“You don’t have to bother, Brooklyn. I really like libraries, and this one is pretty fantastic. I’m happy to just wander around.”

  I smiled at him. “I don’t mind taking a few minutes to point out some highlights.”

  Tom gave a slight bow of his head. “Then if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate that.”

  So I did just that, showing him the most interesting exhibits—to me anyway—that the Covington had running. He enjoyed the giant Audubon book of birds and the different Shakespeare folios.

  I caught him staring up at the walls and smiled. “Pretty impressive, isn’t it?”

  “That’s a lot of books,” he said.

  “Are you much of a reader, Tom?”

  “I’m a real fan of the library.” He glanced around. “I mean, the regular library. I try to check out five books a week.”

  “That’s a lot of reading.”

  “My life is pretty simple these days,” he admitted. “But even in the past when things were looking dark, books always got me through the rough spots.”

  I walked with him down to the smaller galleries and we talked about reading. He liked experimenting with all sorts of genres and he read a lot of nonfiction, too.

  In the hall leading to the small galleries, I explained what treasures each room held. At the last minute I decided not to show him the poison exhibit. Hobson had just been killed this morning and we still didn’t know who the intended victim was. That exhibit might hit too close to home for now.

  But I did point the way to the children’s museum. “If you have a chance to visit, I think you’ll enjoy it. The exhibits are much more whimsical and user-friendly. Some are even hands on.”

  “Sounds like a good time.”

  “It is. And that’s where the kids will be painting the fence tomorrow. You know, the Tom Sawyer thing?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m supposed to be there for that.”

  “I hear that you and Joseph are expected to be at all the events this week.”

  “That’s right. I’ve got a pretty full schedule to follow.”

  “Well, you can check out the children’s space right now and then you’ll know where to go tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “Thanks, Brooklyn. I appreciate it.”

  “Brooklyn!”

  I turned and watched Inspector Lee jogging toward me from the main hall. “Hey, you made it.”

  She stopped short when she saw Tom standing next to me. “Hello, Mr. Cantwell.”

  “Hey there,” Tom said with a curt nod.

  “Of course, you two have met,” I said. Tom mentioned that he’d been interviewed by the detective earlier at the house.

  “Yeah, we’re acquainted,” Inspector Lee said. To Tom she said, “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Tom said. “I’ve got some of my buddies outside.”

  “Is your buddy Wyatt out there?” she asked.

  Tom frowned, clearly not trusting the woman—a cop. “Maybe. Why do you want to know?”

  “Because he was at Mr. Cabot’s house with you last night and he was with you earlier today. He might be able to help with our investigation.”

  “He didn’t see anything.”

  “Sometimes a person doesn’t know what he saw until I ask him specific questions.” She wasn’t defensive and she didn’t get in his face. She just spoke normally and I appreciated it. “He might’ve seen the messenger drop off that envelope. Or he could’ve seen a suspicious person near the house.” She appealed to his good nature. “I’m hoping he’ll be able to help me out.”

  I could tell that Tom was reluctant, but finally gave in. “Yeah, okay. But don’t badger him. He’s a sensitive guy.”

  Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “I rarely badger. I’m more of a pester-and-nag type of person.”

  Tom gave a hesitant smile. “Okay. But I’m about to hit the road and he’ll be leaving with me.”

  “Okay, look.” She checked her wristwatch. “I’ve got to take care of one thing here with Brooklyn. Would you mind hanging around for another fifteen or twenty minutes? No longer than that. I’d really appreciate it.”

  He had to think about it. Finally he said, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll look around in here for a few more minutes, then we’ll be waiting in that garden out there.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Cantwell.”

  “It’s Tom.”

  She grinned. “Thanks, Tom.”

  “See you, Brooklyn,” he said. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome, Tom.”

  As soon as Tom walked away, I pulled out my phone. “I need to call Derek and have him contact Tom’s driver. I don’t want Tom walking around, especially at night.”

  “Brooklyn, he walks all over town almost every day.”

  “Yeah, but someone tried to run him down this morning.”

  She gave me a look that defined incredulity. “Good to know. Call the driver. Then you and I will talk.”

  * * *

  • • •

  After I told her what had happened to Tom and how Wyatt had saved the day, Inspector Lee and I looked through the Poisoned Papers exhibit.

  I led her past several examples where poisons were used to heighten the color of some Renaissance-era manuscripts.

  Then I stopped in front of the golden-hued newspaper story. “Here’s the scenario that was used to kill Hobson.”

  She read the descriptions and looked at the photographs. “It seems awfully complicated and dangerous,” she admitted.

  “It wouldn’t be too hard if you know what you’re doing,” I said. “And as for being dangerous, that’s true, but only after several steps are taken.”

  “Yeah, and when those steps are taken, you can kill someone.”

  “That’s true. But the powder and the adhesive are inert until they’re mixed together.”

  “Right,” she said. “So do yourself a favor and don’t mix them together.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  With a light snort, she read more details of the golden-hued newspaper poisoning. When she had finished reading, she turned to me. “So I’m right in thinking that this spells out the entire method used in the poisoning this morning.”

  “It doesn’t give step-by-step instructions,” I said. “But if you know anything about chemistry and poisons, you can figure it out.”

  “Fascinating,” she murmured.

  “I know, right?”

  “Yeah. And I’m concerned that if someone was able to poison the butler this easily, I should probably shut this exhibit down.”

  “What?” I said. “No!”

  She smirked. “Really, Brooklyn?”

  I made a really sad face. “I know what you’re saying, but do you really have to shut the whole thing down?”

  “Look, I get the historical significance of all this, but it obviously gave someone a textbook plan to kill the butler. And if one person can figure that out, so can others.”

  “I know you’re right. It’s just that this exhibit is so cool.” My shoulders slumped. “Don’t you hate it when someone comes along and wrecks it for the rest of us?”

  “That’s why we can’t have nice things,” she said, patting my back.

  “I really loved this exhibit.”

  “That’s because you’re a twisted girl, Brooklyn.”

  “I know, I know.” I scowled at her. “But you’re a killjoy.”

  “And proud of it.”

  My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket. “It’s Derek.”

  “Answer it,” she said.

  “Hi, Derek,” I said. “I’m here with Inspector Lee and she says hello.”

  Inspector Lee held up her hand. “I have to go.”

  “Derek, can you hold on? Inspector Lee is taking off.”

  “Of course,” he said. “I’ll wait.”

  “Thanks for the tour,” she said. “I’m going to go talk to Wyatt and the rest of Tom’s friends now. Maybe I’ll see you at the next event.”

  “It’s the Riverboat Casino tonight and then fence painting here tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” She dashed off to meet Wyatt and I hoped the man was stable enough to be able to handle the police interview.

  I brought the phone back to my ear. “Hi. Are you on your way home?”

  “Yes,” Derek said. “You’re still at the Covington?”

  “I’m walking out right now.”

  “Then I’ll meet you at home,” he said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  Chapter 14

  Right is right, and wrong is wrong, and a body ain’t got no business doing wrong when he ain’t ignorant and knows better.

  —Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

  Derek and I didn’t get a chance to talk right away because he barely made it home before it was time to leave for the riverboat. And on the drive over to the Embarcadero, just as we were about to delve into our individual stories of the day, Derek received an important phone call from his agent in Europe and had to spend the next twenty minutes debriefing him.

  “He made it to the embassy,” Derek announced when he ended the call.

  “That sounds like good news.”

  “It is.” But he gave me a look of regret. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more without breaching national security.”

  “So if you told me, you’d have to kill me?”

  He tried to hide his smile. “Exactly. So don’t push me, because I would miss you.”

  “That’s so sweet,” I said, pressing my hands to my heart. But I didn’t bug him to share the details. I figured he would tell me everything eventually, around the same time as the rest of the world heard about it.

  I anticipated that the Riverboat Casino Night would be a fun event, but I was still feeling too nervous to enjoy it. After all, the day had started with Hobson’s murder and ended with the news of a possible hit-and-run driver aimed at Tom. How could I get into a party vibe?

  But as I stepped onto the deck of the boat, I reconsidered. First, because everyone seemed to be having a fabulous time. And second, because nobody appeared to be dead.

  That was a win-win in anybody’s book.

  In addition to that, this authentic riverboat had been lovingly restored with every surface gleaming in the last rays of sunlight. There was a good crowd, the big band sounded fabulous, the casino games were always fun, and the prizes promised to be outstanding.

  For me and others, the real highlight of the evening was the variety of costumes that the guests wore, particularly the women. Ella and Ingrid stood out, having outdone themselves by dressing as old-time dance hall girls. Their outfits were colorful if a little tacky, with their brightly colored ruffled skirts worn well above their knees and their very low-cut tops.

  I was surprised that those two had gotten into the spirit of the moment, despite the reality of Hobson’s murder earlier that day. It was a relief to see it. They flirted and laughed with the guests and even performed an impromptu can-can dance, sashaying around the deck, swinging their skirts up and shaking their booties, to the delight of everyone on board.

  I had no idea if the riverboats of Mark Twain’s time had employed dance hall girls, but nobody seemed to care whether historical accuracy was enforced or not. Everyone was having too much fun. And when Ella laughed, I could see what had originally appealed to Joseph. She really was charming and beautiful when she wanted to be.

  I couldn’t figure out what made Ella and Ingrid tick. I knew for a fact that Ingrid had nothing but contempt for events such as this one, and that went double for the upcoming Jumping Frog Contest. I didn’t know Ella’s opinion of the festival or the individual events, but I knew her mother had a big influence over her. Yet here they were, going above and beyond to make everyone think they were having the best time ever.

  Tom and Joseph were both dressed as riverboat captains, complete with those fancy garters around their elbows to hold up their sleeves. As Joseph explained to the crowd, the garters were a practical fashion accessory for working men everywhere and they pulled off the look with flair. The crowd, after plenty of cheers and laughter, had to agree.

  Joseph had the microphone and cheerfully announced every time someone won a big poker hand. I didn’t know how he could maintain that jovial quality after he’d lost his close friend and butler only hours before. But he’d been through some bad times in his life and it looked as though sheer determination and will would get him through this one, too.

  The casino tables had been placed across the main deck and there were several bars scattered about, as well. An elegant buffet was available on the next deck up, which some of the crew referred to as the “hurricane deck.” There was every kind of food anyone could possibly want, including pasta with different sauces, tacos with all the trimmings, beautifully prepared steaks, and veggie kababs. This was San Francisco, after all, so there were choices for vegans, vegetarians, pescatarians, and meat lovers alike. And then there were the dessert platters. All I could say was, nobody would go hungry tonight.

  Up on the very top deck, the big band musicians were playing the hits of that era. It wasn’t exactly what Mark Twain would’ve been listening to, but this crowd was loving it. And dancing to it, too.

  While Derek called his team together for a quick meeting, I glanced around and spied Ian and Jake at the roulette table. I crossed the deck to give them both hugs, then Ian said, “First, let’s get you a cocktail.”

  Jake asked, “What will you have?”

  “A vodka tonic,” I said. “And I’m just having one.”

  “Are you driving?”

  “No, but Derek is on duty tonight so I want to be halfway aware of things, just in case.”

  “On duty?” Ian asked. “As in secret agent duty?”

  I glanced around, hoping nobody had overheard that. “He’s got a few security guys here tonight. Just for good measure.”

  “Would this have anything to do with the murder this morning at Joseph’s house?” Jake asked.

  I winced. “You know I can’t talk about it.”

  Ian winked at me. “That’s okay, sweetie. We’ll talk later.”

  “Let me put a bet down for you,” Jake said, fiddling with a handful of poker chips. “It’ll cheer you up. What’s your lucky number?”

  “Seventeen.” I grabbed that number out of thin air, then remembered it was my mom’s birthdate. Guess we’d see how lucky it was.

  “Okay, here goes.” He placed two poker chips on seventeen black, and the dealer began to spin the wheel.

  It took almost a minute for the thing to slow down and for that little ball to bounce around and finally land. On number seventeen.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “Girl!” Jake cried. “You won!”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said.

  “Believe it.”

  The dealer handed me a fistful of green tickets. “Here’s your winnings, ma’am.”

  “These should be yours,” I said, holding them out to Jake.

  Jake held up both hands. “No way. Your number, your prize.”

  I stared at all the green tickets. “How come there are so many?”

  “Because of the odds,” Ian explained.

  “The house pays thirty-five to one in roulette,” Jake continued. “And since I put two chips down for you, you get seventy chips back.”

  “Which they pay in tickets.” I held up all of my green tickets. “I get it.”

  “That’s right, Greenie,” Jake said, chuckling.

  Ian grinned. “Looks like green is your new signature color.”

  “Looks good on you,” Jake agreed.

  I smiled. “Who knew?” I would have to remember to thank my mom for being born on that day in June.

  Since this was a charity event, nobody would actually win any real money tonight, but we would win gift cards and all sorts of great prizes that had been donated by dozens of companies and individuals who loved the Covington—or just loved a charitable deduction. Everyone attending had been given a certain number of poker chips to play with. When someone left a table, they’d trade each poker chip for a green ticket. At the end of the night we would bring our green tickets to the cashier and that was where we’d collect the gift cards and other prizes, depending on how many green tickets we amassed. The remainder of the proceeds would go to the Covington Library Foundation.

  That was fine with me because it wasn’t about the money; it was about having a good time. And contributing to the Covington. And of course, celebrating the life and works of Mark Twain. Joseph was very good to give us regular reminders of why we were here.

  “Somebody’s a big winner.”

  I turned and saw Ashley standing a few feet away.

  Ian gave her a big hug. “Hi, beautiful.”

  “Ashley, pumpkin!” Jake said, and grabbed her in a quick hug. “You look gorgeous.”

  She beamed with pleasure, and I would bet that he was the only person on the planet allowed to call her “pumpkin.” She wore the chic, modern equivalent of the dance hall girl look with a short, black sequined dress with fringe on the short sleeves and along the swingy hem. The fringe shimmied with every move she made.

  “Hey,” I said. “How are you, Ashley?”

  “I’m doing really well, Brooklyn, but looks like you’re doing even better. How did you win all that so quickly?”

  “It’s roulette,” I said with a happy shrug. “There’s no skill. It’s all luck.”

  “Well, it looks like your luck is riding high.”

  “How are things going on your end with the festival?”

  “Oh! You wouldn’t believe how many people have tweeted and posted photos of men they think are Tom and Joseph. Thousands! And what’s really incredible is that the Clarion subscription numbers have almost doubled in just the last few days. Joseph is totally psyched. It’s a real phenomenon!”