and our company.

Derek stood by the bar that separated the kitchen from the living area, pouring red wine into three glasses. Another man, wearing a beautiful navy suit, had his back to me. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could see he had straight black hair and was nearly as tall as Derek. He had just said something that caused Derek to laugh. I stopped and listened to that deep, sexy sound.

“And there she is,” Derek said, spying me at last. “Darling, come meet Crane, one of my oldest friends.”

“I’m not that old,” the other man joked as he turned and stared at me. “Ah, how delightful.”

If I’d been walking, I might’ve stumbled. The man was Asian and spoke with a British accent, and he was simply . . . beautiful. Not as dashing or as blatantly masculine and tough as Derek, but then, who was? Still, Crane’s smile was brilliant and his dark eyes twinkled with humor. He moved with a natural ease and confidence that made him even more attractive. No man should be that pretty, I thought vaguely.

It was a bit overwhelming to have two such gorgeous men smiling at me, but I decided I could endure it. I hurried over to the bar to give Derek a quick hug and kiss, then turned to our guest and extended my hand.

“Hello, Crane. I’m Brooklyn.”

His smile grew as he gripped my hand warmly. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you, Brooklyn. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I glanced at Derek. He’d never said one word to me about his friend Crane before. And yet the man knew all about me? Hmm.

Derek bit back a grin, clearly reading my mind. “Darling, Crane and I were in school together. I haven’t seen him in five long years, which led me to believe he was probably languishing in a federal penitentiary.”

Crane laughed. “I always figured you’d be the one to wind up on the wrong side of the law.” He shook his head in mock dismay. “Instead, you joined forces with the good guys.”

Derek shrugged. “Considering our misspent youth, it’s surprising we both turned out this well.”

Crane nodded at me. “It was always a competition to see which of us could cause the most havoc in school.”

“You won in the end,” Derek admitted, handing each of us a wineglass. “But only through a technicality.”

I gazed at Crane. “How did you win?”

“He cheated,” Derek said dryly. “He came into his inheritance and nothing was the same after that.”

“It’s true. Money changes everything,” Crane admitted with a worldly sigh. “It’s not as much fun getting into trouble when you know you can simply bribe your way out of a jam.”

Derek chuckled. “I, for one, am grateful for a few of those bribes.”

I looked from one man to the other. “I’d love to hear stories of Derek causing havoc.”

Crane leaned close. “I’ll tell you everything, but first”—straightening, he held up his glass—“a toast, to old friends and new.”

We clinked glasses and took our initial sips of the excellent Pinot Noir Derek had poured.

“And as long as we’re toasting,” Crane added, “I understand congratulations and best wishes are in order.”

“Oh.” I gazed up at Derek and touched my glass to his. I don’t know why, but I was truly moved that he’d told his friend about our engagement. The two of us had barely discussed it since we’d been home from Dharma. I looked back at his friend. “Thank you, Crane.”

Crane raised an eyebrow. “You’re a lucky man, Stone.”

“I know,” Derek said, and kissed my cheek.

Happily flustered, I moved into the kitchen and quickly put together a cheese platter along with a bowl of crackers and some olives. Derek ushered Crane over to the living room, where we all sat to talk.

Crane leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Derek tells me you work with rare books.”

I wanted to bite my tongue, knowing Crane must’ve heard me shouting about the pricey books I’d brought home. Now that we’d officially met and I knew he was one of Derek’s oldest friends, I almost felt guilty for hiding them from him. “Yes, I’m a bookbinder. I take books apart and clean them up and put them back together again.”

“She’s being modest,” Derek said. “Brooklyn has a unique gift for repairing the rarest of books. Almost like a skilled surgeon.”

“Without all the blood,” I murmured.

“But she’s also an artist,” he continued. “She’s designed some fantastic book art.”

I felt my cheeks heating up. I knew Derek appreciated my work, but all this lavish praise was going straight to my heart.

He touched my knee. “Darling, Crane has an impressive art collection. I think he would enjoy seeing your work.”

“I would indeed,” Crane said, helping himself to a cracker. “I collect all sorts of art, including books. I’d like to see your work sometime.”

After a glance at Derek, I made a quick decision and turned to his friend. “You’re welcome to join us tomorrow night at the Covington Library. They’re having a big party to celebrate the opening of a new exhibit featuring Audubon’s massive book of bird illustrations. It’s a real masterpiece.”

He looked taken aback. “Thank you for the invitation. I’d love to join you.”

“And while we’re there, I’d be happy to show you some of the books I’ve worked on.” I started to take a sip of wine, but stopped. “That is, if you’re not otherwise engaged.”

Crane flashed me a spectacular smile. “I’m not. I’d be delighted to see everything you can show me.”

“Good,” Derek said. “It’s settled, then.”

“I was actually going to invite you both to dinner tomorrow night,” Crane said. “Perhaps we can dine together before or after.”

“We’d like that very much,” Derek said, and relaxed against the back cushions of the couch. “Here’s a bit of history for you, Crane. Brooklyn and I met at the Covington Library.”

I almost laughed. Derek and I had indeed met at the Covington. It was the night my mentor was killed and Derek accused me of murder. Was it any wonder we fell in love?

“Ah,” Crane said. “So the place has a special meaning for you.”

“It does,” Derek said.

I smiled at him. “And this time we’ll make sure there aren’t any dead bodies to worry about.”

Unfortunately, Derek didn’t smile back. If fact, he looked at me as though I were crazy, making me realize I’d just tempted fate in the worst possible way.

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