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As she took questions, Cindy quickly realized that a quarter of the mostly female audience wanted to know about her work process, from what time of day she wrote to whether Burke reviewed the work as she went along.
“When I wasn’t physically writing, I was organizing sectionsof the book in my head. When I slept, I dreamed about the book, the stories, what Burke had done to his victims.”
The remainder of those who questioned her wanted to know more about Evan Burke. Several people asked about the contents of Burke’s trunk of souvenirs, what the scrapbooks looked like, and could she compare his first and last entries. Had he become more efficient? How had he evaded the police for so long?
Good questions, all, and Cindy deftly pointed them to find the answers in her new book, even as they began to drive Cindy back into that dark cave where horror lived in her mind.
A well-dressed woman who appeared to be in her fifties spoke up without raising her hand, saying, “I don’t think I could be tricked by a man like Burke.”
There were some hoots, uneasy laughter, more questions and Cindy fielded them.Yes, Burke has seen the book. Yes, he liked it. Yes, I feel more vulnerable now that I’ve spent so much time with him in person and with his things. I am different than I was pre-Burke. I’m more aware of the people around me. That’s a good thing.
A few men, perhaps drawn to her speech, had found standing room behind the chairs. One of them raised his hand. He looked to be in his thirties, wore glasses, and was dressed in khakis and a black leather bomber jacket.
“I come in peace,” he joked.
“Hello and what’s your question?”
“Cindy. Your presentation sounds like good old-fashioned man-hating to me. How can you say that based on this one killer, women should be wary of men they don’t know? Some of the world’s best love stories have come from opportune first meetings like that.”
Some in the audience shouted the man down, saying that he didn’t get it. A few thought that he’d made a good point. The verbal scuffle heated up quickly. There was some loud over-talking and the group camaraderie was broken.
Expressionless, the man stood his ground. He shouted out to Cindy.
“Let me be clear. You say you deplore the killings and the killer. And yet, you were paid for writing this book—”
“I’m sorry, what’s your point?”
“Point is, you’ve hyped this guy and are taking money for doing that and so is Evan Burke. You’re rewarding an unrepentant killer.”
“You’re wrong,” Cindy said. “He’s not getting paid.”
The guy who’d taken her on was not backing down.
“That makes you a man-hateranda hypocrite.”
Rich, along with his SFPD partner, Lindsay Boxer, and an armed security guard, were moving in, separating the man from the seated audience. Elaine said, “Jesus,” and cut a straight path to the door.
The heckler called out as he strode toward the exit, “Good luck with your conscience, Cindy.”
Cindy was protected by friends in law enforcement. But she was shaken and knew she’d be asking herself some questions later tonight.Was that guy dangerous? Or was he just angry and rude? Was commerce a bad thing? How else to get the Evan Burke story to those who needed to read it?
A woman in the middle of a row of chairs close to the rear of the room called out, “Is that guy one of them, Cindy? A serial killer?”
She said, “We don’t know anything about him except thathe was inappropriate. To restate my advice, if you’re dating, I suggest group outings for a while. And carry a key chain that has a hell of an alarm. By the way, I do believe in love at first sight, but love at third or sixth sight also has merit.
“Anyone else?”
Time passed without even tapping her on the shoulder, and an hour had gone by when Cindy, Rich, and the Women’s Murder Club left Book Passage. Yuki drove Lindsay and Claire. Cindy rode beside Rich in his ancient Bronco as they headed south to dinner in Sausalito.
“Did I handle that guy all right?”
“Sure did. Why? Are you worried?”
“Rich, did that guy wander into my talk by accident? Or do you think he planned to challenge me?”
“Don’t know,” said Richie. “But for sure, Cin, you handled him like a pro. You were polite. Had no apparent nervousness. He challenged you, and you challenged him back. But if you ever see him again, call the cops.”
Cindy moved closer to Rich, put her hand on his thigh.
