I abandoned the oversweetened drawl. “Look, Inspector, what I’m saying is that I’ve given up. I’m not asking you or anyone else to continue the investigation. I know your department is overloaded. I know there are no leads. I know it’s unsolved and I accept that my sister’s case is closed.”

“How…suddenly mature of you, Ms. Lane.”

“A sister’s death can make a girl grow up fast.” That much was true.

“I guess that means you’ll be flying home soon, then.”

“Tomorrow,” I lied.

“What airline?”

“Continental.”

“What flight?”

“I can never remember. I’ve got it written down somewhere. Upstairs.”

“What time?”

“Eleven thirty-five.”

“Who beat you?”

I blinked, fumbling for an answer. I could hardly say I stabbed a vampire and he tried to kill me. “I fell. On the stairs.”

“Got to be careful there. Stairs can be tricky.” He looked around the room. “Which stairs?”

“They’re in the back.”

“How did you bang up your face? Hit the banister?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Who’s Barrons?”

“What?”

“This store is called Barrons Books and Baubles. I wasn’t able to find anything in public records about an owner, dates of sale for the building, or even a business license. In fact, although this address shows on my maps, to all intents and purposes, the building doesn’t exist. So, who’s Barrons?”

“I’m the owner of this bookstore. Why?”

I jerked, stifling a gasp. Sneaky man. He was standing right behind us, the epitome of stillness, one hand on the back of the sofa, dark hair slicked back from his face, his expression arrogant and cold. No surprise there. Barrons is arrogant and cold. He’s also wealthy, strong, brilliant, and a walking enigma. Most women seem to find him drop-dead sexy, too. Thankfully I’m not most women. I don’t get off on danger. I get off on a man with strong moral fiber. The closest Barrons ever gets to fiber is walking down the cereal aisle at the grocery store.