One Book In The Grave Page 5

  I was kind of shocked. I’d never seen him do that before. “Okay.”

  He stood, agitated and distracted now. Very un-Guru Bob-like. “I must go inside and call Gabriel.”

  Gabriel? Why did he have to call Gabriel? Did somebody need saving? Or shooting? I’d first met the dashing, mysterious Gabriel when he saved my life in a noodle restaurant on Fillmore Street. I still wasn’t sure whether he was a hero or a thief or both, but he was a good friend.

  Guru Bob continued. “I will need to speak with Derek, as well. Please do not go anywhere, gracious. It is important that we discuss this matter further.”

  “Um, sure.”

  He dashed off. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him move so fast.

  “You are all sworn to secrecy,” Guru Bob said sternly forty-five minutes later, when we’d regrouped in Mom’s living room. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes, of course,” Derek said, sitting comfortably on the sofa beside me.

  “You’re upset, Robson,” Mom said. “What happened?”

  He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. After a moment, serenity returned to his features. “I apologize for my brusqueness. Brooklyn gave me some distressing news a few minutes ago and I am afraid I reacted badly.”

  “I’m so sorry!” I said, clamping my hands over my mouth. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “No, gracious. It is not your fault. You will understand my reaction in a moment.”

  The front door slammed and Dad came rushing into the room. “I got here as soon as I could. What’s going on?”

  Guru Bob held up his hand, and Dad calmed immediately. Mom poured another cup of tea and handed it to Dad. He sat in one of the upholstered corner chairs, still catching his breath.

  This was getting odder by the minute. Derek took hold of my hand in apparent agreement.

  “Rebecca, James,” Guru Bob said, speaking to my parents. “You remember Max Adams and the circumstances surrounding his death.”

  “Oh yes. Poor Max,” Mom whispered. “I wish you’d known him.” Her eyes softened as she gazed across at Derek, then over at Gabriel, who stood leaning against the mantel over the fireplace, looking fit and handsome in a black leather jacket and well-worn jeans. He’d been injured badly a month ago and had been recuperating in Dharma while he weighed his options and planned his next move.

  Frankly, I’d been worried about Gabriel for a while now. What would he do next? Where would he go from here? I didn’t have time to think about that right now, but I would ask him later.

  “Max grew up in Dharma,” Mom explained. “He was great friends with Austin and the other kids, and after high school he went on to become a talented artist and papermaker. Eventually he met a lovely woman and they got engaged. A month after their engagement party, he was killed in a car accident.”

  “I’m sorry,” Derek said to Mom. “It must’ve been difficult for you all.”

  “It was,” Mom said, sitting on the arm of Dad’s chair.

  “Yes, it was, indeed,” Guru Bob said, “but now Brooklyn has introduced a new wrinkle to the saga.” He was standing now, and began strolling slowly around the room as he related an abbreviated version of the story I’d told him a few minutes earlier.

  “Oh, Brooklyn, sweetie,” Mom said. “I’m so sorry about Mr. Taylor. I wish we could’ve been there for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Dad shook his head. “Honey, you should’ve called us.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Derek was close by, so he came over.” Staring at our joined hands, I murmured to no one in particular, “There was a lot of blood.”

  Derek squeezed my hand.

  Gabriel had been watching us, but now he folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin toward Guru Bob. “What’s this all about, Robson? Has someone else died?”

  “No.” Guru Bob looked around the room, meeting each person’s gaze in order. “But I have kept something from you for far too long. The time has come to reveal the truth.”

  This really was beginning to feel like an Agatha Christie novel. But Robson’s eyes were grave as he turned them on me, and I gripped Derek’s hand a little tighter.

  “Max Adams is very much alive.”

  Chapter 7

  “What?” I might have shrieked the word, but nobody would have blamed me right at that moment. “That’s impossible! Max has been dead for three years.”

  “No, gracious, he has not,” Guru Bob demurred.

  “You’re wrong.” I jumped up from the couch and looked around the room in desperation.

  “Robson’s never wrong, sweetie,” Mom said, but she was just as shocked as I was.

  I stared at her for a moment. “Okay, maybe not. But this can’t be true.”

  “I don’t understand,” Mom said. “Are you sure, Robson?”

  “You said he’s never wrong,” I protested.

  She blinked. “I know, but we all went to his funeral. There must be a mistake. Robson?”

  “There is no mistake, Rebecca,” Guru Bob said, kindly ignoring my outburst. “I saw Max with my own eyes the day after his death was declared. I arranged for his safe departure. Believe me, he is very much alive and living in a safe place under an assumed name.”

  Now I knew what people meant when they said it felt like the floor had opened up beneath them. Max? Alive? Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he let all of us think he was dead? I sobbed through his funeral! I’d missed him for so long after that. I still missed him.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  Guru Bob glanced around the room. He seemed unsure of himself. And that was just one more oddity in a day filled with them. Guru Bob had never been unsure of anything as long as I’d known him.

  I happened to catch Dad giving a minuscule nod to Guru Bob.

  “Wait!” I said, wondering whether my eyes could possibly bulge out of my head more than they already had. “Dad? You knew about this?”

  “Jimmy?” Mom whispered, betrayal clear in her hushed tone.

  “But…why?” I stammered. “How?”

  “Yes, why, Robson?” Mom demanded, turning her back on my father, who winced as if in preparation for what would no doubt be an unpleasant evening later. “It’s not as if Max were some sort of master spy or something.”

  “Becky-” Dad started.

  Mom whipped around. “Don’t you ‘Becky’ me, mister. How could you keep something like this from me? I loved that boy. His family was devastated. How could you-”

  “His life was being threatened,” Guru Bob said flatly. “When the people after him began to direct their threats toward his family and his fiancée, Emily, Max made the decision to stage his own death to protect them all.”

  “But that…that’s crazy,” I muttered lamely. “Where were the police?”

  “It was an unusual situation,” Dad said. “The police weren’t helpful.”

  “So you stepped in and helped him get away,” Derek surmised, his gaze directed at Guru Bob. “With Jim’s help?”

  “To one of your safe houses?” Gabriel said.

  My mouth gaped open. “Wait a minute.” Safe houses? I felt as if I’d wandered into an alternate reality, where Guru Bob was a spymaster and my own father was capable of keeping state secrets. “Safe houses?”

  “What?” Mom screeched the word, and Dad covered his ears. “You have safe houses? Plural? As in, more than one safe house? Why? And, Jimmy, you knew? What else aren’t you telling me?”

  Guru Bob flashed Gabriel a fulminating look, but Gabriel seemed unfazed that he’d just busted the secret wide-open. Then again, he didn’t have my mother throwing daggers at him or me yelling at him. Not yet, anyway.

  Robson turned to my father. “James, you mentioned a new Phelps Viognier you wanted to try.”

  “Damn straight!” Dad said joyfully, and bounced up from his chair in sheer relief. “Must be time for a little wine tasting.”

  “Jimmy.” Mom’s voice held a tone of warning, but Dad ignored her and ru
shed off to the kitchen.

  He was back a few seconds later with a chilled bottle and a corkscrew. “You’re going to love this baby. It’s got a creamy mouthfeel with hints of apricot and mint that’ll go down like silk and ease your troubled mind.”

  I raised my hand weakly. “Yes, please.”

  Derek laughed. “I’ll try a sip or two, Jim.”

  “James Francis Wainwright, I asked you a question,” Mom said, her normally smooth forehead lined in distress.

  I cringed at that. Mom used our full names only when she was about to ground us for eternity. I’m not sure how that translated for one’s spouse, but I knew Dad was in deep trouble.

  “What’s that, sweetie?” Dad said as the cork popped out of the bottle. He glanced around, feigning confusion, then said, “Oh, hey. We’ll need some glasses.”

  “I’ll get them,” I said quickly, earning a suspicious look from Mom, who threw her hands up in disgust.

  “Thanks, Brooksie,” Dad said, cheerily ignoring Mom’s wrathful vibe.

  I raced into the dining room and pulled six wineglasses out of the cabinet. I would’ve used any excuse to get out from between Mom’s eyes shooting flames at Dad.

  As I walked back into the living room, I caught Mom waggling her finger at Dad. She was strutting now and her head was moving back and forth on her neck like a bobblehead doll. “Jimmy, you got some ’splainin’ to do.”

  Derek laughed, and Gabriel, who hadn’t said much up until now, grinned with delight. “God, I love you people.”

  It took the whole bottle of Viognier to ease our troubled minds enough to calm down and listen to Guru Bob’s explanation. In the past three years, he had purchased five safe houses, all under different names in remote areas of northern California. Max’s had been the first.

  “For two months after he ‘died,’” he explained, “Max camped on the Columbia River up in Oregon. Once the Marin house was purchased, he moved there.”

  Mom had calmed down considerably, but she still scowled at her longtime spiritual teacher and friend. “So you just go out and buy houses and new identities for people?”

  Dad and Guru Bob exchanged glances. Finally, Guru Bob said, “I provide…sanctuary.”

  “Oh.” Mom thought about that for a few seconds; then her shoulders relaxed. “All right. That makes sense. Thank you, Robson.”

  He nodded solemnly, as if that settled everything.

  “Wait. It makes sense? Really?” I was almost more confused than before. And not that I would mention it in front of Mom, but did Dad have something to do with those safe houses? I’d seen that look he gave Guru Bob.

  “Yes, sweetie,” Mom said. “Sanctuary is a good thing.” She looked around at the faces in the room and smiled. “Now, who’s ready for lunch?”

  Huh?

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m always up for lunch. But where did my mom go? Her expression had transmogrified into the Sunny-Bunny smiley face she made whenever she didn’t want to discuss an uncomfortable topic.

  Maybe she was lying low, figuring she could get more answers by grilling Dad later. Or maybe the idea of Guru Bob providing sanctuary for those in need was honestly something she could get behind. Sanctuary was, after all, considered a noble cause by some. But I had a feeling there was more to the story than that.

  And there was still the little matter of Max being not dead. And the fact that Guru Bob and my dad had been lying about it for three freaking years.

  However, everyone but me seemed relieved to drop the subject for now. And with the lure of food, I was cajoled into relaxing for a while, too. We all stood and helped bring the various casserole dishes and platters of food outside to the sunny terrace. As usual, Mom had prepared enough food for a small army, and we ate at the patio table under their big, colorful umbrella.

  “Who wants dessert?” she asked when everyone had eaten their fill. “It’s apple crisp.”

  Derek held his stomach. “I’m stuffed to the gills, but I can’t resist.”

  “Me, too,” Dad said, and sat back in his chair, clearly suffused with a sense of contentment.

  Gabriel helped Mom bring out the dessert, and, sure enough, she’d made her amazing apple crisp with caramel sauce. She served it with ice cream on the side. After we were finished, we all looked ready to nod off.

  Once the dishes were cleared, we went into the kitchen and Robson announced he was leaving. Mom gave him a hug and he patted her back. “If it makes you feel better, Rebecca, I plan to sell the homes soon.”

  “Sell them? Why?”

  Dad snorted. “They won’t be safe houses now that everyone knows about them.”

  That was when Mom flashed her scary, wild-eyed rodent glare at him. No one in the family-heck, no one in the county-crossed her when she glared at you like that.

  Guru Bob glanced at Derek, then over at Gabriel. “I would like someone to drive out to see Max and warn him of these latest developments.”

  “I’ll go,” Derek said immediately.

  “I’m on it,” Gabriel said at the exact same time.

  Robson smiled. “Thank you both. That is what I hoped you would say.”

  “Can’t you just give him a call?” Mom said, proving to me that she was still on top of her game.

  “He will not answer the telephone,” Robson explained. “It is a precaution we set up in the beginning.”

  Now, that was just plain bizarre. Guru Bob sensed my distress and touched my arm. “All will be explained soon, gracious.”

  “I hope so,” I said, and looked at Derek. “I’m going, too.”

  “No,” Gabriel and Derek said at the same time, then looked at each other. Gabriel grinned, but Derek was smart enough to refrain.

  “You two don’t even know Max,” I said reasonably. “I do. He’ll talk to me. So I’m going with you.”

  Derek glowered at me.

  “She’s got a point.” Gabriel sat at the kitchen table and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Now, I hate to bring this up, because I realize this guy is Dharma’s favorite son. But I hope you’re all prepared to deal with the possibility that he might’ve killed that bookseller.”

  “Oh no, dear,” Mom said straight away.

  I shook my head. “He didn’t. It’s not an issue.”

  Gabriel cast a sideways glance at me. “His tools were found at the crime scene.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay.” He held up both hands. “Just saying.”

  “I understand what you’re getting at,” I said, nodding. “But you don’t know Max. He would never hurt anyone.”

  “You haven’t seen him in years.”

  “It’s barely been three years, and people don’t change that much.”

  “People change when they have to,” Gabriel said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Would the Max you knew a few years back have lied to you? Would he have let you think he’d been dead all this time? Would he let you all mourn him?”

  Well, he had me there. I chewed at my bottom lip, caught my mom’s eye, and realized we were both thinking along the same lines. It was so out of character for the Max we knew. But murder? There was no way Max was responsible.

  “This whole thing’s got to be some kind of setup or something.”

  “How do you figure?” Gabriel asked as he tapped his fingers on the table.

  “Well.” I took a last sip of wine to give myself time to think. “Someone wanted to divert suspicion away from themselves. Or wanted to specifically blame Max for Joe’s murder. I just can’t figure out why yet.”

  “It’s possible.” Gabriel shrugged. “That means that whoever killed the bookseller must know Max Adams pretty well.”

  “That’s right,” I said, and wondered why I hadn’t thought of that already. I suppose a vague feeling had been circling around my consciousness, but it hadn’t caught hold. The fact was, I hadn’t been thinking very clearly since I found Joe’s body. “So maybe the killer wants to draw Max out into the open.”

>   Derek leaned against the butcher-block table by the stove, his eyes narrowed in thought. “If the act of killing Joseph Taylor was meant to draw out Max, then the killer must know he’s alive.”

  I shivered and pulled my sweater tight around me. That hadn’t occurred to me, either. But now that it had, I was scared to death for Max. “Which means the killer could already know where Max lives.”

  Gabriel said, “He may be in big trouble out there.”

  Derek had seen my reaction and pointed his finger at me. “And that’s why you ought to stay right here with your parents while we go collect him.”

  “Nice try, but you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  “I don’t want to get rid of you, darling,” he said softly. “I want to protect you.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” Mom said.

  “Yes, it is.” I smiled at him. “Thank you, Derek. But the fact is, you need me there with you.” I pushed myself away from the sink. “So let’s go.”

  “Whoa, hold on. Nobody’s going anywhere today,” Mom said. “Tonight is Savannah’s grand opening and I expect you all to be there.”

  “But Max might need us,” I insisted.

  “He’s been on his own all this time. He can wait one more day.” She flashed a piercing look at Guru Bob. “And if I know Robson, he’s probably got some sort of fail-safe number Max can call if he’s in deep trouble. Probably goes to some untraceable cell phone somewhere. Am I right?”

  Guru Bob said nothing but held up his hands in surrender, as if to admit he couldn’t pull anything over on my mother. But he had, hadn’t he? For years now.

  “Mom, how do you expect us to enjoy ourselves tonight, knowing Max is stuck out there all alone?”

  She patted my cheek. “Because, my darling girl, tonight is all about good food.”

  “But I’m already so stuffed from lunch.”

  “You’ll be hungry by seven o’clock tonight.”

  She had a point. I didn’t like skipping meals. It wasn’t healthy, right? Yeah. So, okay, I would force myself to enjoy an evening with family and friends, eat a fabulous meal, get a good night’s sleep, and rescue Max Adams in the morning. Once I was sure he was alive and in a safe place, I was so going to bop him over the head with something big and heavy.