Mom had advised us that when the cops were arresting you, they would tell you to assume the position. That meant you should stand facing a wall with your feet apart and both hands on the wall. The better to be frisked, she explained.

Of course, Dad always maintained that the actual position you were meant to assume was the one where you bent over and kissed your ass good-bye.

So every once in a while, for no apparent reason, one of my parents would suddenly tell us to assume the position. Being obedient children, we would.

Some of us would go with Mom’s position and stand facing the wall. But some—usually my two brothers—would go with Dad’s choice. Mom and Dad would howl with laughter and we would all make faces and roll our eyes at them. My parents were a couple of cards. No wonder we didn’t do drugs; things were zany enough around our house without the added buzz.

Mom placed three small dishes on the table, filled with rosemary, sage, and dried lotus petals to represent memory, concentration, and truth.

“Here, sweetie,” she said, handing me one of the thick sticks of sage she used to cleanse, purify, and eliminate negativity. “You light the sage.”

“Okay.” I took a deep whiff of the sage before I flicked Mom’s lighter on and held it to the top leaves. They began to smoke, then burn. I let the fire spread across the top of the stick before blowing it out. The strong aromatic smoke filled the room.

“I’m lighting the copal, too,” she said, holding another, more bristly looking herbal smudge stick. Copal was a type of tree resin with a mild pine scent that was often used in incense. Mom used it sparingly with other herbs when she needed an extra boost to attract good spirits.

Seeing the copal made me realize she was even more antsy than she was willing to admit. I guess I was, too.

I waved the sage bundle around, making sure the smoke wafted over us both, up and down and around our bodies and over our heads, while she did the same with the copal stick. We probably looked like idiots, and maybe we were, but I usually found Mom’s rituals oddly comforting.

She rested the copal stick in a small pot she’d filled with sand. As she plucked up bits of herbs and petals and sprinkled them in two circles on a piece of white cloth, she chanted,

Sage and rosemary,

Clear our misty minds.

Lotus, lead the way

To the truth that we must find.

Spirit, show yourself to me,

Shine the light that we may see.

Spirit, once this day is done,

Your knowledge and mine will be one.

Mom waved the smoldering copal stick over the herb circles and tapped a tiny bit of ash onto each of them. Then she buried the burnt end of the stick in the bowl of sand and did the same with the sage bundle.

With scissors, she carefully cut the cloth in half and gathered each of the corners together around the little piles of herbs and ash. After tying each of the bundles with a short raffia string to make two small sachets, she handed one to me.

“Hold this close and I’ll do the same. It’ll keep our minds open and our thoughts pure. That way, we’ll recognize the truth when we hear it.”

“Cool.” I slipped my sachet into the pocket of my jeans.

Mom pressed her hands together, closed her eyes, and breathed slowly in and out. After a minute, she opened her eyes and blinked at me. “The spirits believe you will succeed, Brooklyn.”

“They do?” I nodded, not quite sure of the proper response. “That’s great. Thanks, spirits.”

“The spirits say, ‘No problemo.’” She grinned. “Let’s boogie.”

As we walked down the Lane toward Warped, my sister China’s yarn and weaving shop, Mom leaned close. “Tell me more about the people we’re looking to get intel on.”

Intel? Seriously? But I relented and gave her some of the history of Solomon and Angelica, explained Max’s desperation and his reasons for staging his own death. Mom had tears in her eyes and I wondered if I’d said too much. But I figured if Max ever needed help in the future, Mom would know why and would be there for him. She was easily the most empathetic person I knew.

Mom stopped me a half block up from Warped and stared right into my eyes. “Can you honestly see either of these odd people getting in a car and following all of you to Marin, then taking out a long-range rifle, aiming at you, and pulling the trigger?”

Now that she put it like that, all black and white and out in the open, I really had to think about it. Frankly, I had a hard time picturing anyone in the world doing something so horrible. I didn’t see evil in the world like Derek or Gabriel saw it. It always caught me by surprise.

Finally I admitted, “Solomon was a creep, but I don’t see him as a murderer.”

“What about the woman?”

I sighed. “Maybe my memory of her is a little distorted because she was cruel to me, but she seems fully capable of pulling the trigger. On the other hand, around the campus she passed herself off as the artistic earth-goddess type in bare feet who loved all creatures and wouldn’t be caught dead with a gun in her hand. I didn’t buy her act for a minute, but a lot of people seemed to believe it.”

“Okay, not very helpful,” Mom said, nodding. “Let’s see what we can find out around town.” She wove her arm through mine and we continued walking. I gripped her arm, not sure why I was so nervous. We were just strolling along the lane, the same as we would do on any other day of the week. We were going to visit my sister China, then check in with my sister Savannah across the street at her new restaurant. It would be fun to see how well the restaurant was doing and find out how the critics had enjoyed their meals. After that we would stop at Anandalla, our friend Annie’s kitchen shop. Along the way, we would talk to friends, greet other people on the sidewalk, and try to find a killer. The usual.

Chapter 14

“You should talk to Savannah if you want the scoop on Angelica,” China said after we told her what we were looking for. “She would know a lot more about those people than I would.”

“Why do you think so?” I asked.

China gazed at me as if I’d lost part of my brain. “You don’t remember that Savannah took her first cooking classes at the institute before going off to study in Paris?”

“Um, I know she did, but…so what?”

China shook her head. “She used to party with that whole crowd. Don’t you remember she called Angelica a bitch with attitude?”

“She should talk,” I muttered. Savannah could be prickly when she wanted to be.

“I know, right?” China glanced quickly at Mom, who was on the other side of the shop, comparing skeins of neon purple yarn. Only God knew what she planned to knit with that.

“I heard that,” Mom said mildly. “Be nice.”

China and I exchanged glances. Had we really thought we could get away with saying anything negative about our siblings? Mom had the ears of a desert fox.

I frowned at China. “How do you remember all that stuff about Savannah and Angelica?”

“I was younger than you two so I hung on your every word.” She held up her hand instantly. “And no, I don’t do that anymore.”

“Too bad,” I said, grinning.

“Anyway, I remember everything Savannah used to say when she’d come home from the culinary school. I thought being a chef would be the most exciting thing ever. I mean, food everywhere, right? I was captivated by everything she told us about her training.”

“Huh. I just tried my best to ignore her.”

“Like we all do with London,” China whispered.

I snorted and we both whipped around to see if Mom had heard. She didn’t brook any disparaging words uttered about her youngest and most darling daughter, London. After all, our little sister led a charmed life in nearby Calistoga with her gorgeous, wealthy doctor-cum-oenologist husband and twin babies.