One Book in the Grave (21 page)

What in the world is Angelica up to?

“Didn’t you suspect she knew Max was alive?”

“Yes, and now I’m sure of it.” I shook the piece of paper. “This could be why she set the whole thing in motion, starting with selling the book to Joe.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” I said. “She expects Max Adams to be her special guest.”

Mom and I stepped inside the dark lecture hall and found ourselves on the top tier of an arena-style auditorium. In the front of the class, standing at a podium next to a large slide screen that showed a photograph of the Greek Acropolis, was Solomon.

With a slide-change clicker in one hand and a laser pointer in the other, Solomon was delivering a stirring account of his last visit to the famous ancient ruin.

He glanced up at the top row and I shivered involuntarily.
The lights were dimmed and he was busy lecturing, but I felt as though he could see right through me from twenty rows away. He seemed taller, older, better-looking, and more solidly built than I remembered him.

“Do we have latecomers?” he asked acerbically, his deep, smooth voice resonating through the room.

“Sorry, wrong classroom,” I said loudly, and pushed Mom toward the door.

Once in the hall, I had to take a few deep breaths to calm my stuttering heart. I hadn’t seen Solomon in almost ten years, but all it took was a few short seconds in the same room to leave me certain that the man could be a cold-blooded killer.

“I had no idea he was so forceful,” Mom said, breathless herself.

“I’d forgotten,” I muttered, wondering if I’d simply been too young and naive to recognize Solomon’s potent sexual energy, or if his unpredictable, domineering ways back then had blinded me to his magnetism.

“No wonder Crystal is so in love with him.”

“I know. He’s got some lethal pheromones at work.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed in disgust. “Which helps mask the fact that he’s a psychopath.”

I looked at her in amazement. “Well put, Mom.”

“I have my moments.”

Laughing, I grabbed her arm and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

We made one quick stop at the gallery store. I wanted to find a poster of the retrospective to show Max. Wouldn’t he be surprised?

The store had all different retrospective items available, from postcards to wall posters. I chose a medium-sized poster on good-quality card stock. Mom wanted one and so did I, so I ended up buying three.

“Oh, Max Adams,” the salesgirl said with excitement. “I love his work. Don’t you?”

“I do,” I said as I handed her my money.

“If you’re a student, you can get discount tickets to the retrospective.”

I frowned. “I’m not a student.”

“Me, neither,” Mom said.

“Oh,” the girl said, looking disappointed. But she perked up again. “Well, you should buy them, anyway, because it’s going to sell out. The buzz has been incredible.”

“Really? What are you hearing about it?”

“It’s all his most important work, plus a lot of photographs of him during his lectures and appearances. He was so hot, you know? And rumor has it that somebody really important will make an appearance. I hear he worked with celebrities a lot.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Oh yeah. Everyone on campus is crazy about Max Adams. It was an absolute tragedy that he died so young, so we’re all determined to keep his spirit alive.”

“That’s so beautiful,” I said.

“Yeah. Max rocks.” She turned to the cash register. “You can buy the retrospective tickets here if you want.”

I looked at Mom, who nodded, so I asked how much they were, and the price was reasonable enough. Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. “Okay, I’ll take six tickets.”

“Who’s invited to the opening-night party?” Mom asked.

“It’s free and open to the public, so it’s going to be insanely crowded and stupid,” she said. “I’m totally going!”

As we were leaving the sales counter, two young guys in green shirts and matching baseball caps walked into the store, pushing a cart loaded with boxes. I grabbed hold of Mom to stop her, just as the skinnier guy called out to the salesgirl, “Where do you want these, Shelley?”

“Stack ’em over here behind the counter, Bennie,” the salesgirl answered.

“Hey, Bennie,” I said, stepping closer. “Do you remember me? I’m London Wainwright’s sister Brooklyn.”

He looked me up and down, and his mouth curved in
a lopsided grin. “Sure, I remember you, Brooklyn. How you doin’?”

“Benjamin Styles?” Mom said. “Is that you? Hello.”

Bennie Styles was at least six feet tall and as gangly as a chicken. He still had adolescent pimples on his face and neck. It was hard to believe that this was the weapons expert who’d taught Solomon everything he knew about ammunition, guns, and survival.

Bennie blinked at Mom; then his eyes widened. “Mrs., uh, Wainwright. How you doin’?”

“I’m dandy, thanks,” Mom said.

Bennie’s coworker elbowed him and Bennie jolted. “Oh, uh, this is my friend Stefan. This is Brooklyn and her mom.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Stefan said, flashing us a grin. Melody was right. He was really cute. He winked and gave us both a thumbs-up before grabbing the cart and rolling it over to the counter to stack boxes.

“So, what’re you guys doing here?” Bennie asked.

“We were just purchasing tickets to the Max Adams Retrospective,” Mom said. “Are you going?”

Bennie slapped his forehead in disgust. “If I hear that guy’s name one more time, I’m gonna punch somebody.”

Mom took a half step back. “Why is that?”

“Everybody’s gone crazy over him, that’s why. Especially the girls around here. Hello, the guy made paper. You know how he did it? With
paper
!” He waved his hands crazily. “Hello, I already got paper! There’s paper everywhere. Who needs more paper? Well, toilet paper, maybe. But what’s the big effing deal about this guy? Pardon my French.”

“I appreciate your opinion, Bennie,” Mom said carefully.

He pointed his finger to make a point. “Oh, it’s not just mine. One of the professors here is totally pissed off about all the publicity this Max Adams dude is getting. I swear, if the guy wasn’t already dead, Professor Solomon would’ve…Well, anyway.” He scratched his neck, unsure where to go from here.

“Professor Solomon?” Mom said, her tone guileless. “I’m not sure I know who that is.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bennie’s lips twisted up in a grimace. “Sorry I was rude. I got a big mouth sometimes. I better get back to work.”

“Wait, Bennie,” Mom said, stopping him. “Crystal Byers said you might be willing to teach me how to reload my ammunition. Can you still do that for me?”

“Oh. Sure. Yeah. I mean, yes, ma’am. Crystal was say-
in’ you needed some help with that, and I’m your man.” Belatedly he remembered his manners and whipped off his baseball cap. His hair was stick straight and flopped into his eyes. He brushed it back impatiently.

“Yes, she said you were the best man for the job.”

He puffed up his scrawny chest and grinned. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Good. Now, I should tell you, I’m only interested in reloading shotgun shells for dove hunting, so I went out and picked up the Lee Load-All Reloader with the primer feed attachment.”

He nodded in approval. “That’s a good little starter kit.”

“That’s what I was told.” She pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote something down, then handed it to Bennie.

“This is my phone number. I can start anytime next week, and I’ll be glad to pay you for your time.”

He stared at the paper for a few seconds, then looked at Mom. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll call you.”

“You do that, Benjamin,” she said, patting his arm. “You’re a good boy.”

Back at Mom’s, we had our customary glass of wine while we waited for Dad to come home. I hadn’t heard from Derek yet. I was hoping he would make it to Dharma tonight, not only because I missed him, but also because it would mean that things had calmed down at his office. But most of all, we needed to get back to Jackson’s house to see Max and find out what Gabriel had
learned about Angelica. And I had some interesting news of my own, thanks to our field trip to the Art Institute earlier.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, watching Mom whip up a marinade for the steaks Dad would grill later for the two of them. As I sipped my wine, I remembered something I’d meant to ask her. “Mom, did you really buy an ammo reloader?”

“Of course not. You know I hate guns.”

“But how did you know what to say to Bennie?”

She winked at me and said, “Now,
that’s
how you tell a lie.”

I just had to laugh.

A car door slammed outside and I went running out the front door to see if it was Derek. Sure enough, there was the Bentley. I didn’t want to appear too anxious, so I waited patiently for him at the front door. After a few seconds, I blew off that idea and raced down the front walk. He opened his arms just in time to grab hold of me, and we stood like that for a minute or two.

Gazing down at me, he asked, “What’s all this about?”

“I was worried,” I confessed. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but I managed to accomplish a few things and escape with my skin intact.”

I smiled. “I’m so glad. So, any news on the survivalists?”

He stroked my hair, calming me as if I were a jumpy young pony. “Let’s wait to meet with Gabriel and Max and I’ll tell you all everything.”

But forty minutes later, when we arrived at Max’s door, we found a large wooden mallet leaning against the threshold. It was the type of mallet used by papermakers to pound pulp.

“Max wouldn’t leave his tools around like this,” I said, staring at it.

“No, I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Derek pushed me behind him, but I pushed right back out again. It was just a mallet. Still, it was eerie to see it there.

“So if he didn’t leave it here…” I didn’t have to say
what I was thinking. Derek was having the same thought. This was a message. Sent by the same person who had left Max’s paper knife stuck in my tire.

I reached for the mallet.

“Don’t touch it.”

“It’s…it’s for making paper,” I murmured. “You use it to beat pulp.” Crushing fear spiraled right down into my bones. I felt my muscles give way and I had to lean into Derek. “This is impossible.”

“Easy, darling,” Derek said, grabbing me around the waist to keep me from slithering to the ground. “Maybe Max left it out here.”

But neither of us believed that.

“Let’s get you inside,” Derek said softly.

Was he kidding? Go inside the house, where something might be terribly wrong? “No.”

But he wouldn’t listen to me. Prying the house key from my useless fingers, he knocked twice on the door, then pushed it open.

“Be careful,” I warned him, my voice shaking with dread as I saw him reach for his gun and take a step inside.

Yes, he was brave and strong and really hot. But no matter how good he was at his job, I worried for Derek when he walked right into possible danger.

“Watch out, please,” I prayed, unsure if he heard.

But when we got inside, Max was waiting in the living room, holding his rifle pointed at the door.

Gabriel stood nearby, drinking a beer. “You can put the rifle down now, Quick Draw.”

Max lowered the gun. I sucked in a long breath and let it go. So all was right and safe inside my brother’s house for the moment.

But Max insisted he hadn’t left the mallet outside. He hadn’t even seen that particular tool in years.

His enemies had discovered his hiding place. He was no longer safe in Dharma.

Late that night, Derek and I spirited Max back to San Francisco. I’d offered my loft as the most secure place to stay, at least for a short period of time. Since my home had been broken into a while back, the building security had been upgraded. The parking garage had a shiny new security gate now, and the front door required a more intricate digital code to enter. I had lots of living space and an extra bedroom and bathroom Max could use. Not to mention the fact that Derek, supersecurity guy, was living with me.

Gabriel decided to remain in Dharma and keep track of Angelica’s and Solomon’s movements during the day. The nights were a different plan altogether. I confess it made my stomach a little queasy to know that Gabriel intended to stay at Jackson’s house during the nights, in hopes of luring the bad guys into a trap.

Of course, after seeing that papermaker’s mallet on the doormat, I wasn’t sure if my stomach would ever be right again.

“I want you to call one of us every four hours,” I demanded before I would give Gabriel the key to Jackson’s place. “I swear I’ll get in the car and drive up here if I don’t hear from you. Then you’ll really be sorry, mister.”

I was channeling my mother again.

“Babe, I’ll be fine,” Gabriel said. “But thanks for worrying
about me. It’s sweet.” Then he kissed me solidly on the lips and grinned as I blinked in dazed surprise.

“Must be time to go,” Derek said wryly.

“Definitely,” I mumbled when I was able to speak again.

I was happy to be home.

Derek and I showed Max around the house; then I got him set up in the guest bedroom. Once we were all situated, we met at the dining room table, where Derek called Gabriel and put him on speakerphone so we could discuss what we’d all found out over the last two days.

I recounted everything Mrs. Plumley told me about Emily being on a leave of absence. I told them what her parents’ neighbor had said. It wasn’t much information, but it gave Max some hope that Emily and her family were probably out of town and hadn’t met with foul play, as we’d feared.

I also braved Derek’s ire and confessed to everything I’d seen at the Art Institute. I showed Max the retrospective poster and watched the mix of emotions that crossed his face. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, ultimately. From one angle, it was a huge honor, but, unfortunately, with Angelica putting the whole show together, it was just plain inexplicable.

When I mentioned that Mom and I had gone to Solomon’s classroom, Derek’s eyes turned dark with fury.

“We were in the back,” I said. “He couldn’t see me. And we only stayed a few seconds.” But I knew that was a lie, and gazing at Derek’s face, I could tell he didn’t quite believe me, either.