One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

of.”
     
    “How’d you get into the building?”
     
    “Your front door takes forever to close, so I got in after him.”
     
    “Well, get out.”
     
    Suzie moved in closer and Minka cringed. Good. Suzie looked a lot tougher than she was, but at times like this, flexing some muscle couldn’t hurt.
     
    “I’m not leaving until I get some of the books Ian delivered to you.”
     
    “What books?”
     
    “Don’t play dumb with me.” She flicked her chin toward the delivery guy. “You’ve got that whole big box of books to restore. I want some.”
     
    “Oh, my God,” I muttered. “You are deranged.”
     
    “Right here okay?” the deliveryman asked.
     
    I whipped around and saw he was standing right where I’d showed him. “Perfect. Thanks.”
     
    “These are the bookshelves you ordered last week?” Vinnie asked. “Can we see them?”
     
    “Yes,” I said, shifting away from Minka. “They’re a really nice oak and they’re going to go on this wall. What do you think?”
     
    “Perfect,” Vinnie said.
     
    “Cool,” Suzie said. “I like books everywhere.”
     
    We watched the deliveryman maneuver the box off the dolly inch by inch; then he held one end and carefully laid it down on the floor. “There you go.”
     
    “Anybody home?” someone bellowed from my front door.
     
    I jolted. Yet another person was at my door?
     
    But Vinnie smiled and said, “It’s Jeremy and Sergio.”
     
    More fun neighbors.
     
    “Come in,” I shouted in the general direction of the front door. “Close the door behind you, please.”
     
    “A party on a Wednesday afternoon—how delicious,” Jeremy said as he hugged me. Then he gazed beyond me toward the kitchen. “Ooh, cookies.”
     
    “Bring the plate over,” I said.
     
    Jeremy went after the cookies, and his boyfriend, Sergio, grabbed me. “Hi, cutie.”
     
    “Hi, Sergio,” I said, patting his back. “How are you?”
     
    “Fabuloso, as always.”
     
    “Brooklyn, darling, are we having a party?”
     
    “Derek?” I spotted him coming through the hall and into the living room. “You’re home early.”
     
    “A good thing, apparently,” he said, kissing me firmly, then wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “I do hate to miss a party.”
     
    Minka shoved me again. “I don’t care if you’re having a party. I want answers. And I want my share of the Covington work.”
     
    I turned on her. “They’re not books, Minka. They’re book
shelves
. I ordered them a week ago.” I realized I was yelling but I couldn’t help it. She was a delusional moron with a left jab that could land you in the hospital.
     
    “Liar!” she cried.
     
    “Oh, my God.” I grabbed my own hair to keep from strangling her. “You’re a lunatic and you’re trespassing. Now leave before I call the police.”
     
    “Hello, Derek,” Vinnie said brightly, ignoring the commotion.
     
    “Vinnie,” he said, giving her a hug as he observed my less-than-amusing tête-à-tête with Minka. “How are you?”
     
    “Very well, thank you.”
     
    “Sign for this?” The deliveryman shoved a clipboard in front of me. A pen was taped to the steel clip.
     
    “Sure.” I signed my name and he tore off a receipt and handed it to me. Then he turned the dolly around and took off for the door.
     
    “Thank you,” I called after him. I heard my front door slam shut and felt momentarily relieved until I realized Minka was still there.
     
    “Cookie?” Jeremy said, holding the plate out.
     
    “Yes.” I shoved half of the cookie into my mouth. “We have milk.”
     
    “Ooh, yummers,” Jeremy said. “I’ll get it.”
     
    “Darling, what’s going on?” Derek leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Where is our houseguest?”
     
    I stood on tiptoe and answered quietly, “On the roof.” I turned and looked around at the confusion. Derek and I gazed at each other, then shrugged and laughed.
     
    “I’ll open some wine,” he said, and I nodded my approval.
     
    “Hey, Brooklyn, aren’t you going to open the box?” Suzie asked as she munched on a cookie.
     
    “Yeah,” Minka snarled as she adjusted her hat. “I’m not leaving until I’ve seen exactly what’s in there.”
     
    “Whoa.” I must have been distracted before, because I was just now getting my first good look at her—and had to shield my eyes.
Pink
and
plastic
were her watchwords today. The shirt was a shiny, one-shoulder creation that stretched across her