One Book in the Grave (27 page)

“To do what he did to that woman,” Emily said, shaking her head in disbelief as she considered everything
we’d told her. “Not just killing her, but dressing her up and shipping her to you, Brooklyn? I would say he’s completely lost his mind.”

“And that scares me to death,” Max said, glancing at the other two men. “We’ve got to go after this guy.”

Emily gripped Max’s hand tightly. “Maybe I’m lucky I didn’t know all this before. I’m not sure how I would’ve dealt with the threats.”

“I’m glad you understand why I did what I did,” Max said, and laid his head on Emily’s shoulder.

“Oh, I still haven’t forgiven you,” she said quickly. “But I might be willing to accept that I really was in danger all those years ago.”

Later, over pizza and salad, we all came to the conclusion that since the body was delivered to my apartment, Solomon had obviously discovered that Max was staying here.

“I suggest we leave immediately after we finish dining,” Derek said.

“But where will we go this time?” I asked.

He pushed his plate away and took hold of his wineglass. “Since it seems Solomon will find us wherever we go, we might as well return to Dharma, where we can keep an eye on the enemy.”

“Yes, good idea,” Max said decisively.

“But we can’t go back to Jackson’s house,” I said.

“I know a place.”

We all turned and stared at Gabriel.

“Nobody will find you there,” he said, and held up his hand in a pledge. “Guaranteed.”

“Is it big enough for three or four of us?” I asked.

“Plenty big and fully stocked.”

I had more questions, but he flashed me that raised-eyebrow look of his, so I let it go. For now, anyway.

“I’m coming with you,” Emily insisted. “I still have my suitcase in the car.”

“I won’t go without you,” Max said, taking her hand in his. “Never again.”

It took us a while to pack up our things. This time I knew how the days would go, so I brought some books to read and some pretty blue yarn from China’s shop that I’d promised myself I would knit into a scarf. I included my travel set of bookbinding tools and supplies as well as
Beauty
. I would need some distractions to get me through the long days without Derek. Since he and Gabriel would be out there shadowing Solomon, I knew I would need plenty of work to fill up my time.

We planned our next moves carefully. If anyone had been watching my apartment building, all they would have seen was me in my nondescript Prius, leaving my garage somewhere around ten o’clock that night, ostensibly for a pizza-and–ice cream run.

Two hours earlier, they also might have seen Derek and Gabriel driving off in their own much-flashier cars, looking for all the world as though they were going off to their respective offices or homes.

In reality, Gabriel headed for Dharma to set things up at the house we’d be staying in. Derek, on the other hand, took a scenic drive around the city, in and out of different neighborhoods and up and down the steepest hills he could find. When he was certain he hadn’t been followed, he doubled back toward my place, parked a few blocks away, and stealthily made his way into my building.

Emily’s car remained in my security garage. Derek snuck back out to get his car while the rest of us exited my building out the back. A minute later, Derek pulled up for us and drove us to Dharma.

It might’ve seemed like a lot of trouble to go through just to get out of town. But after being tracked down and discovered three times now, I was willing to make the effort.

On the way to Dharma, I called Inspector Lee to let her know I would be staying at my parents’ house for a few days. Lee had been to Dharma once before, after Abraham Karastovsky was killed, so she’d be able to find me if necessary.

The house Gabriel had arranged for us was hidden in a small canyon on the outskirts of town. It was situated at the dead end of a winding, narrow road, and I noticed that we passed very few houses on the way there.

This house wasn’t as deluxe or as high up on the mountain as my brother’s, but it was plenty big enough, clean, and well provided with food, supplies, and shelves of books. There was a wide-screen, high-definition television with every cable station known to man. The beds were freshly made, and clean towels hung in the bathrooms.

Gabriel showed us around; then Max and Emily wandered off to unpack their things. They had chosen—that is, Emily had insisted on—separate bedrooms, so that left the master bedroom for me and Derek, although Derek didn’t intend to stay here much. The living room couch was a sofa bed, so Gabriel would sleep there tonight, if he slept at all.

We walked outside. Cloud cover hid the moon and stars, so the night was as dark as pitch. Gabriel carefully pointed out where the property ended abruptly at the canyon’s sheer edge. At the bottom of the canyon was a stream and a dirt road, but there were no houses down there. He assured us we would be safe here for a few days.

I turned and studied him closely. “Tell the truth. Is this one of Guru Bob’s safe houses?”

After a pause, he said, “I plead the fifth.”

“Chicken.”

Gabriel’s lopsided grin was positively devilish, but he remained mum.

“Fine,” I said, a little huffy. “Don’t know why I bothered to ask you. I’ll pin down Guru Bob next time I see him.”

“Better him than me,” he said, still grinning.

Once more, Max and I settled into a daily routine, this time with the addition of Emily.

I had asked myself more than once, Why do I keep insisting on staying with Max? Who had appointed me guardian over the man? The answer was easy, after I’d thought about it awhile. I was the one who had found Joe’s body. I had found Max’s knife in my tire. It was my book,
Beauty and the Beast
, that had set everything in motion from the day Ian first called me in to restore the book.

No, it went back further. Three years ago,
Beauty
had played a role. Angelica—or Solomon, or someone, but I still believed it was Angelica—had decided that the book symbolized some elusive prize that, though currently unattainable, might someday be hers. So perhaps she had stolen the book from Emily in hopes of one day using it to attain that prize. Namely, Max.

It was a bizarre theory but it was the only one that worked for me. Deep down inside, I couldn’t fathom why Joe’s killers and Max’s tormentors had carried out such unspeakable acts, but their motivations didn’t matter. All I knew was that I had to take some personal responsibility for seeing that the bad guys were brought to justice. If that made me Nemesis, as Guru Bob had insisted was my role, then so be it.

So here we were in our safe, comfortable house. The three of us made polite conversation when we had to, and otherwise we avoided one another except when necessary. It was easier when Derek showed up at night or Gabriel stopped by. Then it felt like we had company
and could socialize pleasantly with each other. But during the day, Emily, Max, and I moved cautiously around one another, trying not to tip the balance of the fragile bubble we’d created to protect Max and Emily.

Max and Emily spent the first two days treating each other with kid gloves, their manners painfully impeccable. Max wouldn’t leave the room without asking Emily if he could get her something or if she needed anything or if she was comfortable. She did the same to him.

The second evening, Max turned on the television, and their interaction became a major exercise in diplomacy.

“Do you like this show?”

“Oh, I don’t care.”

“No, we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

“Oh no. I’ll watch whatever you want to watch.”

Finally, I grabbed the remote and found a
Law & Order
we’d all seen twelve times before.

I was ready to scream. Derek had remained in the city that night, so I had no one to be honest with, no one to talk me down if I was itching to step out of line. So, naturally, I did.

“Meeting in the kitchen,” I bellowed the next morning after I’d gulped down my first cup of restorative coffee.

The sliding-glass door in the living room opened and Max walked in. “They probably heard you yelling all the way down in Glen Ellen. What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be outside,” I snapped back.

“Who died and anointed you the pope?” he said.

I ignored him. “Emily, kitchen. Now.”

“I’m in the middle of something,” Emily said, poking her head out of her bedroom door across the living room. “Can’t it wait?”

I stared cockeyed at her.
In the middle of something?
Where did she think she was? There was
nothing
out here to be in the middle of. “No, it can’t wait. Sorry.”

She huffed and puffed her way across the living room and into the kitchen, then flashed me a scathing look. That’s when I realized that the sweet, docile Emily of
yesteryear was now a pleasantly vague memory. I mentally cheered her on and wished Max lotsa luck. Meanwhile…

“I’m sick of us tiptoeing around each other,” I said. “It feels like we’re at some yoga peace retreat where we’re all expected to be enlightened and groovy and polite.”

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“I’m talking about the fact that I’m scared to death and I imagine both of you are, too.”

She took a breath and some of her features relaxed. I took that as a good sign.

“Max,” I continued, “you’re a guy, so you’re putting up a manly front. I get that. But, Emily, you’re acting like we’re at a garden party, having tea. And me? I’ve turned into a raving bitch.” I glanced around. “Okay, no argument there. So look. I know we haven’t seen each other in a few years, but we were friends, remember? I think we need to start working like a team. As
friends
. Not strangers. Not anymore. We need to stay close and be aware of things around us. We need to be our own best security system.”

“I’ve got my rifle with me at all times,” Max said.

I nodded. “I know, and I’m glad. But if someone is watching this place, if they try to attack us, they’re going to do it while Gabriel and Derek are away. So we’re basically on our own here. I think we should talk about contingencies.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” Emily said sarcastically. “May I go now?”

I was taken aback and answered her in kind. “You
may
kiss my butt.” But I immediately regretted it because I knew something was wrong. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said bluntly, before I could finish my sentence.

“You don’t sound fine.”

Her face wrinkled in a scowl and she said, “Bite me.”

It was so incongruous that I laughed. “Okay, you’re supposed to be the nice one. What’s going on?”

She fumed silently and went through lots of lip tightening and teeth baring. Finally she blurted, “I’m going stir-crazy! And I’m frustrated! I’m…I’m…urgh!”

Urgh?
It sounded like she was growling. I had a sneaking feeling what the subtext of her words meant. I turned and looked at Max, who appeared poleaxed. But after a minute, his eyes cleared, then turned dark as he flashed Emily a dangerous scowl.

“Come with me,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of her chair.

“No, you come with me,” she said, and dragged him off toward the bedroom. Before they were out of the room, she hopped up into his arms and straddled him.

Oo-kay. My work here was done.

Over the next few days, I didn’t see much of them. Well, except when they would stumble out of their bedroom, rumpled and replete and hungry. One evening I baked enchiladas, then went to take a long bath. When I got back to the kitchen, there was one enchilada left, and it was the straggly, half-filled one on the end. I guess the young lovers needed to keep up their strength.

When they weren’t in their bedroom they sat close together on the couch or cuddled on the rug near the fireplace, having long, private talks. At night they would venture onto the deck and huddle in a blanket. I couldn’t hear the conversations, just the occasional giggle or sigh.

I was superfluous, except in my role as cook, dishwasher, and feeder of the cat. I couldn’t complain, though. I still had Clyde’s friendship. And it was lovely to watch Max and Emily reconnect.

It wasn’t all hearts and flowers, of course. It was slow going and there were glitches at first. I knew both of them were frustrated. Emily was occasionally tentative and Max had a tendency to brood.

Who could blame either of them? Emily explained to me that she hadn’t been with a man since Max’s “death” three years ago. She’d made every effort to move on, built a good, if quiet, life for herself. She’d been content
to live alone. Now, suddenly, the man she’d loved so deeply had returned. But he’d lied to her, shown he didn’t trust her. Was it any wonder she sometimes questioned their present relationship?

And Max had lived the life of a solitary refugee for the past three years. He had survived in the shadows of society, afraid to be too friendly or gregarious in case he attracted too much attention. He’d always been a bit of a brooder, but now he was world-class.

It was so easy for me to see the big picture from the sidelines, but I tried to avoid offering advice or critiques and simply kept my mouth shut. There was a very good reason for that: namely, I was the last person on earth to give anyone relationship advice. Hello? Once engaged to a gay man? Not smart!

No, the two of them would have to stumble through this one on their own. But I was encouraged and held out hope that they would come through stronger and more in love than ever.

If we all survived the safe house, that was.

Even though I kept my mouth shut, I did keep my eyes open and focused on the “happy” couple. Not simply for safety reasons, but because they were just so fascinating and
normal
.

For some reason, observing the two of them interacting together reminded me of a BBC nature program I’d been hooked on years ago when I was living in London. It was called
The Return of the Tit-Willows
.

Out in the woods, a camera had been inserted inside a tree where the young tit-willow couple had set up residence. Viewers could observe everything the birds were doing. The original reality show, right? It was fascinating to watch, but the absolute best part of the show was the narrator. He would describe each bird’s movements as though he were doing commentary at a golf tournament, his voice hushed and extremely serious. It was gripping.