After the officers and George left, Crane looked at me. “Your instincts were correct.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I’m not very happy to be right.”

  “No, I imagine not. But it was good that we got here when we did.”

  “Yes, and thank you for coming along. You didn’t have to.”

  “I wanted to make sure you were both safe.” He glanced around, looked from me to Derek. “What else can I do?”

  “It appears everything’s in order,” Derek said. “Once again, the intruder didn’t make it into the house.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll take off, then.”

  “We’d like to return the invitation to dinner,” Derek said. “Maybe sometime this week?”

  “I would enjoy that. Let’s talk in the morning.”

  “And there’s a party next weekend,” I reminded him.

  He beamed. “For which I’m truly grateful and looking forward to it.” He turned and bowed slightly. “Inspector Lee. An honor to meet you.” Without waiting for a response, he walked out of the house.

  She looked flustered and unsure of herself for the first time since I’d met her. Again, I didn’t dare say what I was thinking, which was He likes you, he likes you!

  I could be so juvenile sometimes.

  “I know it’s too late now,” Inspector Lee said, “but first thing tomorrow I’ll have Vogel and Love knock on doors to see if anyone got a look at George’s attacker.”

  “Thank you for being here, Inspector,” Derek said. “I’m sorry this was a somewhat wasted trip.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t wasted,” she murmured cryptically.

  She had to be referring to us introducing her to Crane. I started to smile and instantly she jabbed her finger in my direction. “Wipe that smile off your face.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Don’t make me hurt you, Wainwright.” Her composure regained, she nodded toward Derek. “Have a good evening, Commander.” And with that, she took off.

  “What was that all about?” Derek asked.

  I grinned. “Didn’t you see the looks that were passing between Inspector Lee and Crane? I think they might be interested in each other.”

  He smiled tolerantly. “Ah. No wonder she told you to mind your own business.”

  “She didn’t exactly say that,” I demurred.

  “But I am saying it, darling.” He slid his arm around my shoulder and we walked to the bedroom. “Crane will only be in town for another week or so and Inspector Lee doesn’t seem the type to be interested in a one- or two-night stand.”

  “I don’t see why not,” I said, grinning. “But you know your friend Crane better than I know Inspector Lee.”

  “I’m not saying Crane wouldn’t be interested,” he said, chuckling. “I’m just saying it might not be fair to Inspector Lee.”

  “All right,” I said with a sigh. “I won’t try to be a matchmaker. But I’ll make a deal with you. If one of them asks one of us about the other, we can revisit this conversation. And if that doesn’t happen, I’ll consider the subject dropped.”

  At that moment, someone began yelling outside the front door, startling me. Someone else laughed and I relaxed. It sounded like some of our neighbors were having a party in the hall.

  Given all the excitement we’d been through tonight, Derek wasn’t taking any chances. He walked to the front door and swung it open.

  “It’s just us,” Mom said jovially as she strolled into the house. Then she noticed our expressions. “What’s wrong? Did we wake you? It’s still pretty early, isn’t it?”

  “You didn’t wake us,” Derek assured her. “We just got home a little while ago ourselves and were just about to go to bed.”

  Dad walked in a few seconds later with his arm tucked around a complete stranger.

  I watched Derek’s eyes widen and I was pretty sure mine did the same.

  The guy hanging on to Dad looked downright homeless, with a full gray beard that was stringy in places and badly matted in others. He wore an old black trench coat over filthy, baggy clothing that had long ago passed its expiration date for washing.

  Maybe this was his Grateful Dead costume? But no, I didn’t think so.

  “This is Goose,” Mom explained. “He’s one of our dearest old Deadhead friends and he’s fallen on some hard times. He’s going to spend the night in our room and we’ll take him to a shelter in the morning. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Goose blinked and stared at us, then lifted his hand and flashed us the peace sign. “Hey, man. Cool digs.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  He gazed around the room. “Whoa. You guys must be rich, right?”

  Mom’s smile was tentative as she looked from me to Derek and back to me. “It’ll be okay.”

  I suddenly felt like the parent in this picture.

  “I’ll watch out for Goose,” Dad murmured to Derek.

  Derek’s smile was tight. “Thanks, Jim.” He glanced down at me and I telepathically reminded him that I’d warned him my parents were crazy. Good-hearted but crazy.

  “Sleep well, everybody,” Mom said.

  “You, too,” I said, and we watched as she and Dad led Goose toward their rooms down the hall.

  Derek and I must have been in a state of shock, because we said very little as we got ready for bed, then went out to the kitchen for two glasses of water.

  A minute later, Mom joined us. “I’ve got Goose all settled. He didn’t want to sleep in the second bedroom, so he’s sleeping on the floor in our room.”

  “Maybe that’s more comfortable for him.”

  “I hope we didn’t upset you,” she said. “We just didn’t feel right leaving him there on the cold sidewalk when what he needs is a safe place to sleep and maybe a shower.”

  “You’re a good person, Mom.” While I, on the other hand, was fighting off this feeling of being appalled. I would never admit that to my kindhearted mother, but I had been completely stunned when they walked into our house with their scruffy friend.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, “we’ve been given so much. Once in a while, we need to give back.”

  It was so like my parents to embody that philosophy, and it made me feel downright mean and uncharitable for reacting with shock earlier. “You’re right, Mom, and I appreciate you reminding me of that.” I reached into the freezer for a few ice cubes. “I don’t remember you ever talking about anyone named Goose.”

  “You don’t? But he was one of our closest buddies from the good old days.”

  “What’s his last name?” I asked, thinking maybe I’d remember him that way.

  She pursed her lips in thought. “You know, I can’t quite recall. The good old days are a little foggy sometimes.”

  Derek smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I hope you sleep well, Rebecca.”

  “We’ll see you in the morning,” I said.

  “Good night,” she said. “Thanks for understanding.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you more.”

  I chuckled and we headed for the bedroom. I’d always known my parents were good-hearted, but they’d proven it in spades tonight. For that reason, I hated myself for even once thinking that Benjamin Franklin’s old saying about guests and fish might be true after all.

  • • •

  The next morning we were all up bright and early—except for Goose.

  “He’s still asleep,” Mom said as she poured coffee for herself and Dad. “I’ve never seen anyone sleep so soundly. I guess he was able to relax for once.”

  “It’s got to be so stressful sleeping on the streets,” I said.

  “It’s no kind of life,” Dad agreed as he doused his coffee with a teaspoon of raw sugar. “Sadly, we know an alarming number of people who’ve ended up there.”

  “Some of our generation seemed to slip through a wormhole years ago,” Mom said. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend Goose,” I said, feeling helpless.

  “We’ll do what we can for him,” Mom said, patting my hand. “So, what’re you kids doing for breakfast?”

  “Derek and I were going to walk down to the South Park Bistro. I’ve been craving their Belgian waffles.”

  “I’d love to take a walk this morning,” she said, and glanced at Dad. “Do we dare leave Goose alone for a few minutes?”

  “He’ll be asleep for another hour or two,” Dad predicted. “Maybe longer, poor guy.”

  Mom could tell we were reluctant, so she said, “You two go ahead and we’ll get something later.”

  Derek gritted his teeth for a quick moment, then said, “If you don’t think it’ll be a problem to leave him alone for a little while, we can all go together.”

  I was so proud of him for having faith in my parents’ judgment, although I could tell it cost him. It was costing me, too, but I was trying to hold my tongue.

  “I completely understand if you’d rather not leave him alone,” Mom said. “Jim and I will stay home.”

  “Maybe if we ordered everything to go and brought it home,” I said.

  “That’s it,” Dad said. “We’ll walk there with you and get our breakfast to go. That way we won’t be gone more than half an hour. Goose can’t get into much trouble in that amount of time.”

  “Would that be okay?” Mom asked. “I really just wanted to take a walk anyway.”

  Derek nodded. “Then it’s settled. I just have to make a quick phone call and we can go.”

  I assumed Derek was calling to check on George and I used the time to brush my hair and dab on some lip gloss. We all donned heavy jackets because the morning air was so cold lately.

  We walked three blocks to Third Street and turned left. Two short blocks later, we reached the tiny enclave of South Park, a block-long green park and playground surrounded by small offices, apartments, a few shops, a coffeehouse, and several restaurants, one of which was the Bistro, an adorable haven for wonderful café au lait and fabulous Belgian waffles.

  Unfortunately, the line outside the Bistro was longer than we’d anticipated.

  “Darn,” I said, turning to Derek. “I’m glad we’re getting it to go.”

  After twenty minutes we received our piping-hot orders of waffles to go along with separate containers of fluffy butter and golden syrup, plus sides of bacon. Mom had thoughtfully ordered breakfast for Goose, too, so we each grabbed a bag to carry and headed for home.

  “This will be more fun anyway,” Mom said, glancing at a charming shop window filled with kitchenware and linens.

  I linked my arm with hers. “I think so, too.”

  “Gosh, I miss the city sometimes,” she said, tightening her grip on my arm.

  I chuckled. “Is that why you’re shivering?”

  “The chill is part of the ambience.”

  “Good point.” In San Francisco, the weather was like a key character in a movie. The famous fog that rolled in almost every afternoon, blanketing the city, actually had a name. San Franciscans called it Karl. I’d heard a rumor that Karl the Fog had its own Twitter account.

  I could hear the murmurs of Dad and Derek chatting a few yards ahead of us.

  “Oh, I just remembered,” Mom said. “You have that wonderful machine that makes café lattes, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I’ll make one for you.”

  “I would love that.”

  “What time do you leave for the wedding?” I asked.

  “Two o’clock. We’ll have breakfast and then get dressed and ready to go. I’ll wake up Goose as soon as we get back and encourage him to take a shower. It might boost his spirits a little.”

  “A shower always makes me feel better.”

  Chuckling, she patted my arm. “Me, too.”

  “I would offer to wash his clothes, but I think they might fall apart.”

  “True. And he might not be willing to trust you with them anyway.”

  “I understand.” I rested my head against my mom’s. “Poor Goose. Did you talk to him last night? Does he remember much of the old days with the Grateful Dead?”

  She sighed. “He remembers the music, of course, and dancing. He says he remembers me and Dad, but he couldn’t remember any of our other friends.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “It’s okay,” she said grimly. “We’ll do what we can for him. And on the way to the wedding, we’ll stop at one of the shelters in the Tenderloin and see if we can get him a bed for the night.”

  “I hope you can do it. I read in the paper a while ago that they’ve started requiring some kind of medical certificate proving he doesn’t have tuberculosis before they’ll let him stay the night.”

  “Oh dear. I wonder if he has one. Maybe we should bring him home to Dharma with us. Gary Jenkins has taken in a few homeless folks over the years, ones who were willing to stay sober and help around the farm. It’s a much healthier environment.”

  “You’ll have to ask Goose how he feels about that. Some people have a hard time stepping out of their comfort zone, even when that zone is as gruesome as living on the streets.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, sweetie. It’s sad, isn’t it?”

  The four of us traipsed through the lobby and piled into the freight elevator.

  “It smells so good in here,” I said, gladly changing the subject.

  Mom sniffed the air. “I think it’s the bacon.”

  “And the syrup,” I added.

  Derek agreed. “My mouth is watering.”

  Dad was regaling us with the latest winery gossip as the elevator shuddered to a stop and we walked down the hall to our door.

  “Stop,” Derek ordered suddenly. “Jim, step back. Brooklyn, please go see if Alex is home.”

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” But then I saw that the door was opened an inch and I felt sick to my stomach. I ran down the hall and knocked loudly on Alex’s door. When she answered I said, “Can you come over, quick?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  I raced back to our apartment in time to see Derek pushing the door open. Mom and Dad remained in the hall, but I followed cautiously inside, wondering if Goose had left the door open. Was he still here? Did he steal everything in sight and run away? If so, he was a lot more devious and agile than any of us had given him credit for.

  But everything seemed to be in perfect order. So what had happened here? Who had left our front door open?

  Derek’s voice was deadly calm. “Brooklyn, please go out to the hall and call Inspector Lee, will you?”

  “Why? What happened?” I glanced around him and got a look at the hall where Goose lay spread-eagled on the hardwood floor. At least it looked like the man named Goose who’d come home with Mom and Dad last night. Except . . . he was clean. His hair was shiny and his beard was gone. Shaved off. He looked almost handsome and that would’ve been wonderful but for the fact that he was sprawled across our hallway floor, his back pressed up against the door to my closet safe. He wore a plush burgundy bathrobe that I recognized as Derek’s. It had fallen open to reveal blood seeping from a gaping wound in his gut.

  Now I had a whole new reason to feel queasy. There was blood. And Goose was dead.

  Chapter Seven

  Derek knelt down and checked Goose’s neck for a pulse. Glancing up at Mom, he shook his head and confirmed my worst fears. “I’m sorry, Rebecca. He’s dead.”

  “But he shaved,” I muttered, then regretted it immediately, because the fact that Goose had shaved was possibly the least important aspect of the dreadful scene before us. No one seemed to notice my absurd comment, though, as they all stared at the body. Derek had taken it upon himself to get his phone out of his pocket and call the police. Dad had his arms wrapped around Mom. Her face was buried in his sweater, and her shoulders were shaking in grief.

  I felt my own eyes burning with tears at the sight of Mom’s pain. Once again, death had come into our home. It was going to sound completely self-centered of me, but I actually considered it good news that I hadn’t been the one who found Goose’s body.

  Officially, that would be Derek, who didn’t seem at all flustered by the discovery. But since I was still close enough to witness the crimson blood streaming from Goose’s gut, did it matter? I might as well have been the one who had stumbled over the poor guy.

  Blood. To this day, I just couldn’t handle it.

  It dawned on me that the reason Derek had asked me to go out to the hall and make the phone call was that there was so much blood. I just never seemed to handle it well, and this time was no exception.

  Feeling like an idiot once more, I had to turn and walk away before I passed out from the image of all that dark red liquid oozing from Goose’s stomach onto our floor.

  I took the opportunity to pace the perimeter of the living room, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself as I made a cursory search of the space. I checked my workshop, too, but didn’t find anything out of place. I saw my sandals on the floor under the desk—and gasped. “Charlie! Where are you—”

  I started to dash out of my workshop when I heard a plaintive mewing from right under the desk. I crouched down and peered into the small dark space. “Are you in there, sweetie?”

  “Mew.”

  “Aw, come here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

  She crept closer and I pulled her into my arms. “Poor thing.”

  I wasn’t about to let her go while Goose’s body lay on the floor. I wanted more than anything to check my closet safe and make sure my books were still inside and secure, but I knew we couldn’t move Goose’s body until the police arrived.

  I circled back around to where Mom and Dad were consoling each other. I had to avoid looking down at the poor man, knowing I was still light-headed from seeing our hapless murder victim’s blood oozing from his wounds.