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wrong.”
     
    “Except for that knife,” I said. “It’s definitely a papermaker’s knife.”
     
    “You would know best,” he said. “I can see it hurts to think someone in your community might be responsible, but I believe it’s a good thing you saw that knife. Now we know what we’re up against.”
     
    “Do we?” But I knew what he was saying. Now that we were aware that the killer could be someone I knew, Derek and I might be able to sort out who knew what and when they knew it.
     
    I rubbed my forehead where a headache was forming. “I had the strongest urge to grab the knife and throw it away, Derek. I hate to see this happening all over again.”
     
    “It could be an unfortunate coincidence. You might not know the people involved.”
     
    “I suppose,” I said skeptically.
     
    “Or it could be a setup.”
     
    “I’ve considered that, too, obviously.”
     
    He smoothed my hair back from my face. “Brooklyn, darling, this isn’t about you.”
     
    “Mind if I hold you to that?”
     
    “You can hold me to anything you’d like,” he murmured, and kissed my neck.
     
    I stared into his smoldering blue eyes and felt sparks ignite inside me. It continued to amaze me that Derek seemed to have the same reaction to me as I had to him. I hugged him a little tighter, then reluctantly pulled away. There was something wrong about snuggling within a few feet of a dead body.
     
    On the other hand, there was a dead body just a few feet away, so what better time to seek comfort? I rested my head against his chest and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. We stayed like that for a few minutes while the muted voices of the two officers in the other room wafted toward us. I couldn’t hear what they were saying and didn’t really want to. I just wished Derek and I could walk out the door and go home.
     
    But no such luck. The front door swung open and SFPD Detective Inspector Janice Lee walked inside. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite dead-body magnet.”
     
    I cringed. She didn’t mince words. But at least I was her favorite.
     
    “Commander Stone,” she said, greeting Derek in a more respectful tone. He had been, after all, a member of law enforcement.
     
    “Hello, Inspector,” Derek said pleasantly, as I buried my face in the lapel of his thousand-dollar suit. I wasn’t shy; I just didn’t think it would be wise to flash her the dirty look I had on my face in response to her smart-ass comment.
     
    After a few more seconds, I calmed my features, turned, and smiled tightly. “Hi, Inspector. Long time, no see.”
     
    “Not long enough, Wainwright,” she said, smirking, then sobered up and glanced around the front room of Joe’s shop. Janice Lee was a first-generation Chinese American woman who took care of her mom, dressed way too fashionably for a cop, and had the most beautiful hair I’d ever seen. Lately, she was always sucking on a mint, probably to keep from smoking, a habit she’d given up only a few months ago. She was about my age, tall, thin, smart, and snarky, and I liked her a lot. We could’ve been great friends if only I weren’t such a dead-body magnet, as she’d pointed out.
     
    “Figures we’d be surrounded by books,” she muttered, peering around at the bookshelves. “So where’s the body?”
     
    “Right through there,” I said, gesturing toward the antiquarian room.
     
    She pulled her notepad out of the pocket of her gorgeous black Burberry trench coat. I was the furthest thing from a fashion maven, but I knew it was Burberry because I could see the coat’s signature plaid lining when she moved. Forgive my weakness at a moment like this, but I was having trench coat envy.
     
    “Stick around, Brooklyn,” she said. “I’m looking forward to hearing all the gory details on this one.” Then she strolled off down the narrow center aisle to check out the crime scene.
     
    By late afternoon, I’d given Inspector Lee and her partner, Inspector