Ugh. There went my roiling stomach again. I silently argued that maybe it was a good thing I still reacted this way at the sight of blood. After all, I hadn’t turned completely cynical about murder. And I also hadn’t fainted this time. So three cheers for me.

  Derek finished his phone call and slipped the phone into his pocket. “Inspector Lee and Inspector Jaglow will be here shortly.”

  “Good,” Dad murmured.

  Alex knocked briefly and walked in. “Everyone okay over here?”

  “Not everyone,” Mom said. “Our friend Goose was attacked while we were out taking a walk.”

  Alex’s eyes widened. She walked over to take a look at the body, then scowled as her hands curled into fists.

  “Stop,” I said, before she could speak. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

  “But—” She let out a breath. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t hear a thing.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Derek said sternly.

  She stared down at Goose. “Who is it?”

  “An old friend of ours,” Dad said.

  She reached for Dad’s arm and then Mom’s and gave them each a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” Mom said. And the tears started to fall again.

  It was alarming to see my mom so devastated and I was in danger of tearing up myself. I slipped my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go sit down, Mom.”

  “All right.”

  “That’s okay, honey,” Dad said, lightly squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll sit with her.” He led Mom over to the living room couch.

  “I can stick around if you’d like,” Alex said.

  “You don’t have to,” I said, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. I wasn’t sure if it was a nervous reaction or a way to get my own blood moving. “We’re just waiting for the police to show up.”

  Derek agreed, adding, “We might give you a call later if something comes up.”

  “Okay.”

  But she still looked distraught, so Derek added, “You’re not to feel bad. This is our fault for leaving him here alone.”

  “Where were you?” she asked.

  “We walked down to South Park and got breakfast to go,” I said. “We were barely gone half an hour.”

  Alex shook her head in disgust. “If it’s the same woman who tried to break in the other night, she works fast.”

  “Yes, she does,” Derek said through clenched teeth. “I have a feeling she’s been watching the house.”

  “Probably. How else would she know the right time to break in?”

  I didn’t like the look of fury and frustration on Derek’s face. It was a dangerous combination for a man with his skills and background. He would be even more determined than before to get to the bottom of this. Not just for poor Goose and what his death had done to my parents, but because our home had been violated.

  I knew just how he felt.

  Alex left a few minutes later after promising to come back that afternoon.

  Derek and I joined my parents in the living room.

  “I’m fine,” Mom insisted, lifting her chin and blinking like a sun-blind woman in a futile attempt to stem the tide. “I never cry.”

  “She cries at pet food commercials,” Dad said.

  We all had a good laugh and Mom smacked Dad’s knee.

  “Oh my God,” I said suddenly.

  “What is it?” Mom asked in alarm.

  “I just remembered, we never ate our waffles.”

  “You’re trying to make me cry again,” Mom wailed.

  It might’ve seemed wrong to an outsider, but it lightened our hearts to hustle off to the kitchen to heat up the waffles and bacon.

  As we ate in silence I had time to ponder what had happened here today. I was raised to believe that life was a circle. Death and birth and everything in between were simply what happened during our cycle on earth. But did that mean we should be comfortable with sudden death? It saddened me to think it might be true. We weren’t being blasé about it, I insisted to myself, but I wondered if we were becoming inured to the reality of it. It bothered me to think that maybe we were, and I was determined to fight the feeling.

  I left the table to make another pot of coffee and came back to finish my meal. “These are the best waffles in the world.”

  “Goose would’ve enjoyed them,” Mom said, then glanced around at our looks of alarm. “Don’t worry. I won’t start crying.”

  “Good,” I muttered. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, nobody cries alone when I’m in the room.”

  Dad glanced toward the back hall, where Goose’s body remained. Looking at the rest of us, he asked, “Where did Goose get that bathrobe?”

  Derek gritted his teeth. “I believe it’s mine.”

  I gave him an apologetic look. “I believe you’re right. Never mind. We’ll get you a new one. Something Turkish and elegant.”

  “Oh no,” Mom moaned. “I’m so sorry, Derek.”

  “Please, Rebecca.” Derek reached for her hand. “Don’t worry about it for a single moment. It was insensitive of me to blurt that out.”

  Dad leaned closer to Mom and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, honey. It’ll be all right.”

  “But Goose is dead and Derek’s bathrobe is ruined and we never should’ve—”

  “Rebecca, please,” Derek quickly intervened. “If wearing my bathrobe gave your friend Goose a few moments of pleasure, I’m perfectly happy that he took it.”

  She sniffled. “Oh, that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “And it’s the absolute truth,” Derek insisted. “I don’t want you to spend another second worrying about it. The robe was quite old. I was going to buy a new one soon.”

  “See that, Becky?” Dad said, stroking Mom’s hair. “It’s going to be all right.” Looking at Derek, he added, “She’s got such a tender heart.”

  I slid my barstool closer to Derek and squeezed his arm lightly. The truth was, the bathrobe was brand-new, a Christmas gift from his parents in England. But it was easily replaced, unlike Goose’s life.

  We spent the rest of the meal speculating on what had happened to Goose. As near as I could figure, as soon as we’d all left for the Bistro, Goose must’ve gone wandering around the house. Derek’s bathrobe had been hanging on a hook in our bathroom, so Goose had definitely given himself a thorough tour of our place. He took a quick shower, shaved his beard, and threw on Derek’s bathrobe. At that point, he probably walked into the living room and surprised the intruder.

  So in a way, Goose was a hero. I didn’t know if the woman was after my books and I couldn’t yet tell if anything was missing from the closet safe, but aside from that, nothing had been taken from our apartment. I figured Goose must have surprised the woman and she had fled the scene before she could accomplish her main goal of stealing one of my books.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that stealing a book was her ultimate goal. I just didn’t know which book she was after. And unfortunately, with Goose’s body blocking the closet door that shielded my book safe, I wouldn’t know the answer until the police came and moved him.

  Had she been trying to get into the closet when Goose surprised her? The answer had to be yes. Why else would Goose be lying dead directly in front of the closet door?

  Had she heard the elevator rising? Was that why she ran out? Given the length of time we were gone from the house, she couldn’t have been here more than a few minutes.

  “I wish the police would hurry,” I muttered.

  As if I’d conjured them, there was a knock on the door.

  “I’ll let them in,” Derek said.

  Mom and I hastened to clear the table of breakfast plates, and a moment later, Inspectors Lee and Jaglow followed Derek inside.

  Both of them stared at the body of Goose for a long moment.

  “That’s a nice bathrobe,” Inspector Jaglow said. “Friend of yours, I assume?”

  “No,” Derek said bluntly. “He’s an old friend of Brooklyn’s parents. My understanding is that he’s been living on the streets for quite a few years. They ran into him last night and brought him here in hopes that he would enjoy a night of untroubled sleep.”

  Jaglow gazed at my parents. “That was nice of you.”

  “I’m not sure he would thank us now,” Dad said grimly.

  Inspector Lee walked directly over to the body and began taking photographs with her telephone, capturing Goose’s image from a number of different angles. I’d never seen her be so quiet and wondered if something was bothering her.

  “Hey, Nate, help me move him away from the door so he’s lying down flat,” she said to her partner, finally speaking for the first time.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “She’s having man trouble,” Nate Jaglow said, bending down to shift Goose’s body.

  “Nate, shush,” she said mildly, clearly indicating she wasn’t angry with him for speaking out of turn.

  I didn’t dare ask which man was giving her trouble, but I glanced at Derek meaningfully. He shrugged as if to say he didn’t have a clue as to whether Crane had contacted her or not.

  Now I had to wonder if maybe Inspector Lee had a boyfriend. I’d never bothered to ask, since we weren’t intimate friends. But I was dying to know.

  “Tell me more about this guy,” Lee said, still looking at Goose.

  “We knew him years ago,” Mom said. “Back in the days when we were following the Grateful Dead.”

  “Did you keep in touch?”

  Dad said, “No. Once we moved to Dharma, we lost touch with a number of our old Deadhead friends.”

  Inspector Jaglow was busy writing down the information in his notepad. “And what’s his name?”

  “We always called him Goose.”

  “So you don’t know his real name?”

  “Sorry.”

  “We’ll fingerprint him and try to track down his next of kin.”

  “That would be lovely of you,” Mom murmured.

  “Do you know where he grew up?” Jaglow asked. “Where he went to school?”

  “No idea.” Dad shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “Anything you can tell us about him that might help us put some pieces together?”

  “He has a dragon tattoo on his butt cheeks,” Mom said.

  Lee’s head jerked up. “Yeah?”

  “Wow, Mom,” I said. “Just how well did you know Goose?”

  “Becky?” was all Dad could say.

  “Oh, Jim. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all the times we used to go skinny-dipping.”

  “Honey, I’ve never forgotten our skinny-dipping days.”

  “Then how could you miss seeing a full-blown winged dragon tattoo spread across a man’s buttocks?”

  “Good question,” Lee said, trying to contain a smirk.

  Derek didn’t bother to hold back. He just started laughing.

  Dad glanced at the other men in the room, then back at his wife. “This may come as a shock, but I rarely spend time checking out other guys and their buttocks.”

  “I suppose I should be happy about that,” Mom conceded.

  “I’d say so,” Inspector Lee said. Then she flashed her partner a look of resignation. “Looks like we’d better turn him over and check out this tattoo.”

  “Let’s do it.” Jaglow positioned himself by Goose’s head.

  “Would you like some help?” Derek asked.

  “I’d appreciate it,” Lee said. “Thanks, Commander.” She moved aside so that Derek could grab Goose’s feet while Nate took hold of his head. With as much care as possible, they shifted Goose over until he lay in a prone position with his face pressed against the hardwood floor. As a result of moving him, the bathrobe flapped open and bunched up, leaving the dead man sadly exposed and the rest of us in complete shock.

  “It’s not him,” Mom whispered.

  • • •

  Ten minutes later, Mom had recovered from her shock. “How did we conclude that this man was Goose?”

  Dad shook his head, clueless.

  “It could still be Goose,” I said, offering another possibility. “Tattoos can be removed.”

  “I looked at it pretty closely,” Lee said, then quickly amended the statement. “I mean, as closely as I ever want to get to a homeless guy’s butt. Anyway, there’s no way he ever had a tattoo there. Even the best tattoo removal job leaves a remnant of ink. This guy’s got nothing.”

  “So how in the world did we mistake him for Goose?” Mom wondered again.

  The two of them replayed the scene outside the Fillmore the night before. Dad finally decided that they’d simply bought in to their friend Stewart’s comment when he said, “Hey, that guy looks just like Goose, doesn’t he?”

  “How’s that for the power of suggestion?” Mom muttered gloomily. She shook her head in dismay. “This is such a fiasco. I feel so bad. You kids have put up with so much from us.”

  Derek tried to put her at ease. “We love having you here. It’s terribly unfortunate that the man was killed, but it wasn’t your fault. And I wouldn’t dream of changing your generous nature and tender heart for all the money in the world.”

  My father actually beamed at Derek and I had never loved him more.

  “And as gruesome as it sounds,” I added, “this will be a visit we’ll always remember.”

  Dad chuckled ruefully. “You can say that again.”

  “Do you still want to go to the wedding, Jim?” Mom asked.

  “Of course I do and so do you, honey. It’ll make us both feel better. And it’s the right thing to do.”

  “You’ll see so many old friends there,” I said. “After a while you’ll be able to relax and enjoy yourselves.”

  Dad said, “And a few of the wedding guests were with us last night when we thought we saw Goose, so maybe we can put our heads together and figure out how we all mistook this guy for our old friend.”

  Feeling better about the wedding, they went off to their room to get ready.

  I found an old sheet to cover the body and that was when I remembered what I’d been itching to do for the last hour.

  “I’m going to check my safe,” I announced to the cops.

  Inspector Jaglow came over and rearranged the sheet cover. “Let’s move this sheet closer to the closet door so in case there’re any footprints to be found, you won’t disturb them.”

  “Good thinking,” Lee said.

  The first positive sign was that the closet door was still locked. I pushed the jackets aside and knelt down to key in the combination numbers. The lock didn’t look as though it had been tampered with. Another good sign.

  After working the combination lock, I opened the door to the safe and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Pulling all eleven books out, I carried them over to the dining room table to make sure everything was as it should be. While the police did what they had to do, I spread the books out and in my detail-oriented brain, I listed the title of the book and the work I’d been commissioned to complete.

  Poor Richard’s Almanack—clean; resew cords; create storage box; write up an appraisal.

  Dracula—clean soiled boards; regild spine; remove foxing if possible; talk to Genevieve regarding bleach.

  One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest—repair torn book jacket.

  The Grapes of Wrath—repair and resew text block; new cover (ask Genevieve if she would prefer leather, with original color illustration set into leather and beveled); regild title and flourishes on spine; regild front cover.

  The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown—replace cloth cover because of considerable fraying along the head and spine and corners; replace second free endpaper to get rid of previous owner’s unsightly signature.

  The Maltese Falcon—loose front and back hinges (already repaired).

  Lonesome Dove—another broken hinge and a fraying spine.

  The Great Gatsby—general cleaning and do something about foxing, if possible.

  Amo, Amas, Amat: A Little Book of Latin—this was a classic old schoolbook that Genevieve wanted refurbished. She said it reminded her fondly of her days in Catholic school, so she planned to keep it for herself. Both front and back endpapers were torn from the cover at the hinges so the papers would have to be replaced and sewn back into the book; a few interior tears needed repair; other minor cleanup work.

  Songbirds in Trees—the Bird-watchers Society book I’d received from Jared Mulrooney. I’d almost forgotten about the charming little Audubon book with the bluebird on the cover. I wasn’t sure what I would do to repair the damage from the wine spill, but I was fairly certain I would have to take the book apart and wash and press each page. But I might be able to get away with leaving the book intact, I thought, as long as I could effectively shield the leather cover from any liquid or solvent I might use.

  And finally, Inspector Lee’s art book for her mother—repair and reaffix torn pages; create a storage box with title plaque.

  “Everything’s safe,” I announced, glancing at Inspector Lee.

  “Thanks,” she said with a brisk nod.

  Derek gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “That’s good news, love.”

  “Yeah, glad to hear it,” Inspector Jaglow said.

  Discovering all my books safe and sound was a tremendous weight off my shoulders, despite the horrible scene that had taken place within inches of the closet door. I returned the books to the safe and locked it securely.

  Two uniformed officers arrived to get instructions for knocking on doors in the building. Inspector Jaglow moved into the main hall outside our apartment to search for any clues or footprints.

  Two crime scene techs showed up soon afterward. One of them worked out in the hall with Jaglow and the other, a muscular man in his forties, stayed inside. He spent a few minutes talking to Inspector Lee and then unpacked his fingerprint kit and began to dust the doorknobs and -jambs for prints.