“I do.”

“That’s just bizarre. Sorry.” Oops, there I was, being rude again. “The police are pretty good at this, you know.”

“Ah, but in many of these situations, it is my understanding that you have led them to several clues they might not have otherwise uncovered.” He took a sip of his tea and gave me one of his genial smiles.

Another quirk of Guru Bob’s was that he never used contractions. Sometimes I couldn’t help but imitate him, but I tried to avoid it. Guru Bob sounded fine talking that way, but I sounded deranged.

I pursed my lips in frustration as I tried to make sense of his words. In a flash, I remembered an old Agatha Christie story in which Miss Marple received a request that came from beyond the grave. A man she’d known who had recently died had sent her a card asking her to investigate the suspicious death of his son’s fiancée, for which his son had been imprisoned.

“Nemesis,” Guru Bob murmured.

I blinked. “What? What did you say?”

“Nemesis.” He smiled. “An Agatha Christie novel. Do you know it?”

“Of course I know it,” I cried, waving my hands. Then I sat back and frowned at him. “Why did you say that? I mean, sorry, but that was weird.” I took a calming breath and let it out. “Anyway, yes, I know the story of Nemesis. I was just now thinking about it.”

“Ah, well.” He smiled innocently. “That is a coincidence. Is it not?”

Still frowning, I stared at him, watching him for signs of more trickery, but he just continued to gaze at me with a gentle smile. Okay, this was a staring contest I couldn’t win, so I changed the subject. “Robson, do you remember Max Adams?”

His smile faded. “Yes, of course, gracious. Why do you ask?”

I gave him the shortened version of what had happened yesterday with the Beauty and the Beast and Joseph Taylor’s death and my flat tire and the papermaker’s knives with Max’s initials carved into the handles.

He seemed to grow more and more uneasy as I spoke, but who wouldn’t after hearing the news of Joe’s murder? And the mention of Max’s knives must have disturbed him, too.

“Stop.” He held up his hand and interrupted me in midsentence. “Please, gracious. Wait a moment.”

I was kind of shocked. I’d never seen him do that before. “Okay.”

He stood, agitated and distracted now. Very un–Guru Bob–like. “I must go inside and call Gabriel.”

Gabriel? Why did he have to call Gabriel? Did somebody need saving? Or shooting? I’d first met the dashing, mysterious Gabriel when he saved my life in a noodle restaurant on Fillmore Street. I still wasn’t sure whether he was a hero or a thief or both, but he was a good friend.

Guru Bob continued. “I will need to speak with Derek, as well. Please do not go anywhere, gracious. It is important that we discuss this matter further.”

“Um, sure.”

He dashed off. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him move so fast.

“You are all sworn to secrecy,” Guru Bob said sternly forty-five minutes later, when we’d regrouped in Mom’s living room. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, of course,” Derek said, sitting comfortably on the sofa beside me.

“You’re upset, Robson,” Mom said. “What happened?”

He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. After a moment, serenity returned to his features. “I apologize for my brusqueness. Brooklyn gave me some distressing news a few minutes ago and I am afraid I reacted badly.”

“I’m so sorry!” I said, clamping my hands over my mouth. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No, gracious. It is not your fault. You will understand my reaction in a moment.”

The front door slammed and Dad came rushing into the room. “I got here as soon as I could. What’s going on?”

Guru Bob held up his hand, and Dad calmed immediately. Mom poured another cup of tea and handed it to Dad. He sat in one of the upholstered corner chairs, still catching his breath.

This was getting odder by the minute. Derek took hold of my hand in apparent agreement.

“Rebecca, James,” Guru Bob said, speaking to my parents. “You remember Max Adams and the circumstances surrounding his death.”

“Oh yes. Poor Max,” Mom whispered. “I wish you’d known him.” Her eyes softened as she gazed across at Derek, then over at Gabriel, who stood leaning against the mantel over the fireplace, looking fit and handsome in a black leather jacket and well-worn jeans. He’d been injured badly a month ago and had been recuperating in Dharma while he weighed his options and planned his next move.

Frankly, I’d been worried about Gabriel for a while now. What would he do next? Where would he go from here? I didn’t have time to think about that right now, but I would ask him later.

“Max grew up in Dharma,” Mom explained. “He was great friends with Austin and the other kids, and after high school he went on to become a talented artist and papermaker. Eventually he met a lovely woman and they got engaged. A month after their engagement party, he was killed in a car accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek said to Mom. “It must’ve been difficult for you all.”

“It was,” Mom said, sitting on the arm of Dad’s chair.

“Yes, it was, indeed,” Guru Bob said, “but now Brooklyn has introduced a new wrinkle to the saga.” He was standing now, and began strolling slowly around the room as he related an abbreviated version of the story I’d told him a few minutes earlier.

“Oh, Brooklyn, sweetie,” Mom said. “I’m so sorry about Mr. Taylor. I wish we could’ve been there for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Dad shook his head. “Honey, you should’ve called us.”

“Thanks, Dad. Derek was close by, so he came over.” Staring at our joined hands, I murmured to no one in particular, “There was a lot of blood.”

Derek squeezed my hand.

Gabriel had been watching us, but now he folded his arms across his chest and lifted his chin toward Guru Bob. “What’s this all about, Robson? Has someone else died?”

“No.” Guru Bob looked around the room, meeting each person’s gaze in order. “But I have kept something from you for far too long. The time has come to reveal the truth.”

This really was beginning to feel like an Agatha Christie novel. But Robson’s eyes were grave as he turned them on me, and I gripped Derek’s hand a little tighter.

“Max Adams is very much alive.”

Chapter 7

“What?” I might have shrieked the word, but nobody would have blamed me right at that moment. “That’s impossible! Max has been dead for three years.”

“No, gracious, he has not,” Guru Bob demurred.

“You’re wrong.” I jumped up from the couch and looked around the room in desperation.

“Robson’s never wrong, sweetie,” Mom said, but she was just as shocked as I was.

I stared at her for a moment. “Okay, maybe not. But this can’t be true.”

“I don’t understand,” Mom said. “Are you sure, Robson?”

“You said he’s never wrong,” I protested.

She blinked. “I know, but we all went to his funeral. There must be a mistake. Robson?”

“There is no mistake, Rebecca,” Guru Bob said, kindly ignoring my outburst. “I saw Max with my own eyes the day after his death was declared. I arranged for his safe departure. Believe me, he is very much alive and living in a safe place under an assumed name.”

Now I knew what people meant when they said it felt like the floor had opened up beneath them. Max? Alive? Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he let all of us think he was dead? I sobbed through his funeral! I’d missed him for so long after that. I still missed him.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Guru Bob glanced around the room. He seemed unsure of himself. And that was just one more oddity in a day filled with them. Guru Bob had never been unsure of anything as long as I’d known him.

I happened to catch Dad giving a minuscule nod to Guru Bob.

“Wait!” I said, wondering whether my eyes could possibly bulge out of my head more than they already had. “Dad? You knew about this?”