One Book in the Grave (25 page)

I made sure she saw me rolling my eyes before I walked away. I went into my bedroom, closed the door, and looked around. I loved this room, loved the colors I’d chosen. Pale greens in different shades from sage to
apple. Crisp whites. Clean, soft lines. Nothing frilly, just all smooth and calm. I could relax in here, clear my thoughts, consider my options. I sat on the love seat and put up my feet. I didn’t feel like relaxing. I wanted to kick something.

My life in the past week had been turned upside down. Two bodies discovered, one delivered in a box. A friend returning from the dead. Crazy survivalists. Someone taking potshots at me and my friends. I was sick of it.

“‘Got to keep a sense of humor about these things,’” I muttered sarcastically. Not fair! I had a sense of humor.

And I liked Inspector Lee—I really did. But, excuse me, I didn’t think calling me a murder magnet was all that funny. She’d said stuff like this to me before, stuff about seeing me at every murder scene and how we had to stop meeting like that. She’d made it clear that she noticed I seemed to attract dead bodies.

Maybe
she
was the reason I’d developed this complex, the one I’d discussed with Guru Bob. But Guru Bob had seen it in a positive light. I wasn’t sure I agreed with him. Could I ever consider my apparent proclivity for finding dead bodies a good thing? Did he really intend for me to take on the role of Nemesis, finding justice for the dead?

Did I even want to? Some of the dead were people I would never be friends with. Case in point? Angelica. She had treated me like a leper. Did I really care who murdered her?

I punched the pillow I was clutching. Yeah, I cared, damn it. Not because of her, certainly, but because the murderer had obviously targeted me. And Max. They’d shot a gun at us both, and at Derek and Gabriel, as well. So we were all victims of a sort. Even Emily, wherever she was.

So I wasn’t about to stop searching for reasons and clues and answers to my questions. And justice. I wanted justice. I wanted Max to have his life back. I wanted that damn box out of my living room. And along the way to finding answers, if I happened to find justice for Angelica also? Well, then, no harm, no foul.

But first I needed to swallow my annoyance and face Inspector Lee.

“‘Now you’re having bodies delivered,’” I mimicked, shaking my head. Okay, now that the initial piss-off had passed, even I could admit that it was a little funny. Still mean and rude, but funny. And too damn true.

“‘Bodies delivered,’” I grumbled.

I punched my pillow one last time. “Okay, fine. It was funny.” But you’d never catch me admitting it to her.

I was chuckling reluctantly by the time I left my bedroom. I mean, really, that damn woman’s body had been delivered straight to my house. It was like the plot of a bad horror movie. Creepy. Diabolical. Stupid. Who had that kind of mind?

“‘Delivery for you, Ms. Wainwright,’” I muttered, shaking my head. “Bodies ’R’ Us.” It really was too silly, if I looked at it objectively. A body delivered to my house.
Ridiculous!

And all of a sudden, my eyes flew open. “Delivered. To my house. Oh, God.”

I ran down the hall shouting, “Derek.”

“Right here, darling,” he called from the kitchen, where I found him drinking a beer. Inspector Jaglom sat on one of the bar stools, holding a Starbucks cup.

I averted my eyes from the scene in the corner of my living room, where the medical examiner and his assistants were hauling Angelica’s body out of the box. I hoped they were taking the box with them.

“What is it, love?”

“The deliveryman!” I said gleefully. “He’ll have information on whoever sent that thing.”

“Brilliant, darling.” Derek lifted his beer bottle in a toast to my genius. “Do you have the delivery slip, by chance? Inspector Jaglom can get started straight away with tracking him down.”

My shoulders fell. “You already thought of that, didn’t you?”

He gazed at me with fondness. “I believe you and I
might’ve thought of it at precisely the same moment. Great minds and all that, you know.”

“Right.” I shot him a skeptical look. He smiled back at me and mouthed the words,
I love you
.

And just like that, I was smiling again.

Inspector Lee caught me coming out of the kitchen. “Listen, Wainwright. I mean, Brooklyn. You know I was just teasing you earlier, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” Inspector Lee grinned. “Because believe it or not, I actually like you a lot.”

“You like me?”

“Hey, if I didn’t like you, I’d kick you to the curb.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said. “I’m feeling the love.”

“That’s as warm and fuzzy as I get, Wainwright.”

“But you mean it? You really, really like me?” I said, sniffling as I dramatically clutched my hands to my heart.

She held up both hands. “Okay, don’t get carried away.”

“Trust me, I’m not,” I said sardonically.

She laughed and we walked out of the living room into my workroom. I needed a break from the crime scene and she seemed willing to hang out with me.

“You and me,” she said, leaning one hip against my desk. “We’re sort of in the same boat.”

I jumped up and sat in one of my work chairs. “How do you figure?”

She shrugged. “Well, first and most obviously, we’re both foxy.”

“Foxy?” I laughed and she grinned. Guess she was going for a laugh, so I played along. “That’s so true. We do have that much in common.”

“Yeah,” she said, “and we both seem to find ourselves around dead bodies a lot.”

“Also true.” I observed her for a moment and realized she looked a little uncomfortable.
Interesting.
So I said, “You know, we have so much in common, we should probably try to get along. You know. Be friends, maybe.”

She shrugged. “Only seems right.”

“Okay.” I held out my hand and she reached over and shook it. Her hand was cool and calloused. Friendly.

“Friends,” she said with a satisfied nod.

I found the delivery invoice on my workroom desk and took it to Inspector Jaglom, who was still sitting in the kitchen. He stared at the slip, then dialed the number for Worldwide Shipping and Delivery Service. He read off the invoice number to the dispatcher, who had no record of the delivery.

After a few minutes of wrangling with the woman, Inspector Jaglom asked me to describe the driver. I gave him as precise a description as possible, and Derek added a few details. Jaglom repeated the information into the phone.

The dispatcher recognized the man in question and put the inspector on hold while she tracked the guy down.

It was at least ten minutes before the dispatcher came back on the line. I spent the time making more coffee for the cops and arranging another plate of a dozen cookies to put out. They were devoured within minutes.

“Yeah?” Jaglom said abruptly, then pulled out his notepad and began to write furiously. “I see.”

Inspector Lee frowned as though she could read her partner’s facial expressions.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaglom said. “We’ll have a patrol unit there immediately. Right. Thanks for your assistance.” He hung up the phone.

“They found the guy?” I asked.

“Yeah.” His mouth was tight as he digested what he’d heard. Then he looked at me. “The good news is, they tracked him down. The bad news is, he’s dead.”

I was stunned into silence for a long moment. Finally I asked, “How did he die?”

Lee’s reaction was a quick scowl; then she relaxed her features. I guess I was interfering with the investigation, but since she didn’t smack me upside the head, I took it as a small victory.

“They found him with a plastic bag over his head,” Jaglom said. “He suffocated to death.”

I cringed. There was no good way to die, but that seemed like a particularly bad one.

While Jaglom called for a patrol car to go to the delivery company, Derek and I spoke quietly and reached a decision. As soon as Jaglom was off the phone, Derek revealed that Max was alive and completely innocent. He explained about the harassment Max had endured three years earlier and the circumstances behind his staged death. The detective trusted Derek completely, but that didn’t mean he was about to pass on interrogating Max. So I led Jaglom to Max’s room, where he spent almost an hour interviewing my friend. When Max and Jaglom walked out to the kitchen, the relief on Max’s face brought tears to my eyes.

A few minutes later, I took Lee and Jaglom over to Sergio’s place, where I hung out while the cops spent another forty-five minutes interviewing my neighbors. Given everything they’d been through today, I wondered if any of them would ever speak to me again. But they all hugged me and assured me they would, so at least I had that.

On our way across the hall to my place, I asked the inspectors if they’d made any headway on Joe’s murder.

They exchanged glances; then Jaglom said, “Our lead suspect just showed up in a box.”

I winced at that, then opened my front door in time to see the medical examiner leave. He and his assistant were steering a gurney that held the body of Angelica wrapped in a thick black plastic bag.

Another assistant followed, wheeling a dolly that supported the crate that had contained her body. I couldn’t suppress a shudder as it passed by me.

Back in the kitchen, Lee looked around. “Have we talked to everyone now?”

I thought for a moment. “Everyone but Minka.”

Lee gasped and her face turned into a mask of terror. “LaBoeuf? She was here?”

I bit back a laugh. “It’s a long story, but yes. You might say she crashed the party.”

Jaglom saw Lee’s expression and laughed. “I’ve interviewed her twice before during our last two investigations. It’s your turn, Janice.”

“No freaking way,” Lee muttered darkly as they both packed up their notepads. I walked them out of my place and down to the freight elevator.

Jaglom was still laughing. “She’s a nice girl once you get to know her.”

Lee snorted. “She’s a rabid dog.”

Jaglom laughed and turned to me. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks,” I said. I thought I heard Inspector Lee growling as I walked back to my place.

Minutes after I got inside and locked the door, my telephone rang with two quick rings, then nothing. It was the doorbell. Again.

“I’m afraid to answer it,” I said, flashing Derek an apprehensive look. But I picked up the phone anyway and said hello.

“Hey, babe.”

Gabriel.
My stomach relaxed and I buzzed him in. He bypassed the slow freight elevator and took the stairs and arrived at my door in a minute flat.

I couldn’t bear to sit in the living room where Angelica’s body had lain for the past three hours (memo to self: grab some of Mom’s cleansing white sage to purify and chase away the dead-body vibes in my living room), so we moved into my workroom and sat at the high table. I’d taught private classes in my home, so there were four comfortable high chairs. If someone else showed up, they would have to stand. I doubted that would be a problem.

I served hors d’oeuvres: more cookies, plus the last of some Brie I had in the fridge and half a bag of potato chips. Wine for me, beer for the guys. Nobody complained.

We amused Gabriel with the horrific story of the body in the box, plus the murdered delivery guy.

“Sorry I missed the fun,” Gabriel said with black humor.

I gave him a dark look, but conceded, “This means that Solomon is a sure bet for Joe Taylor’s murderer.”

“Not necessarily,” Derek said.

Max leaned his elbows on the table, looking puzzled. “Who else could’ve done it?”

“Angelica,” Derek said cryptically as he swirled his wine.

“Meow.” I glanced down and saw Clyde staring up at me. He’d spent the day hiding in Max’s room and I couldn’t blame him.

“Do you want to come up?” I asked.

“Meow.”

I figured that meant yes, so I pushed my chair back from the table a few inches. He crouched, then jumped up onto my lap in one amazingly smooth move. He took his time getting comfy, staring up at me, rubbing his face against my chest. Then he circled around and wiggled a little until he found just the right spot, and plopped himself down.

“I love this cat.”

“And he loves you,” Max said easily.

I gazed down at my fuzzy friend and stroked his pretty orange fur. “You don’t understand. Cats don’t like me.”

“Where’d you get that idea?” he said, and leaned over to scratch Clyde’s neck.

From every other cat I’ve ever known,
I thought grimly, but didn’t say. Instead, I glanced across at Derek. “You still think Angelica could’ve killed Joe?”

“Yes.”

“But why? And what do you think happened afterward? Did she and Solomon have a falling-out and he killed her?”

“Yes,” Max said.

Derek nodded. “It’s the most likely scenario.”

“A lover’s spat,” Gabriel mused.

Max’s face soured in disgust. “Those two would stop at nothing to destroy everyone else. Why not destroy each other?”

“Poetic justice?” I said.

“Works for me,” Gabriel said, grabbing a handful of chips.

“But it could just as likely be Solomon who killed Joe,” Derek conceded.

“We need to talk to him,” I said.

“There’s no
we
here,” Derek said testily. “You’re going to stay as far away from him as possible.”

I rolled my eyes, looked around the table, and palmed another cookie. “So what do we do right now?”

“I’m going to get another beer,” Max answered. “Anyone else?” There were no takers, so Max strolled out to the kitchen.

Someone knocked on my front door and I flinched, disturbing the cat enough that he turned and grunted at me and his claws came out. If I nudged him off, would he ever speak to me again? Could I live with that?

“I’ll get the door, darling,” Derek said, already halfway there. “Don’t disturb your new friend.”

“Clyde thanks you,” I said, smiling gratefully. “It’s probably one of the neighbors wanting to commiserate.”

Derek glanced through the peephole and gave me a look. “It’s a woman I don’t recognize.”

“As long as it’s not Minka, go ahead and open it.”