One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

by that name died almost three years ago.”
     
    She gave me a withering look as she dangled the knife in front of me. “Uh-huh. And what’re the odds of another Max owning a knife so much like the one your dead friend owned? Or are you saying this is some kind of sign from the grave?”
     
    I glanced wide-eyed at Derek, whose concern for me showed in his expression. Turning back to Lee, I said, “I didn’t say that. Maybe someone stole the knife from Max’s family or they sold it somewhere. But other than those possibilities, I don’t have a clue how it got here.”
     
    “I think you do, Brooklyn,” she said quietly. “You know these book people; you’re part of that world. And I’m thinking you’ve got a pretty good idea of who might’ve killed Joseph Taylor.”
     
    “I don’t,” I insisted. “I swear it.”
     
    “You can swear all you want, but this connects you to the murder,” she said quietly as she dropped the knife into a plastic Ziploc bag. “You know that, right? Whether you like it or not, you’re in this up to your eyeballs. Again.”
     
    “I don’t like it one bit,” I muttered, glowering at her.
     
    Derek stepped forward. “This is a busy neighborhood. Somebody must’ve seen the person who did it.”
     
    “Good thinking,” I said, flashing him a grateful look. “They would’ve had to have jabbed the tire a bunch of times to shred it so badly. Somebody must’ve noticed.”
     
    “Possibly.” Lee pulled out her cell phone and dialed the police dispatcher. After requesting patrol assistance, she hung up. To us, she said, “We’ll do some canvassing, but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for someone to come forward.”
     
    In less than a minute, we heard a siren.
     
    “Can we go now?” I asked.
     
    “Sure, you can go,” she said with an evil grin. “But not in your car. It’s just been turned into a crime scene.”
     

Chapter 5
     
    Reluctantly, I left my trusty hybrid in the hands of the San Francisco Police Department and Inspector Lee, who promised I could have it back by Tuesday. Then, to cajole me out of my depressed, dead-body-magnet mood, Derek drove straight to my favorite steak house. We were ushered to a comfortable, dark green booth in the corner with a view of the bustling room.
    I was hoping a bottle of wine would magically appear on the linen-covered table.
     
    Chalk it up to ennui or just plain exhaustion, but for the first time in my life, I allowed a man to order dinner for me. Derek knew all my favorite foods, namely, red meat, red wine, and chocolate soufflé. We both began with a lettuce wedge doused in blue cheese dressing, and I felt myself rebounding as the meal progressed. The comfort food, the dark green booths, the wood-paneled walls, the waiters in white shirts with their long black aprons tied neatly at the waist—all of it gave the room a warm, clubby feel that pampered and soothed my spirit.
     
    Some women might’ve chosen a pedicure or a massage to perk them up, but for me, it’s all about food. The steak house provided the miracle cure I needed. The fact that Derek had known exactly what would work to snap me out of my doldrums was just one more feather added to his cap. Seriously, what woman wouldn’t love a boyfriendwho acted all James Bond, looked all Hugh Jackman, and knew me well enough to ply me with my favorite foods?
     
    We got to bed early that night, since we’d planned to leave the next morning to spend a few days in Dharma. Tomorrow was the grand opening of my sister Savannah’s new restaurant, Arugula, on Shakespeare Lane.
     
    Dharma had grown to become quite the wine-country tourist spot, and the Lane, as it was called, was currently the hottest destination in the area. Everyone in my family was geared up to make Savannah’s opening a great success.
     
    But Joe’s death and his connection to Emily and Max’s
Beauty and the Beast
had caused me to rethink some of my weekend plans. I felt as though I’d lost Max all over again. The knives I’d found at the crime scene and in my tire had spooked me badly. I wanted to spend some time commiserating with my family and others in Dharma who had known Max all those years ago. I was also hoping to talk to Guru Bob about the whole dead-body-magnet phenomenon. With any luck, he would have some good advice for me.
     
    Derek and I were on the road at eight o’clock the next morning. It was a disturbingly early start, especially after having shared a