“Brilliant,” I said.

“We men are a predictable lot.”

He grabbed my hand again and we raced through the kitchen to the back door, just as the front doorbell rang. I could hear Minka shouting Enrico’s name from the front step. She sounded like a fishwife-not that I’d ever heard a true fishwife yelling. It didn’t matter. I had no doubt Minka’s annoying bellows would qualify.

Derek tried the first key and in seconds we were out of the house.

“Enrico, I’ve got my key,” Minka hollered. “I’m coming in.”

“She’s got a mouth,” Derek said. “The entire neighborhood’s going to be alerted.”

We tiptoed around the side of the house just as Minka went through the front door. I could still hear her shouting out his name a few more times.

“Don’t run,” Derek warned as we reached the front sidewalk. “Don’t make eye contact with anyone. Walk as though you belong here. Then drive to the restaurant and park at least a block away. I’ll follow you.”

I didn’t argue. I wanted to be miles away when Minka found Enrico’s body. I walked briskly to my car, started the engine and took off. A few blocks later, I turned right on California Street, found a space and parked.

I could barely catch my breath.

What had I been thinking, walking into Enrico’s house? I had been trespassing on private property. It didn’t matter that I’d had an appointment with Enrico. I didn’t belong there. And all along, he’d been dead in the back room.

I rubbed my arms to fight the chills. Someone had been angry enough to kill him in cold blood. With a gun. Just like Abraham. Why? What had Enrico done? And more importantly, who had he so totally enraged that they’d taken a gun and shot him in the head?

It had to be the same person who had killed Abraham. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

The killer hadn’t ransacked Enrico’s home, so maybe they hadn’t been looking for anything but him. That could mean the Winslows were involved. Once again, I pictured little Meredith in that pretty orange jumpsuit.

But maybe Derek’s arrival had scared the killer off and he planned to return to search the place. Which meant that the person searching the house while Derek and I were hiding in the pantry could be the killer.

What was the real connection between Abraham, Enrico and the murderer? Books, to be sure. But which books? One of the Winslows’ collection? Something from the Covington? Or something to do with the old grudge between the two men?

I had no doubt there was a connection between the two deaths. Find that connection and I would find the murderer.

I would find the murderer? I shuddered. No, thank you. I was going back to my loft and hiding under my bed.

Derek’s black Bentley pulled up half a block in front of me. As I watched him approach my car, his gait purposeful, his eyes studying me as a wild cat might scrutinize his quarry, three things occurred to me.

Number one, Derek Stone was really hot.

Number two, Minka didn’t kill Enrico.

Number three, I knew who the intruder was.

Chapter 14

I’d recognized the intruder’s voice when I heard him utter the oath outside the pantry door.

I stared at Derek as he came closer. I couldn’t tell him what I knew. Not yet. I needed to think, needed to figure out whether to confront the intruder privately, let him know I knew he’d been in Enrico’s home. I debated whether to tell him I knew what he’d been looking for.

Which reminded me, that check for five thousand dollars was burning a hole in my jacket pocket.

I shook my head as I climbed out of my car. Who in the world besides Ian McCullough would’ve said “Feather buckets” when he couldn’t open a recalcitrant door? I’d heard him say it a hundred times over the years. He’d once explained that when he was a boy, his very proper parents had forbidden him and his brothers to curse in the house, so “feather buckets” was the young boys’ coded way of saying “fuck it.”

I couldn’t believe he still used that stupid phrase. Of course, he probably hadn’t expected an old friend to be hiding just behind the very thin door of that pantry when he uttered those words.

I had no doubt Ian had been looking for the five-thousand-dollar check I’d found and now I was absolutely certain Enrico had been blackmailing him. But why? What had Ian done to make himself vulnerable to someone like Enrico Baldacchio?

I really couldn’t see Ian being a killer. From what I’d heard from inside the pantry closet, Ian had literally stumbled onto Enrico’s body, then torn out of the house as if he’d seen a ghost.

The bad news was, Minka couldn’t have killed Enrico, either. Unless she was an extremely good actress, I seriously doubted her ability to shoot the man in cold blood, drive away, then return a while later, shouting his name like the aforementioned fishwife. Even I was forced to admit she wasn’t that stupid.

So who killed Enrico Baldacchio?

I was suddenly paranoid about walking around this part of town, so I found an old Giants cap in my glove box, wrapped my hair up and shoved it under the cap. I climbed out of the car and met Derek on the busy sidewalk. This section of California Street in the Richmond District catered to the wealthy residents of Sea Cliff. There were boutiques, a cheese shop, a butcher, two bakeries and several chic restaurants.

Derek looked at my cap and nodded in approval, but call me surprised when he put his arm around my shoulder and hauled me in close.

“We’ll call the police from that petrol station,” he said, discreetly pointing out the ARCO station across the street as we walked.

“They’ll probably have a pay phone inside the restaurant,” I said.

“Not a good idea,” he said, nuzzling my neck.

“Oh, right.” I could barely think. “Uh, because they’ll trace the call.”

“They don’t have to trace anything. The location pops up on the screen as soon as the dispatcher picks up the call.”

“Ah. Good to know.” Why didn’t I know that? Maybe because I’d just embarked on this new life of crime and still didn’t know all the ropes.

Derek whispered, “We’ll order something first, then call.”

It seemed wrong to put off the call. Maybe not wrong, exactly, but calculated certainly. Enrico was dead and probably wouldn’t care, but it made me feel callous somehow to allow his body to lie there on the carpet, alone, ignored, while I ordered lunch.

Then again, I didn’t want to be connected to his death any more than I already was. Derek was helping me set up a firewall, so to speak. I should be grateful.

My eyes widened as his jaw brushed my chin. I inhaled deeply and caught the scent of his skin. I wasn’t complaining, but what was going on here? Had all the danger and excitement gotten to him?

I guess it had gotten to me, too, because I stared up at him and my mouth went dry. My appetite for food was history and trust me, that never happens.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked. “I’m not going to faint, you know.”

“I didn’t think you were,” he said quietly in my ear.

I trembled from the breathy contact. “Then what’s going on here?”

He bent his head to gaze at me. “We’re pretending to be completely enamored, of course. If the police think to interview anyone around here, they’ll vaguely recall seeing a couple in love walking down the street. They won’t be able to describe a gorgeous blonde and the handsome buck by her side.”

I took a few seconds to appreciate the gorgeous blonde comment. Then I slugged him. “You’re truly a jerk.”

He laughed and hugged me tighter. “I love it when you call me names.”

I smiled and touched his cheek. “In that case, you’re a complete ass.”

“Mmm. Music to my ears.”

I grabbed his lapel and whispered, “For a cop, you know a lot about larcenous behavior.”