6 - Pages of Sin

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    First E-Book Printing, January 2012
     
Copyright © Kathleen Beaver, 2012
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    ISBN : 978-1-101-53679-7
     

     
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Chapter One
     
    “How do you feel about old books?” my mother asked, clutching a dark blue teapot as she sat down at the table in her spacious, sunny kitchen.
    “You know I love old books,” I said, holding my mug steady while she filled it with hot, fragrant Earl Grey tea. “Was that a trick question?”
    I was staying with my parents for a few days while I taught a two-day book-repair class at the Dharma branch of the Sonoma County Library. Teaching the class had given me the perfect excuse to escape San Francisco while my boyfriend, Derek Stone, was out of the country on a top secret assignment. He’s a former British intelligence agent. I don’t ask questions.
    I’m a bookbinder who specializes in rare book restoration. Old books are my life as well as my livelihood. So I had to wonder what my mother had in mind with that question.
    Mom poured herself a cup of tea and set the teapot on a rooster-shaped iron trivet we’d had forever. “A friend wants to get rid of a bunch of old books, but some of them might be in bad shape.”
    “The moldier the better,” I said with a grin. “I’m a sucker for rotted-out leather bindings.”
    “Then you may be in luck.” Mom squeezed a few drops of lemon juice into her mug, then added, “But there’s a catch. You have to help me pack them up.”
    “I don’t mind packing them up as long as I get to keep them. Who’s giving them away?”
    “Do you remember Wanda Frawley?”
    “Wanda?” I pictured a pretty, dark-haired woman who always wore a scarf around her neck. “Of course. You used to be great friends with her. I thought she moved away.”
    “No,” she said, not meeting my gaze as she fussed with and straightened the yellow gingham tablecloth.
    I frowned. “But I haven’t seen her around town in years. Whatever happened to her?”
    “Nothing really happened to her.” Mom paused. “Well, except that she died recently.”
    “Oh, Mom.” I reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. I remember she was