One Book In The Grave

dried stuff. “These are pineapple. They’re my favorites. Try some.”

I examined it first to make sure it wasn’t jewelry, then took a small bite of the overly sweet, chewy fruit. “Thanks. But that’s it for me. I’m starting to get full.”

“Dried fruit will fill you up, but in a good way,” Crystal insisted. “Much better than potato chips.”

I ignored that blasphemy as she forced several more types of fruits on me. Finally I grabbed my stomach and begged to take a break.

“She’s always had a delicate system,” Mom murmured to Crystal, who nodded sagely.

“It’s all delicious,” I lied, “but I think I’d rather wear your dried fruit than eat it.”

Pleased, Crystal clapped her hands. “I love to hear that.”

“OMG, we have our first dehydrator sale,” Melody whispered, surreptitiously waving a check at her sister before shoving it into her pants pocket.

“OMG,” Crystal whispered back, tittering with excitement. Then she somberly pressed her hands to her chest and gazed heavenward. “Thank you, great Ogun.”

“Congratulations,” I said.

“Dried fruit for everyone!” Melody cried, shoving plates out toward the people passing by.

After a few minutes of giggles and text talk between the sisters, my mother was finally able to corner Crystal to ask if she’d talked to Bennie about teaching her how to load ammo.

“Oh, I meant to tell you first thing,” she said. “Yes, we talked, and Bennie will be happy to show you how to do it. But he said he’d have to come over to your place.”

“It’s simple enough for me to drive out to his house,” Mom said. “I hate to inconvenience him when he’s doing me a favor.”

Crystal made a face as she held up her hand. “Let him come to you, Mrs. Wainwright. His place is always a mess. I’ve been there, so I know it’s true.”

“Crystal, do you think Bennie’s a good teacher?” Mom’s tone was confidential. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, so I don’t want him to get too frustrated with me.”

“You’ll be fine.” Crystal patted Mom’s forearm. “I know for a fact that he recently taught one of our church deacons how to reload ammo.”

“Well, if he’s patient enough to teach your deacon, he should be perfect for me.”

“Oh yes,” she assured Mom. “Our deacon is very demanding. A wonderful man, but demanding.”

“I’m not sure I know who that is,” Mom said artlessly.

“He keeps to himself so you probably don’t know him, Mrs. Wainwright.” Crystal arranged more pineapple slices on a plate and began to munch on them herself. “His name is Solomon and he’s a professor out at the institute. Have you heard of him?”

I just about fell over onto a plate of dried apricots, but I managed to keep my cool as I jumped into the conversation. “I taught a bookbinding class out there a long time ago and I met Solomon. He’s really something, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes.” Her sigh was close to orgasmic. “So you know how virile he is. I shouldn’t say such things about a church deacon, but I confess I’m half in love with him.”

“I remember he was very handsome,” I said, biting my tongue. “How did he and Bennie get to be friends?”

“Well, they’re both Ogunites, of course,” she said offhandedly. “But also Bennie and Stefan work in the stock- room of the Art Institute’s museum store, so they see Solomon every day.”

“That’s convenient,” I said lightly, but inside I was reeling from the revelation that Solomon was a member of the Church of the True Blood of Ogun. And he was a deacon. I knew the Ogunites weren’t particularly religious-they were more wrapped up in the worship of nature and earthly arts-but this was ridiculous. If what I suspected of Solomon was true, the man was a cold-blooded killer.

“Yes,” Crystal said, slipping another fruit slice into her mouth. “A number of our people work for the Art Institute and, of course, some of us take classes there.”

“That must be nice for you,” I said. “I remember there was a real sense of community at the institute.”

“I love taking jewelry classes there and I’ve sold a lot of my fruit jewelry to the other students.” Crystal smiled softly as her cheeks turned rosy. “And it doesn’t hurt that I get to see Solomon every day.”

I said with some surprise, “You really like him.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to us,” Mom said with a wink. Sobering, she asked, “Is he a nice man, Crystal? Is he good enough for you?”

Crystal wiggled her finger at us. “Come over here and look at this.”

Mom and I followed her like two puppies.

“This is the Monarch 5000.” She ran her hand across the top of a boxy white plastic dehydrator. “It’s the very same model that Solomon bought last week. The top of the line. Deluxe. It’s got a timer and temperature gauge for all your food groups, and it comes in five- or nine-shelf models.”

“Nine shelves,” Mom said. “That’s impressive.”

“Isn’t it? Solomon took the nine-shelf unit.”

Mom nodded. “Of course he did.”

“It works with meat and fish, and makes the best squirrel jerky you’ve ever tasted in less than six hours. Nobody can touch that time. Solomon knew it and grabbed it. He’s smart, he’s strong, and he has the best taste in everything.”

Mom gave a thumbs-up. “He knows his dehydrators. That’s for sure.”

“He does indeed,” Crystal said, then flashed a smug smile. “I also sold him the newest water-filtration pen that all the Ogunites are excited about. My point is, Solomon will survive wherever he goes. And what woman doesn’t find that an attractive quality in a man?”

“The survivalist instinct,” Mom said, pondering the words. “It certainly speaks to our most basic needs as women.”

Cave women, I thought, but didn’t say it aloud.

“I know!” Crystal beamed. “I’m so proud to be a small contributor to his evolution. He’s a budding naturalist and, oh, such a deep thinker.”

“Well, he is a full professor,” I said.

“Exactly.” She sighed. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that Solomon’s taken Bennie and Stefan under his wing. I know he only befriended them to learn more survivalist skills, but that’s a good sign, isn’t it? Bennie’s taught him how to shoot and reload, and last week, Stefan showed him how to skin a squirrel.”

“How thrilling,” Mom said.

“Isn’t it?” Crystal nodded excitedly. “But, personally, I think the boys will learn so much more from having a man like Solomon around as a role model than he’ll ever learn from them.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” I said sincerely. I would warn her to stay away from Solomon later, but right now I wanted to keep her talking.

She leaned closer so she wouldn’t be overheard. “It’s sad, though, because Bennie and Stefan are so immature.” She laughed. “Seriously, I could live off the land better than those two knuckleheads ever could. And I can say that because they’re my brothers.”

“They are?” I didn’t remember them all being related.

“Oh, I mean they’re my church brothers. I’ve known them forever and, you know, they’re still boys.” She laughed and waved her hands philosophically. “They can be so juvenile.”

“I have brothers so I know what you mean,” I said, chuckling in camaraderie.

“But Solomon is a man.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

Mom stepped forward eagerly. “I simply must have another taste of that pineapple.”

“You know, Crystal,” I said, rushing to change the subject, “it’s been a long time since I taught at the institute, but I distinctly remember one woman who taught there. What was her name?” I thought for a few seconds. “Angela? Angelina?”

“Angelica.” Crystal nearly spat the word.

“That’s her,” I whispered triumphantly. “She was a piece of work.”

“I know it’s wrong, but I really hate her,” Crystal said in an undertone. “She’s horrible. Nasty. Brooklyn, I swear