Текст книги "One Book in the Grave"

Автор книги: Kate Carlisle

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Later that night, Gabriel called and I put him on speakerphone. Clyde sat on my lap during the conversation.

“I swung by Angelica’s place again,” Gabriel said. “Everything was neat and clean, same as last time, except for one little change.”

I jumped forward in my chair. “What?”

“Did you find a gun?” Max asked.

“No,” he said. “I found every piece of clothing from her closet tossed on the bed.”

“So she probably wasn’t there to meet a guy,” I said.

Derek’s eyebrow jutted up. “Bit difficult to carry on an affair when you can’t find the bed.”

“Were the clothes tossed neatly?” I asked.

“No,” Gabriel said. “It was a mess. Jumbled.”

“Like she was packing in a hurry?” I suggested.

Gabriel paused, then said, “Maybe. At first I was thinking she might’ve stopped by to pick up something different to wear. Except—”

“Except it’s a mess,” I cut in. “So why would she leave everything out in a pile on the bed? Especially when the rest of the place is so tidy?”

“Good question,” Gabriel said.

“You’ll watch for her next move,” Derek said.

Gabriel made a sound of disgust. “I would if I could find her. She’s disappeared.”

“Maybe she did pack for a trip,” I said.

“Maybe,” Gabriel said, but he sounded unconvinced. Changing the subject, he said, “I tracked down Bennie and Stefan. Or maybe I should call them Beavis and Butt-head. Whoever said they weren’t exactly geniuses was right on. Personally, I think they would sell their souls for a box of candy bars.”

“So they should be easy to manipulate,” Derek said.

I had already told them about the conversation with Bennie at the Art Institute store the other day, so now I agreed. “Bennie would be very easy to manipulate. Stefan seemed to be a little more on the ball. Still, Solomon is a master manipulator. He would have no problem with either of them.”

“That was my impression, too,” Gabriel said. “And I took your advice and snuck into one of his classes. Interesting guy.”

“For a psychopath,” Max muttered.

“Exactly,” Gabriel said.

“What else?” Derek asked.

Gabriel paused, then said, “Well, now that I’ve been out to the Hollow a few times, I’ll admit I misjudged the place. Maybe it was because of that name, the Hollow, but I assumed the houses would be shacks and hovels. They’re not. A bunch of them are really nice and some of them are huge.”

“The Ogunites believe in having lots of babies,” I explained.

“That must be why,” Gabriel said. “Anyway, back to Bennie and Stefan. Solomon might be getting those two knuckleheads to do some of his dirty work, but my professional opinion? Neither of them is clever or vicious enough to have killed Joe Taylor.”

Derek leaned one elbow on the table. “So that brings us back to Angelica or Solomon.”

“Right.”

“I’m betting on Solomon,” I said, and felt a chill as I recalled his piercing look that day I walked into his lecture hall. There was little doubt a man like that could manipulate a weaker person into committing murder.

Chapter 19

Tuesday morning, Derek left for his office as the sun was rising. I was awake, anyway, so I decided to get an early start on my work. I was popping chocolate kisses and measuring out boards to cut for the new cover of Beauty and the Beast when Ian called.

“I’m checking up on you and the book,” he said. “How’s my Beauty doing?”

“I’m putting a whole new cover on your Beauty,” I said with a smile as I reached for another chocolate kiss. “It’s going to look fantastic.”

“So you’re going ahead with the restoration? That’s great news.”

Yikes. I probably shouldn’t have told him I was restoring the book. If he asked if I’d gotten permission from Emily, I would have to lie. I couldn’t tell him about Max. Not yet, anyway. I hung my head in dismay at my big mouth. “Um, yeah. I decided it needed an overhaul, so I’ve made an executive decision to take care of it while I wait to hear from Emily.”

“So you haven’t talked to her yet?”

“Not yet.” I scrambled for an excuse. “I left a message. She’s, um, out of town right now, but I expect to hear from her soon.”

“You’re still going to ask her to donate it to the Covington?”

“Absolutely.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him I would ask Max about it. I was a terrible liar and almost as bad at withholding information. Of course, Ian was so focused on work at the Covington, I wondered if he’d even heard about Joe Taylor’s murder yet. Oh, he had to have heard by now. The book world was so small and garrulous, the news would have spread like crazy. But I wasn’t about to bring up the topic, and I certainly wasn’t going to admit that I was the one who found Joe’s body.

“Look,” he said, “shouldn’t there be a statute of limitations or something? You know, if you haven’t heard from her in thirty days, the book is mine?”

I smiled. “I’ll look into that.”

“I’m just encouraged that you’re restoring it. Maybe I’ll drop by to see it.”

I almost choked on my Hershey’s Kiss. “Um, I’m not sure I’ll be home, so you’d better call first.”

“I’ll take my chances. See you later, Brooklyn.”

The following day, Ian made good on his warning.

On a whim that morning, I’d made a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough and put the first two dozen cookies in the oven to bake.

While I waited for the cookies, I mixed up some polyvinyl acetate, or PVA, the archival glue I used for bookbinding and book repair. It had a low moisture content, dried quickly, and remained flexible.

I had my largest cutting board out on the worktable, ready to go. But first I began drawing a template. The vermilion morocco was too precious to cut without measuring it precisely first. After I made the final cut, I would be ready to glue it to the boards and the spine.

I was getting ahead of myself. I still needed to resew the signatures and clean the book thoroughly. But I couldn’t wait. The leather cover made me giddy with excitement. And didn’t I sound like the biggest book geek ever?

The timer went off and I ran back to the kitchen to remove the two cookie sheets from the oven. The cookies were baked to perfection, golden brown with perfectly melted bits of chocolate and still soft to the touch. While transferring them to a rack to cool off, I almost stuffed one into my mouth, but I resisted, barely.

As I slid two more sheets into the oven, my telephone rang. It was two quick rings, then nothing, which meant that someone was at the front door of my building, buzzing to be let inside.

“Max,” I called, but he didn’t respond, so I knew he wasn’t in the apartment. He had to be up on the roof.

I was expecting my new bookshelves to be delivered today or tomorrow, but just in case it wasn’t the delivery man, I needed Max to stay hidden. Feeling a hint of desperation, I grabbed the phone to see who was downstairs.

“Hey, Brooklyn, it’s me,” Ian said.

“Ian, what do you want?” How rude was that? He was going to think I was off my rocker. “I’m sorry, Ian. I’m just a little stressed. What’s going on?”

“I’m right outside,” he said. “Let me in. I want to say hi and see the book.”

“Um, sure. Great. Here you go.” I pressed the code numbers to release the door lock, then raced upstairs to the roof.

“Max,” I yelled, since the wind made it hard to hear. “Someone’s coming to see me, so stay up here, okay? Don’t come downstairs.”

“Okay, no problem,” he said, waving me off, as casual as could be. “Let me know when it’s safe to come down.”

“You got it.” I went running back down the stairs and closed the door that led to the roof, wondering how the hell he could be so laid-back when I was running around like a crazy person.

Ian stayed for almost an hour. I showed him the leather I’d chosen for the cover, and we discussed the ideas I had for gilding the leather. He suggested an elaborately gilded, highly stylized cover with curlicues in each corner. Since the book was from the Victorian era, I went along with his idea for a fancy design.

While he was here, I pulled more cookies out of the oven. Ian grabbed two while they were still warm. Shortly after that, he took off, and by then I was ready to collapse. All this running around and worrying was taking its toll. The PVA had hardened, so I would have to make another batch. But not right away. Just now, I felt like taking a nap. Maybe I would take the rest of the day off, eat cookies, and read a good book.

I was starting up the stairs to let Max know the coast was clear when the phone rang twice and stopped again. Someone else is at the front door? What the heck? I ran to the kitchen phone to answer it.

“Hey, Brooklyn. It’s me, Ian.”

“Did you forget something?”

“Nope, just wanted to let you know a delivery guy is here with a huge box for you. I let him inside.”

“Oh, my bookshelves. Thanks, Ian.”

We hung up, and it was a full minute later before I heard our building’s ancient industrial freight elevator chug into action.

I cleaned off my worktable and tossed the PVA in the trash can.

The elevator shuddered to a stop and a few seconds later there was a knock on my door. That was one speedy deliveryman.

Max was hidden away on the roof and everything was fine. I took a few deep breaths to steady my heart. I really wasn’t cut out for a life of intrigue.

Oh, who was I kidding? I thrived on intrigue, but this day was driving me batty.

“Brooklyn, yoo-hoo!” A voice called through the door. “You are home?”

My neighbor Vinnie? I ran to open the door.

“Hello, my friend,” she said, and stepped inside.

I wrapped her in a warm hug. “Where’s Suzie? How are you? I haven’t seen you all week.”

“We are fine,” she said in her chirpy voice. I held her at arm’s length to take in her outfit of black bustier, denim cutoffs, and army boots. On her it all worked.

Then I realized there was someone standing behind her.

“Delivery for Wainwright?” he said, parking his furniture dolly while he wiped his forehead with his baseball cap. Towering over him was a large brown box, about six feet tall and almost three feet wide. No wonder he seemed out of breath.

“Right,” I said, grinning. “My bookshelves. Come on in.”

I led the way, and Vinnie followed me from my workshop studio, where my front door was, through the short hall that led to my living room. I pointed to the wall on the left that was bare. “You can leave the box right there.”

“That is why I am here, Brooklyn,” she explained in her lilting Indian accent. “I saw this man stepping off the elevator and I told him I would show him the way.”

“Yo, Brooklyn?”

“There’s Suzie,” Vinnie said, then cried out, “We are in here, Suzie.” Suzie and Vinnie were a loving couple as well as business partners in chain-saw artistry.

“I knew it, you sneaky bitch.”

That wasn’t Suzie’s voice. A sharp pain in my neck made me gasp aloud.

Minka?

She pushed her way past the delivery guy, lumbered right up to me, and smacked my arm. “How dare you?”

“Hey,” I said, rubbing my arm. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed Ian over here. I was sure he was up to no good.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Ew. What a slob. “When he left just now, he let this delivery guy in, so now I’ve caught you in a lie you can’t slither out of.”

“How’d you get into the building?”

“Your front door takes forever to close, so I got in after him.”

“Well, get out.”

Suzie moved in closer and Minka cringed. Good. Suzie looked a lot tougher than she was, but at times like this, flexing some muscle couldn’t hurt.

“I’m not leaving until I get some of the books Ian delivered to you.”

“What books?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.” She flicked her chin toward the delivery guy. “You’ve got that whole big box of books to restore. I want some.”

“Oh, my God,” I muttered. “You are deranged.”

“Right here okay?” the deliveryman asked.

I whipped around and saw he was standing right where I’d showed him. “Perfect. Thanks.”

“These are the bookshelves you ordered last week?” Vinnie asked. “Can we see them?”

“Yes,” I said, shifting away from Minka. “They’re a really nice oak and they’re going to go on this wall. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Vinnie said.

“Cool,” Suzie said. “I like books everywhere.”

We watched the deliveryman maneuver the box off the dolly inch by inch; then he held one end and carefully laid it down on the floor. “There you go.”

“Anybody home?” someone bellowed from my front door.

I jolted. Yet another person was at my door?

But Vinnie smiled and said, “It’s Jeremy and Sergio.”

More fun neighbors.

“Come in,” I shouted in the general direction of the front door. “Close the door behind you, please.”

“A party on a Wednesday afternoon—how delicious,” Jeremy said as he hugged me. Then he gazed beyond me toward the kitchen. “Ooh, cookies.”

“Bring the plate over,” I said.

Jeremy went after the cookies, and his boyfriend, Sergio, grabbed me. “Hi, cutie.”

“Hi, Sergio,” I said, patting his back. “How are you?”

“Fabuloso, as always.”

“Brooklyn, darling, are we having a party?”

“Derek?” I spotted him coming through the hall and into the living room. “You’re home early.”

“A good thing, apparently,” he said, kissing me firmly, then wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “I do hate to miss a party.”

Minka shoved me again. “I don’t care if you’re having a party. I want answers. And I want my share of the Covington work.”

I turned on her. “They’re not books, Minka. They’re book shelves. I ordered them a week ago.” I realized I was yelling but I couldn’t help it. She was a delusional moron with a left jab that could land you in the hospital.

“Liar!” she cried.

“Oh, my God.” I grabbed my own hair to keep from strangling her. “You’re a lunatic and you’re trespassing. Now leave before I call the police.”

“Hello, Derek,” Vinnie said brightly, ignoring the commotion.

“Vinnie,” he said, giving her a hug as he observed my less-than-amusing tête-à-tête with Minka. “How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Sign for this?” The deliveryman shoved a clipboard in front of me. A pen was taped to the steel clip.

“Sure.” I signed my name and he tore off a receipt and handed it to me. Then he turned the dolly around and took off for the door.

“Thank you,” I called after him. I heard my front door slam shut and felt momentarily relieved until I realized Minka was still there.

“Cookie?” Jeremy said, holding the plate out.

“Yes.” I shoved half of the cookie into my mouth. “We have milk.”

“Ooh, yummers,” Jeremy said. “I’ll get it.”

“Darling, what’s going on?” Derek leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Where is our houseguest?”

I stood on tiptoe and answered quietly, “On the roof.” I turned and looked around at the confusion. Derek and I gazed at each other, then shrugged and laughed.

“I’ll open some wine,” he said, and I nodded my approval.

“Hey, Brooklyn, aren’t you going to open the box?” Suzie asked as she munched on a cookie.

“Yeah,” Minka snarled as she adjusted her hat. “I’m not leaving until I’ve seen exactly what’s in there.”

“Whoa.” I must have been distracted before, because I was just now getting my first good look at her—and had to shield my eyes. Pink and plastic were her watchwords today. The shirt was a shiny, one-shoulder creation that stretched across her voluptuous bosom so tightly that if it came loose, I feared somebody would lose an eye. Her pink stretch pants were sliced vertically all the way up her thighs so her skin popped out appallingly. She wore a matching pink, glittery pillbox hat tilted jauntily to one side.

Words failed me.

Derek stepped forward and held up my heavy-duty Tough Tool box cutters he’d found in my workroom. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” I said. “Would you do the honors, please?”

He knelt down next to the big box and sliced the cardboard top open to reveal another box, this one made of wood.

“Are those the shelves?” Suzie asked. “They look unfinished.”

A highly suspicious Minka stood over one end of the box with her arms folded across her chest, just waiting to point an accusing finger at me. Moronic twit.

“This is so exciting,” Sergio said, fanning himself. “Ooh, Derek, you’re so strong.”

Jeremy licked his lips in agreement.

I giggled at Derek’s momentary look of horror.

He moved around the edges of the wooden crate, using the heavy blade of the cutters to pry the top up. “Help me with this, will you?”

Suzie and I gripped one end while Derek took the other end. Together we lifted off the top and laid it along the side of the crate.

“Well?” I asked, turning around to look at my friends’ reactions.

Jeremy screamed and slid to the floor.

“Holy crap,” Suzie shouted and skittered backward.

Vinnie made some kind of wheezing sound and yanked Suzie back farther. She began chanting something in her native language, then cried out, “Dear goddess, what evil has come into our world?”

I turned and looked. And gasped. Derek grabbed me before I could join Jeremy on the floor, and pressed my head to his chest so tightly I could barely breathe.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” Suzie chanted.

“This isn’t happening,” I muttered, lifting my head to catch my breath.

Minka whipped around, pointed at me, and screamed, “You’re a sick, twisted bitch!” Then she made a gagging sound and ran for the door. I could hear her screaming all the way down the hall.

I braced myself, then turned back to make double sure I wasn’t hallucinating.

But no, it wasn’t an illusion. Lying in the box was Angelica, almost as beautiful as she’d ever been, surrounded by faded, wilting flowers. Her hair was coiffed, her makeup was perfect, and she was very, very dead.

Chapter 20

Minka’s screeching could be heard for blocks around. It brought Max racing down from the roof.

“What the hell’s wrong?” he shouted from across the living room. “Sounds like a screaming hyena out there.”

I whipped around. “Oh, Max,” I cried, and ran to meet him.

“Are you okay, hon?” he asked, rubbing my back. “Was that you screaming?”

I shook my head but couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him what was wrong, so I just stood there as he rocked me in his arms.

I could see Derek bent over the corpse, doing something. Knowing Derek, he was probably checking for a pulse and telltale signs of her cause of death. A minute later, he circled the room, surveying the people, appraising the situation, focusing on triage.

Finally, he approached Sergio and clutched his shoulder. “Take everyone to your place, would you? And tell them to stay there. I’ll be over in a few minutes to ask some questions.”

Sergio nodded, immediately accepting Derek as the top dog. Slipping his arm through Jeremy’s, Sergio lifted his partner off the floor in one smooth movement. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go get some air.”

Suzie latched onto Jeremy’s other side, then motioned for her partner. “Vinnie, baby, come on.”

“Oh, Brooklyn, I am praying for you,” Vinnie said, then grabbed hold of Suzie’s hand and walked out with the others. I watched them go, wondering if my neighbors would ever speak to me again. And with that thought, my eyes filled with tears.

I know I was a terrible person, but I couldn’t help thinking that even dead, Angelica was making trouble for me.

“It’s okay, Brooklyn,” Max murmured, then nudged me back and bent down to meet my gaze. “Now tell me what happened?”

I looked up at him and realized he had no clue what had just occurred. “Not sure you want to know,” I said, but I grabbed his hand and turned and steered him slowly across the room.

Derek stopped him. “Be prepared for a shock, mate.”

“Over there,” I said, pointing at the box.

“Yeah, okay.” Max frowned, then straightened his shoulders and stalked over to the box. He took one look inside, then shouted an incoherent epithet and jumped back a foot. He began to swear like a sailor, then instantly found religion. “Holy Jesus! Mother of God!”

Finally, he whirled around and grabbed his head with both hands. “Christ! That’s sick. Who would do that?”

That was pretty much the question of the hour.

“Put the cover back on the box, would you?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Max agreed loudly. “Damn. Let’s do that.”

As he and Derek lifted the heavy wooden top, I brushed my hair back off my forehead and tried to catch my breath. I was still shaking, could still feel the residual terror of that first moment when I realized that a dead body had been delivered to my home.

What had I done? Why had someone sent me such a hateful, macabre message?

More important, what had Angelica done? Well, she’d been a bitch, treated a lot of people badly, but had she deserved to be used as an object of horror?

To someone, she obviously had. And I knew that someone was Solomon. That man had a lot to answer for.

Was this all about Max? Or me? Both of us? Who was the message intended for? My head was spinning with questions and no clear answers.

I watched as Derek and Max straightened the edges of the box; then they both stepped back. Max looked grim as he walked out of the room.

“How did she die?” I asked Derek.

He gritted his teeth. “I suspect asphyxiation.”

“She was strangled?”

“Suffocated,” he corrected.

“Like, with a pillow, you mean?”

“Perhaps,” he said, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Something plastic is more likely.”

I winced. “Oh.”

After a moment of silence, he pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Gabriel.”

I nodded. “I’ll call the police.”

“Look who’s moving up in the world,” Inspector Lee said cheerfully as she walked into my workroom.

“What do you mean?” I said, lifting my head from the table. While she’d been observing the crime scene, I’d been resting my eyes for a few minutes. But it hadn’t helped to erase that vision of Angelica in the box. I feared it was permanently planted in my brain.

“I mean, you’re not going out looking for dead bodies anymore,” she explained with a smirk. “Now you’re having them delivered.”

I stared at her in amazement.

“What?” she said.

“That is just so mean.”

She laughed. “Lighten up, Wainwright. We’ve got to keep a sense of humor about these things.”

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.