One Book In The Grave

“I have to wonder why the police didn’t do more to help.”

“The police were useless,” he insisted. “They didn’t believe me because my enemies were pillars of society and I was…well, I wasn’t a pillar of anything.”

I took hold of his arm. “You were a respected artist. A teacher. You gave lectures and classes all over the country.”

“Yeah, that and five dollars will get you a grande latte.” He went back to stirring his sauce.

“Who were these people, Max?” I asked. “I swear you can trust us. We’re here for you.”

“Brooklyn’s right,” Derek said. “It’s time you let us know who you’re afraid of. We can help.”

Max wrapped his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me for comfort. I gazed up at him and said, “Not all police are like the ones you dealt with. We’ve been working with a pair of San Francisco detectives who won’t give a damn how powerful your enemies are. If the people you’re talking about killed Joe, these two detectives will take them down.”

Gabriel leaned his hip against the counter by the sink. “I’m not a great lover of cops, but I still don’t get why they wouldn’t help you. Was there something else going on back then?”

“Yeah.” Max went back to his saucepan and studiously avoided making eye contact with me. “I was kind of into drugs back then.”

“But wasn’t everyone?” Gabriel said. “Why would they single you out?”

Max clenched his teeth. “I’d gotten busted a few years earlier. One of the local cops decided to hold a grudge.”

“You were into drugs, Max?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice.

Max turned and rolled his eyes at me. “Yes, Brooklyn. And so was everyone else. Except you, Miss Goody Two-shoes.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I wasn’t like that.” Was I?

Derek gazed at me from across the center table. “You never did drugs, Brooklyn?”

“No. I never wanted to.” I frowned and tried to explain away my deep, dark secret. “You’ve met my parents. Who needs drugs with them around?”

Gabriel smirked. “There’s definitely a natural high going on in that house.”

“I know, right?” I smiled but still felt a little defensive, so I folded my arms across my chest. “Look, despite my parents’ wackiness, they were always happy. They raised us to enjoy life. I think we all do that pretty well now. I mean, clearly I’m not perfect-far from it. But I just never felt the need to get high.”

Max grabbed plates from the cupboard. “Some of us weren’t that lucky.”

“On the other hand,” I added quickly, “my family makes wine and I do love to drink it. So I guess you could call that my drug of choice.”

“You’re a wild woman, Brooklyn Wainwright,” Gabriel said, grinning at me.

“Yeah, right,” I said, scoffing.

Derek smiled at me and winked. Okay, he was wild enough for both of us.

The cat came walking up to me so I stooped to pet its soft fur. I could hear him purring as he rubbed against me. “I think Clyde likes me.”

“Pasta’s ready,” Max said, and drained the contents of the pot into a colander. “Three-minute warning.”

Derek turned on the broiler, then squatted down to check the level of the flame. Standing, he turned to Max and said, “To get back to the original question, who do you think is behind all this?”

Max poured the drained pasta into the large pan with the sauce and tossed everything together. “I would be willing to swear it’s one of two people, or it might be both of them working together. My old boss, Solomon, and an ex-girlfriend, Angelica Johansen.”

“Oh, my God. I know them,” I said. “Are you sure?”

“Does Solomon have a last name?” Gabriel asked, already typing something into his smart phone.

“Probably, but he never used it. Just went by Solomon. I think he tried to get his name changed legally but the court wouldn’t go for it. I don’t think anyone knew his last name.”

“Huh. Like someone else I know,” I said, casting a long look at Gabriel, who’d never revealed his last name to me. Even his business card simply read GABRIEL.

Derek checked on the toasting bread, then turned to me. “What did you know of these people, Brooklyn?”

I finished setting napkins and flatware around the kitchen table as I told them of the brief time I worked with Solomon and Angelica.

It was at least ten years ago, when I was twenty-one or twenty-two. I was an overachiever so I’d already gotten my master’s in art, and Max knew I was thinking of becoming a teacher. He was a rising star at the Sonoma Institute of the Arts and he recommended me for a summer job teaching a bookbinding class. It was a great opportunity for me and I was thrilled. But first I had to meet his boss, Solomon, the head of the department.

“I liked Solomon a lot at first,” I said as I took the bowls Max filled and put them at each place setting. “He came across as funny and charming. I watched him teach, too, and he was charismatic, very attractive, and really artistic. But over the weeks I saw that he could also be demanding and mercurial. I tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, but he threw these Friday-night parties and expected the entire staff to attend, so I had to deal with him on those occasions. It was uncomfortable.”

“Did that bastard hit on you?” Max demanded.

Gabriel opened a bottle of red wine, and Derek brought out the bread, golden brown and fragrant. He tossed all the slices into the bread basket Max had provided. I smiled at him as we sat down to eat. Everything looked and smelled heavenly. I had to take a bite before I could do anything else.

“This is fabulous,” I said. Seemed like I hadn’t eaten in hours and that just wasn’t right. The sauce was tangy, rich, and chunky, and it made me and my taste buds stand up and cheer.

“Anyway, yes, he did hit on me. Frankly, he hit on every woman,” I admitted finally. “But I just played dumb. It wasn’t hard to do since I was such a newbie. I got out of more than a few awkward situations by acting like I simply didn’t know what in the world these guys were talking about.” I batted my eyelashes to demonstrate.

“He was an arrogant jerk,” Max said.

I stared at him. “I just now realized why everyone was always leaving the party to go to the bathroom. That’s where the drugs were, right?”

“Good guess.”

“Just like every other party in the known universe,” Gabriel said, then added, “This pasta is fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Max said, then peered at me. “You really were a youngster back then.”

“Young and ridiculously naive.”

“Darling, thinking back, can you imagine Solomon killing someone?” Derek asked.

I thought about it as I scooped up another bite of pasta, then shook my head. “He was creepy, but not in a murderous way. Not back then, anyway.”

“Tell us about the woman,” Derek said, pouring a bit more wine into my glass. Ah, cabernet.

Max swallowed a bite of pasta, then said, “Angelica was a renowned letterpress artist and teacher. Her resume was awesome.”

“Her resume,” I said, choking back a laugh. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“Very funny,” he said, making a face.

I turned to Derek. “She was nutso.”

Max chuckled. “Well, now I might agree. But back then, I just thought she was a little intense.”

“You say tomato.” I put my fork down. “Come on, Max. She never let you out of her sight. Her possessiveness was weird. Verging on psycho, really. She was especially vigilant whenever I was around.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Because she didn’t show you that side of her. But I caught the vibe right away.” I popped a warm chunk of bread into my mouth and savored the flavor. “You know I always looked up to you, Max. We were friends. I hate to say it, but Angie seemed jealous of our history together.”

Gabriel leaned forward. “Did you spend much time with her?”

“God, no,” I said quickly. “Whenever I came around, she would make up an excuse to leave, always dragging Max off with her. The few times I spoke with her alone, she mostly issued veiled threats.”

“I’m sorry to say, I can believe that,” Max said.