One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

to the story than that.
     
    And there was still the little matter of Max being
not
dead. And the fact that Guru Bob and my dad had been lying about it for three freaking years.
     
    However, everyone but me seemed relieved to drop the subject for now. And with the lure of food, I was cajoled into relaxing for a while, too. We all stood and helped bring the various casserole dishes and platters of food outside to the sunny terrace. As usual, Mom had prepared enough food for a small army, and we ate at the patio table under their big, colorful umbrella.
     
    “Who wants dessert?” she asked when everyone had eaten their fill. “It’s apple crisp.”
     
    Derek held his stomach. “I’m stuffed to the gills, but I can’t resist.”
     
    “Me, too,” Dad said, and sat back in his chair, clearly suffused with a sense of contentment.
     
    Gabriel helped Mom bring out the dessert, and, sure enough, she’d made her amazing apple crisp with caramel sauce. She served it with ice cream on the side. After we were finished, we all looked ready to nod off.
     
    Once the dishes were cleared, we went into the kitchen and Robson announced he was leaving. Mom gave him a hug and he patted her back. “If it makes you feel better, Rebecca, I plan to sell the homes soon.”
     
    “Sell them? Why?”
     
    Dad snorted. “They won’t be safe houses now that everyone knows about them.”
     
    That was when Mom flashed her scary, wild-eyed rodent glare at him. No one in the family—heck, no one in the
county
—crossed her when she glared at you like that.
     
    Guru Bob glanced at Derek, then over at Gabriel. “I would like someone to drive out to see Max and warn him of these latest developments.”
     
    “I’ll go,” Derek said immediately.
     
    “I’m on it,” Gabriel said at the exact same time.
     
    Robson smiled. “Thank you both. That is what I hoped you would say.”
     
    “Can’t you just give him a call?” Mom said, proving to me that she was still on top of her game.
     
    “He will not answer the telephone,” Robson explained. “It is a precaution we set up in the beginning.”
     
    Now, that was just plain bizarre. Guru Bob sensed my distress and touched my arm. “All will be explained soon, gracious.”
     
    “I hope so,” I said, and looked at Derek. “I’m going, too.”
     
    “No,” Gabriel and Derek said at the same time, then looked at each other. Gabriel grinned, but Derek was smart enough to refrain.
     
    “You two don’t even know Max,” I said reasonably. “I do. He’ll talk to me. So I’m going with you.”
     
    Derek glowered at me.
     
    “She’s got a point.” Gabriel sat at the kitchen table and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Now, I hate to bring this up, because I realize this guy is Dharma’s favorite son. But I hope you’re all prepared to deal with the possibility that he might’ve killed that bookseller.”
     
    “Oh no, dear,” Mom said straight away.
     
    I shook my head. “He didn’t. It’s not an issue.”
     
    Gabriel cast a sideways glance at me. “His tools were found at the crime scene.”
     
    “Doesn’t matter.”
     
    “Okay.” He held up both hands. “Just saying.”
     
    “I understand what you’re getting at,” I said, nodding. “But you don’t know Max. He would never hurt anyone.”
     
    “You haven’t seen him in years.”
     
    “It’s barely been three years, and people don’t change that much.”
     
    “People change when they have to,” Gabriel said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Would the Max you knew a few years back have lied to you? Would he have let you think he’d been dead all this time? Would he let you all mourn him?”
     
    Well, he had me there. I chewed at my bottom lip, caught my mom’s eye, and realized we were both thinking along the same lines. It was so out of character for the Max we knew. But murder? There was no way Max was responsible.
     
    “This whole thing’s got to be some kind of setup or something.”
     
    “How do you figure?” Gabriel asked as he tapped his fingers on the table.
     
    “Well.” I took a last sip of wine to give myself time to think. “Someone wanted to divert suspicion away from themselves. Or wanted to specifically blame Max for Joe’s murder. I just can’t figure out why yet.”
     
    “It’s possible.” Gabriel shrugged. “That means that whoever killed the bookseller must know Max Adams pretty well.”
     
    “That’s right,” I said, and wondered