One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

handsome sight, Brooklyn? I’ll take the cute, rangy one on the right.”
     
    I laughed. “Fine with me. I’ve got dibs on the dark-eyed, dangerous one.”
     
    “A fine choice.”
     
    “I think so,” I murmured. Derek’s eyes never left me as he approached, set his glass down, then sat down next to me. I snuggled up close and was instantly warm and cozy.
     
    Dad leaned over and kissed Mom. “What’ve you two been plotting?”
     
    “Sit and relax, and we’ll tell you.”
     
    “I’m more interested in what you two have been plotting,” I said. Ever since I found out that Dad had played a prominent role in Max’s disappearance, I’d been grilling him for information. He’d filled in some of the blanks on Solomon, but I hadn’t known until Crystal mentioned it that the man was a member of the Ogunite church. I had no idea what significance that held, if any. Dad didn’t know, either.
     
    Derek said he’d make a note to look into the group’s background; then Mom gave an abbreviated rundown of our conversation with Crystal that morning. I added comments here and there.
     
    “I don’t know those boys, Stefan and Bennie,” Dad said.
     
    Mom reminded him that Benjamin Styles had been in London’s high school class, and Dad nodded. “Now I remember him. He’s been in some trouble before. Arrested for attempted burglary. Road racing. Idiot stuff.”
     
    “That goes along with what Crystal said about him, although she never mentioned he’d been arrested.”
     
    “So Solomon has Bennie teaching him to load ammunition,” Derek mused. “Interesting choice of chums.”
     
    “Yes, isn’t it?” I said, smiling at his use of the word
chum
. What a perfectly darling word. I was going to use it from now on.
     
    I stared at my half-full wineglass and wondered if I’d had too much to drink. I didn’t think so, but, then, I didn’t often wax lyrically over a bit of British slang.
     
    “Becky and I are friendly with several survivalist families who have moved in together down in the Hollow,” Dad said. “But those people maintain sober, vegan homes and are relatively harmless.”
     
    “I doubt Solomon is one of that ilk,” Derek said.
     
    “He’s far from harmless,” Mom agreed.
     
    “Well, I guess the term
harmless
is relative,” Dad said. “After all, even the nicest families in the Hollow have arsenals in their basements that rival Fort Ord.”
     
    “Is that right?” Derek said, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be sure to look into that.”
     
    Later that evening as we took a circuitous route up the mountain to Jackson’s house, Gabriel was in a somber mood, so we avoided discussing anything too heavy. I tried to lighten things up by regaling Derek and Gabriel with a description of Mom’s roundabout tour of the countryside in her attempt to avoid being followed the other day.
    They were both chuckling as we walked to the door, then sobered up as I knocked twice and used my key. They both drew their weapons as I pushed open the door and walked inside. Max stood in the living room with the rifle pointed directly at me.
     
    “All rightie, then,” I said, and held up the shopping bag I was carrying. “I’ve brought dinner.”
     
    “Let’s talk first,” Max said.
     
    “Let’s eat first.” I was no fool. Men were way calmer after they had some food in their stomachs. So was I.
     
    Fifteen minutes later, we were gathered around the dining table with plates in front of us. Mom had insisted on supplying us with her famous taco casserole, thinking we’d been ordering pizza every night. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Max was a fantastic cook and we’d been eating well almost every night. I heated up her casserole and tossed the salad she’d made with the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers she’d picked from her garden that morning.
     
    The men ate heartily but silently for a few minutes; then Max threw down his fork and glared at Gabriel. “So?”
     
    Gabriel looked up, gave Max a long, steady stare as he slowly swallowed his last bite. “Emily wasn’t home, man. There were no signs of foul play, but it looked like she hadn’t been home in more than a week.”
     
    “She could be on a trip,” I said lamely.
     
    “Where could she have gone?” Max stood up and walked away from the table, then turned and muttered, “Forget it. I have no right to know.”
     
    “Don’t make me hit you,” I said mildly. The sad tone of his voice caused me to