One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

so sorry, Max!!
     
    Solomon’s jealousy has boiled over into madness. You know he’s part of that crazy church group, but lately he’s become more involved with their more fringe survivalist members, who collect guns and practice shooting all day. I’m worried that he’s become even more dangerous and unbalanced than he was three years ago when he harassed you so badly that you had to fake your own death to escape him.
     
    Now I wonder if I will have to do the same.
     
    I’ve decided that the only way to warn you is to put this book back on the market in just the right way that it will get to the right person. I’ve done my homework, but the rest is up to the fates.
     
    The book will end up at Covington Library. When the curator sees the damage I’ve deliberatelydone to the book, I am confident that he will call in a book restoration expert. My research points to your old friend Brooklyn as the most likely person to restore the book. I’m counting on her being as single-minded and obstinate as she was years ago. She will find this letter and track you down. Fitting, isn’t it? Since she was the one who gave you the book in the first place. I love a circle!
     
    So, if you are reading this letter, it means you’re still alive—thank God! Please, Max, be careful. Solomon wants you dead. For real this time. Don’t underestimate his reach. He will find you and kill you.
     
    I’m frantic with worry. Things have spiraled out of control. You might still blame me for ruining your life, but I am innocent. Solomon ruined both our lives, Max. We have that much in common, at least.
     
    If the world is fair, if the universe sees fit to reunite true lovers, you and I will be together someday. But if it isn’t meant to be, my one last wish for you, Max, is to be happy.
     
    I love you. I love you. I love you!!
     
    Your Angelica
     
    “The woman thought of everything,” I muttered, kicking the bricks that lined the hearth. “Right down to the tattered, overly glued turn-ins.”
     
    “Incredible,” he muttered.
     
    “And you know she’s lying about finding the book in a used bookstore. She was the one who broke into Emily’s house and stole the book. She was a liar then and she still was when she wrote this letter.”
     
    “She wants me to be happy? After everything she pulled?” Max crumpled up the note and threw it against the wall. “What a lying load of crap.” He spat out the words.
     
    “She did her homework about me,” I said, feeling a little sick that I had played such a key role in her maneuverings.I picked up the letter he’d tossed, knowing the police would want it as evidence in Angelica’s death. Carrying it into the kitchen, I grabbed a Ziploc bag from the drawer and tucked the pages inside. “In order for you to get the letter, she had to have worked backward, starting with me.”
     
    “Right,” he said. “If she could get the book to you, then you would be able to track me down.”
     
    “But how did she know I gave you the book in the first place?”
     
    “Damn it.” He slapped his forehead. “I made it easy for her.”
     
    “How’d you do that?”
     
    He leaned back against the sliding-glass door and closed his eyes. “Angelica kept calling me, even after Emily and I were engaged.”
     
    “But why? You mentioned that before, but you said she’d gone back to Solomon. So what was her deal?”
     
    “It was all a game,” he said, pacing again. “Always a game with her. I’m sure she kept calling me just to make Solomon jealous.”
     
    “That’s the way she operated.”
     
    “Yeah. She called after my engagement party to rant about Emily, saying Emily wasn’t good enough for me.” He shook his head. “If only she knew how wrong she was.”
     
    “Of course she was wrong, Max.”
     
    He went on. “I argued with Angelica, then mentioned that you’d given me that book as a gift because the story symbolized Emily’s and my deep love for each other.”
     
    “Oh, nice going.”
     
    “I know, I know. I was feeding the flames,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “But I was so damn grateful to be out of Angie’s sick web, I wanted to rub her nose in it. You know?”
     
    “Well, that backfired,” I said, stating the obvious. “Anyway, she knew I gave you the book, so she had that to work with. Evidently, she did some digging and found out I was friends with Ian and that he hired me for a lotof restoration projects. She also must’ve