Kate Carlisle - The Lies That Bind

On the night of Layla’s death, the police had confiscated her computer. What they found among her personal and business records were several bank accounts to which large deposits were made on a regular basis. A separate ledger with three different entries noted down payments of twenty thousand dollars each, for the books listed, with the merchandise scheduled to be turned over that very week.

“ Down payments? Of twenty thousand dollars? For each book?” I mentally picked my jaw up off the floor. “Was there a list of the books being sold?”

“Yes,” Derek said, then tasted the deep red wine.

“Well?” I waited, but he was intent on torturing me as he swirled the wineglass, then took another sip. “Derek, swallow the damn wine and tell me what books they were.”

“Patience, darling. Your father wouldn’t approve of my drinking something this exquisite any other way.”

“You’re right,” I grumbled, and slumped back against the booth. “Just tell me if one of the books was an Oliver Twist ?”

His eyes sparkled as he set down his glass. “I think you’ve already guessed.”

“It was,” I whispered, then tried to put the pieces together. “I thought it was being saved for the silent auction, but the real reason Naomi didn’t want to sell me the book was because it was already promised to another buyer.”

The wine steward poured more lovely red liquid into my glass. When he left, I looked at Derek. “There’s no way that Oliver Twist is worth twenty thousand dollars, and that’s just the down payment. I mean, I did a damn good job of restoring it, but how much did Layla expect to get paid? Whatever it was, it’s a completely fraudulent deal.”

“Yes,” he said, and bit into a succulent piece of beef. “And where does Naomi fit in?”

“I don’t know.” I cut into a pillowy ravioli square.

“Well, I can tell you that the police went by to speak with Naomi Monday night.”

“I saw them come in.” I swallowed the bite and almost swooned. The buttery ravioli sauce was extraordinary. “Oh, my, I need a moment.”

“It’s rather good, isn’t it?”

“It’s heaven.” I took a sip of wine, then exhaled softly. “Ah. Where was I? Oh, yes, the police showed up during the wake, just as the crowd was thinning out. Inspector Lee had Naomi in her sights and it looked as if they were going to arrest her. But she was back at work last night, free as a bird.”

“They merely confiscated her computer,” Derek revealed. “They’ve combed through it. It appears she knew nothing about these prepayments.”

“Oh, she knew,” I said, absently pointing my fork at him. “She’s hiding something. Why else would she be so nervous when I asked her about the Oliver Twist ?”

“And this was the same Oliver Twist that Layla mentioned she was auctioning off at the Twisted festival?”

I considered the answer as I munched on a perfectly prepared haricot vert. “I thought so, but now I’m not sure. If it’s listed as a presale, how can they be auctioning it off?”

“Are there two Oliver Twists , perhaps?”

“I have no idea,” I said, grabbing my wineglass.

“I believe we should pay another visit to Naomi.”

As we drove away from the restaurant, I called Inspector Lee to explain the situation. I described Naomi’s reaction when I’d mentioned I wanted to buy the Oliver Twist .

“I’m willing to swear she knew about Layla’s prepayments,” I said. “I’m going to confront her, with or without a police presence.”

“With,” Inspector Lee barked into the phone. “You’ll wait for me.”

“Gladly,” I said, and winked at Derek. He’d already bet she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

“And just so you know,” Lee said. “We gave her back that Oliver Twist book a few days ago.”

I stared at Derek.

“The plot thickens,” he murmured.

“Yes, doesn’t it just?” So last night when I’d asked Naomi if I could buy the Oliver Twist , she’d already obtained it from the police. She had to have known exactly what book I was talking about. And judging from the dull pallor of her skin when I told her it wasn’t a first edition, I was willing to bet she’d already sold it.

It was midnight when we parked the Bentley in front of the building, so I doubted we would find Naomi at work. Inspector Lee was already there, waiting with two other cops. BABA was locked up for the night, but low lights shined through the textured glass section of the door.

Sure enough, after Inspector Lee hammered her fist on the door for almost a minute, Ned lumbered over to let us in.

“Huh,” he said. “Late.”

“Yeah, go back to sleep,” Lee said.

“ ’Kay.”

Ned trundled off and Lee led the way to Naomi’s office and pushed the door open. “You’re working late, Ms. Fontaine.”

Naomi jerked and shrieked at the same time. “You scared the hell out of me! What do you want? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Then you won’t mind showing me what you’re working on,” Lee said. She rounded the desk and grabbed the minicomputer. I was pretty sure it was a move that wouldn’t hold up in court, but I liked it.

“You already took my work computer!” Naomi cried, trying to grab it back. “This one’s mine!”

“Looks like an Excel spreadsheet,” Lee said, and made eye contact with me as she began to read off the screen. “It’s a list of books and prices. What’s this column?” She squinted at the small screen. “Date acquired. Date purchased. Date completed.”

“We often sell our books,” Naomi whined. “It’s not a crime. The books belong to Layla. I mean, me.”

“But passing a book off as more rare or better than it really is to gain a higher price is a crime,” I said. “It’s called fraud. It’s like theft, only really worse.” Okay, I was blathering. I silently beseeched Inspector Lee to pick up the ball.

Her gaze narrowed in on Naomi. “Are you defrauding your clients, Ms. Fontaine?”

Naomi took a deep, shuddering breath. “I didn’t know it was fraud! Layla has all these people she sells books to, and they were calling me. They wanted their money. Or… or they wanted their books. One man came by and he was not kidding around. He threatened me, told me I’d be sorry if I didn’t comply, so I gave him the book he wanted.”

“The Oliver Twist ?” I asked.

Her face was a mask of shock and pain. “He said Layla promised it to him. He said he already paid her part of the money, so I gave him the book and he gave me the rest of the money.”

She gasped. It was clear she wished she hadn’t brought up the money. But she had, and I believed her admission signified that she wasn’t cut out to be as wicked as her auntie Layla.

“What did this man look like?” Lee asked. “The one who gave you the money?”

“He was…” Naomi winced and looked away.

“Go ahead,” Lee coaxed.

She took a deep breath. “He was Asian.”

“Ah, my people,” Lee muttered. “So? Tall? Fat? Short? Bald?”

“Tall. Normal build.” She gazed up at Lee with a sycophantic smile. “He was really nice-looking.”

“Swell. Did you get a name?”

Eager to please now, Naomi nodded. “Mr. Soo.”

“And how much money did he give you?”

Naomi chewed her lower lip. Now I could see her brain calculating how much to tell us.

“How much money, Ms. Fontaine?” Lee repeated, softly this time, but with more deadly intent.

Naomi’s shoulders shook nervously. “Ten thousand dollars.”

“In cash?”

She nodded, clearly miserable at having to disclose the true amount.