At Robin’s desk, I pulled out a hotel notepad and once again wrote down any and all possible suspects. The list wasn’t very long. My best suspect was dead. I was running out of possibilities and I had to face facts. Rather than the two dead men, I was the one who seemed to be the common denominator. So everyone I knew went on the list, including Royce, Martin, even Winnie Paine, the elderly IAAB president, along with Helen, Serena and Minka.

I decided not to add Gabriel, since he’d had the perfect opportunity to kill me last night and hadn’t done so-not that I’d ever suspected he was capable of it. I also didn’t list Derek or my parents or Robin. But I did write down the names of my friends Peter and Benny and four other booksellers I was friendly with. I knew it hadn’t been a woman running through my room during the night, but I was leaving no stone unturned. Maybe one of them had a male accomplice.

There was a knock on the door. Robin muttered into her pillow.

I shook her leg and said, “Get up, girlfriend. We have company.”

She grunted as I answered the door. It was MacLeod and Derek, and I was glad I’d changed out of my luscious plaid jammies.

“Come on in,” I said, leading the way inside, where I flung the curtains open and pulled the desk chair out. “Have a seat. Robin, company’s here.”

Robin burbled some profanity, then rolled over, opened her eyes and shrieked like a girl. She jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Derek bit back a grin, but MacLeod’s eyes goggled as though he’d seen a vision. Robin did not sleep in plaid jammies, to say the least.

“What’s up?” I asked Derek, as MacLeod seemed incapable of speech.

“You had an interesting night,” Derek said, leaning one hip against the desk.

“That’s one way to put it,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So much excitement, yet you didn’t call.”

Uh-oh.

I could tell he was offended. Crap, I hated that. But what to say? I couldn’t mention Gabriel.

“I called the police,” I said, which was totally true. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought I’d lost the book and I was searching around for it, and by the time I found it, the police were knocking on the door. Then Robin came down to help me pack…”

I was an idiot.

He probably thought the same thing as he listened to me blather.

Angus’s phone rang and he excused himself to talk in the hall.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” I said, almost ready to cry. And I really was sorry. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t called him, but to say I’d had a crazy night was putting it mildly.

“I should’ve called,” I said, shaking my head. “I was completely distracted and stupid.”

He stood and walked over, pulled me into his arms and held me. “I don’t quite have your trust, do I, love?”

I buried my face in his divinely warm wool jacket. God, he smelled like heaven. “I’m getting there.”

He rubbed my back, then gave me a squeeze. “We’ll work on it.”

I pulled back and searched his face for some deeper meaning to his words. How would we work on it? Did we have anything to work on? We lived on opposite sides of the planet. Would I ever see him again after this week?

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.”