Chapter 5

We raced outside, jumped into the Bentley, and Derek took off like a racecar driver. At the bottom of the hill, he came to a sudden stop and swore. “With all the excitement tonight, I forgot to get Gabriel’s thoughts on the local police.”

I already had my phone in my hand. “I was about to call the police. Maybe I should call Gabriel first.”

“Yes.”

We had dealt with the local Sonoma police once before and they had been respectful, friendly, and helpful. But Dharma’s population had grown so much that it now had its own police force. It was a whole new ball game and an exciting change for our small community, but I was still nervous because Derek and I had no idea who we were going to be dealing with.

Over the last few years we had gotten to know two of the San Francisco homicide detectives pretty well. Nathan Jaglow was semi-retired now, but Inspector Janice Lee was still on the job and had become a good friend of ours. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be bad-tempered and snarky when she came onto a crime scene and saw me standing there. She was just as liable to give me grief as to sit down and have a glass of wine with us.

I hasten to add that she rarely gave Derek grief, of course. She treated him with respect and always called him Commander, his rank when he served in the British Royal Navy. But then, he was Derek Stone, security expert and international man of mystery. And there was that whole tall-dark-and-dangerous aspect of him to consider.

And what did it say about Derek and me that we both had Inspector Lee’s number on speed dial?

But Inspector Lee can’t help us now, I thought with some dismay. So I tapped Gabriel’s name in my contacts and switched the speaker on. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“It’s Brooklyn and Derek. We’re sorry to wake you.”

“Who’s dead?” he asked first thing.

It took me by surprise and I blinked at Derek.

“Um, good question,” I said with a sinking realization that we hadn’t even asked Mom who the victim was.

“Not important right now,” Derek said briskly.

“Our mothers found a dead body at the town hall,” I hurried to explain.

“Whoa.” He paused for only a moment, as if soaking it in, then said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Wait!”

“What?” he asked.

“We’re about to call the local police,” I said. “Have you dealt with them? Any advice? Is there anyone we should try to avoid or . . .”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, and hung up.

I stared at the phone, then looked at Derek. “Guess that about covers it.”

“Not yet,” Derek said. “Call your father. And I’ll call mine.”

“Oh shoot.” I winced. “You’re right. They’ll flip if we don’t let them know what happened.” I started to call Dad, then stopped. “Don’t you think Mom called him already?”

He gazed at me steadily. “No.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.” I pressed my parents’ number and waited for Dad to answer. Hearing his groggy voice, I went through my apologies, then told him where we were going and why.

His response was nearly as instantaneous as Gabriel’s. “I’ll meet you there.” And he hung up.

The police probably wouldn’t appreciate all the people who’d be showing up at the crime scene, but it couldn’t be helped. Dad would want to be there for Mom. Likewise, Derek’s father would want to support Meg.

When Derek finished the call to his father, I stared out the window and worried. I had literally been stumbling over dead bodies for years now. But this was different.

“I can hear your brain working, love,” Derek said, and reached for my hand. “What’s going on?”

“It’s this dead body, thing,” I started, then had to take a few deep breaths. “I’ll never get used to it.”

“Darling, if you were ever to get used to it, you would be miserable.”

“True.” I squeezed his hand. “It’s always a shock, and sometimes I can barely hold it together. But now that it’s happening to our mothers, I feel even worse. I’m sick and sad and frightened for them.”

“So am I, love.” He stopped at a light and leaned over to kiss me. “I’m trying to remind myself that they’re both strong women.”

He was right, of course. Mom was a total rock. She had raised six kids plus Robin. She had taken Annie under her wing, too, along with any number of strays over the years. Heck, she had nursed Gabriel back to health when someone tried to shoot his head off. She was smart, funny, talented, capable, and totally in charge. And Meg was right up there with Mom.

But hey, I considered myself strong, too. I’d faced down more than a few vicious killers and lived to talk about it. And yet, it was humbling to admit that I was liable to faint dead away—pardon the pun—at the sight of a dead body. Especially if there was blood involved. I had a thing about blood, even after all these years. One of these days I would really have to do something about it. I’d thought about hypnosis, but I wasn’t sure that would work for me.

“Yes, my mother is very strong,” I said finally. “But she’s also really sensitive. She often feels things on a different level than some of us. Like, I don’t know, some astral plane that only the true weirdos ever reach.”

Derek stifled a laugh. “True.”

“Right. So for her to have to deal with a dead body and, you know, all the vibes and spectral auras and negative sensations that go along with that, it could be a little overwhelming.”

Was I starting to sound like a wingnut? Seriously. Vibes? Spectral auras? Oh yeah, wingnut city. Because I was my mother’s daughter, after all.

I waved the words away. “Never mind.”

“I won’t discount your feelings, darling. I feel the same way. After all, my mother is right there with yours, having traveled an astral path or two as well.”

“Oh boy,” I muttered. Yes, Meg was just as much of a hippie-dippie wingnut as Mom. It was one of the reasons they had bonded together so nicely from the start. And only one of the reasons why both women were so completely loved.

“To be honest,” he added, “I find that a comfort.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re going through it together,” he said. “They’re good friends. I think they’ll bring even more strength to each other because of it.”

I lifted his hand and kissed it. “I didn’t think of that, but you’re right. Thanks.”

Still, there were a hundred different scenarios whirling around in my brain. I just had to hope that Derek really was right, that Meg and Mom were feeling more secure because they were experiencing this horrible event together.

I frowned. Actually, knowing the two of them, they might even consider it an adventure. They had probably opened a bottle of champagne by now.

Derek expertly maneuvered the car up and down the roads until we reached the Lane. Three blocks later, he turned right onto Berkeley Circle and came to a stop in front of the town hall.

“No police cars yet,” I said, glancing every which way. “And no Gabriel.”

“We beat them all here.”

“That might be a good thing.”

“It is. I want a chance to talk to my mother and yours before the police take over the scene.”

“I just hope the dead person isn’t Jacob Banyan,” I murmured.

“Honestly?” Derek wondered as we jumped out of the car. “I can think of no one more deserving. And it seems that almost everyone in town would like to see him dead.”

“I’ll admit I wouldn’t be too sad to find out that the victim is Banyan,” I explained. “But if it is him, I’m afraid Mom will be the number one suspect.”

He threw his arm across my shoulders and pulled me close. “Good point. Although, try to remember that the man doesn’t have many friends in Dharma.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said quickly. “I don’t want it to be anyone else, either.”

“Of course not.”

“But jeez, Banyan and Mom had that huge argument in front of the entire festival committee. And then there was that confrontation on the Lane just a few hours ago. There had to be a bunch of people watching that happen.”

“Plenty of witnesses,” Derek murmured.

“Exactly.” I instantly recalled the entire ugly scene. “And some of those witnesses aren’t going to keep their mouths shut, if you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

I didn’t say the name Saffron Bergeron, but we both knew who I was talking about. Even though she hadn’t been around when Banyan confronted Mom on the street, I knew Saffron would hear about it through the small-town grapevine and be perfectly happy to spread the gossip. She might even go so far as to accuse Mom of the crime.

We dashed from the car into the building.

Despite what I was wishing for, I had to prepare myself for the inevitability that the dead body in the conference room simply had to be Jacob Banyan. He was so horrible to so many people, it was a wonder he hadn’t been murdered long before this. Someone had clearly decided that his time had come. He had to be stopped.

I wouldn’t say that he deserved to die, necessarily, but Banyan had pushed and pushed until someone had pushed back, to deadly effect.

And again, I couldn’t be sorry he was dead, except for the fact that my own mother and Meg had stumbled over his body and that the police might believe that my mom was involved in his death.

I shivered once more at that dreary thought and had to rub my arms.

“Are you cold?”

“No, just freaking out a little.”

“I don’t blame you.” Derek stroked my back as we moved quickly across the wide main hall of the building. He grabbed my hand. “Let’s get in there and see what we can do.”

We ran to the hallway and saw the door of the festival-committee conference room wide open. Other doors were open, as well, and I wondered where Mom and Meg were waiting.

“Oh God.” Something else I didn’t want to think about. “They wouldn’t still be waiting inside the same room as the body, would they?”

“They would’ve moved to another room,” Derek said, sounding sure of himself.

“I hope you’re right.”

“Mother,” Derek shouted. “Rebecca. Where are you?”

“Mom? Meg?” I called.

“Here,” my mom cried. I spun around to see her run out of another room farther down the hall. She dashed toward us and grabbed me in a tight hug.

“Are you all right?” I asked, leaning back to take a good look at her. She looked . . . hmm. Excited? No, that would be weird. Maybe overstimulated was a better way to say it. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were almost twinkling. Was she pretending to be okay for my sake?

“We’re fine,” she insisted, but she was breathless. “Really, we’re good. Meg and me, I mean. Super good. Holy moly, Brooklyn. This is crazy. Insane. Can you believe it?”

She was blathering, I realized. She must’ve been beside herself with fear and had worked herself into a near panic.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Absolutely, sweetie.”

This was not the reaction I’d expected. Yes, Mom was strong, but finding a dead body wasn’t an easy thing, as I knew all too well. I’d thought that I would have to console her, and here she was looking as if she’d scored front row seats to a Grateful Dead concert.

She smiled to reassure me, but how could I trust anything she was saying? She had to be in shock.

Meg had followed Mom up the hall and Derek wrapped his arms around her. She patted his back as if she were the one soothing him. “We’re quite fine, dear. No need to worry.”

I noted that Meg’s cheeks were flushed and her face looked a bit clammy. Oh God. Did Meg have high blood pressure? I hoped she hadn’t passed out.

“Good heavens,” she said, pressing her hands to her chest. “I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?” I asked.

“Well, about finding a dead body. It’s so . . .” Meg scratched her head, clearly searching for words.

“It’s okay,” I said, rubbing her arm. “I know what you’re going through.”

“Of course you do,” she said, then her eyes widened and she laughed. “Yes, of course, Brooklyn. That’s why we called you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“But I must admit that while we were waiting,” she said, “we got so involved in trying to figure it all out, that it slipped my mind that this sort of thing happens to you on a regular basis.”

“Brooklyn’s an old hand at this murder game,” Mom said, winking at me.

I stared at both of them, then looked at Derek. He looked as flummoxed as I felt, because I was pretty sure that they were enjoying themselves.

“Where’s the body?” he asked. “The police will be here any minute and I’d like to see where it happened before they get here.”

“Oh, good point,” Mom said, and turned to Meg. “Derek is so smart.”

“I couldn’t be prouder,” Meg said, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Mom turned back to Derek and me. “The body’s here in the committee room.”

We followed them back up the hall. Despite the initial shock, the two of them were handling themselves pretty well, all things considered. It made me even more convinced that it was Jacob Banyan who was dead, mainly because Mom wasn’t overwrought about it.

Of course, she might’ve been feeling relieved now, but she would have to deal with the horror later. She would probably relive that moment of discovering the dead body many times over the next few days, and maybe even longer than that. I hated to think that could be the case.

“It’s just so sad,” Mom said, and took my arm as we approached the room. “I never really knew what you went through when you found all those poor dead people. But now that I’ve been through it myself, I have more respect for you than ever, if that’s possible.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I think.

“Here we go,” Mom said, and swung her arm out as if she were introducing a new guest on a talk show. Good grief.

“Yes, indeed,” Meg added jovially. “There’s your body. Oh, and you two should know, we didn’t touch it.”

“I hope not,” Derek muttered.

All I could think was that our mothers made a great team.

Yes, indeed. I stared at the body sprawled on the floor. He was a large man wearing a gray hoodie and baggy black jeans. His arms were extended straight out as if he had been making a swan dive. The thought of that—and the reality of it—was grotesque and awful. There was so much blood.

Why did there always have to be blood? Couldn’t we stumble across a poisoning once in a while? My head began to pound, and I had to breathe slowly and deeply as my eyelids fluttered and I groaned. “Oh no.”

Derek grabbed me. “No, you don’t. Just look away, love. You’ll be all right.”

Clearly I wasn’t going to be okay because my head was spinning and I was starting to falter on my feet. I hated myself for being so weak. I wish I could say that it was the dreaded knowledge that my mother and Meg had been the ones to see the body that was causing my stomach to do backflips. But no, it was just me. And I had to wonder what had happened to that strong woman I had just been calling myself.

“Sit down,” Derek ordered, and basically pushed me down into a chair.

“Okay, okay,” I whispered.

“Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes. “I’m not going to faint, I promise.” At least, that was what I mentally told myself in a very sternly worded speech. But really, why did there have to be blood?

“Wait here, love.” Derek kissed the top of my head as if I were a well-behaved four-year-old. I opened my eyes and watched him walk toward the body, being careful of where he stepped. He wouldn’t want to destroy any evidence, I knew, but definitely wanted to see how Banyan had died. As he got closer, he bent down to get a good look at the dead man’s face.

In an instant he turned and stared at me.

“What?” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s not Banyan,” he said flatly. “It’s Lawson Schmidt.”


Derek had closed the committee room door and shepherded us down the hall to a room where there were no dead bodies. And that was where we waited for the police to arrive. Instead of a business-like conference room, this room was furnished with several couches and chairs arranged around a coffee table. Bookshelves lined two walls and magazines were neatly fanned out across the end tables.

The room was clearly intended to be used as a quiet reading room. I thought it was lovely that we had such a pleasant spot in which to wait until the police were ready to grill us.

My stomach and I were doing much better, now that I wasn’t in the same room with poor, dead Lawson. And thinking of him, I turned to my mother. “Mom, why didn’t you tell us the victim was Lawson?”

“Didn’t I mention it?” She looked at Meg and they both frowned. “Isn’t that odd?”

“We were a little flustered at the time,” Meg explained.

“Of course you were,” I hastened to say, not wanting to upset them. “It’s just that it was such a shock to see Lawson lying there.”

“Oh, it was a shock to us, too,” Mom said.

“To be honest,” I said quietly, “I had just assumed the victim would be Jacob Banyan.”

“That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?” Mom said. “Funny, though. I have Banyan pegged as the killer.”

Mom sure had the lingo down, if nothing else.

We heard heavy footsteps approaching in the hallway.

“We’re down here,” Mom called out.

The first one to walk into the room was Gabriel. He saw me and said, “Babe.”

“Gabriel.” Still a little wobbly, I stood and wrapped my arms around him. “Thanks for being here.”

“Where else would I be?” he said simply.

Following close behind him were two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, plus another man in street clothes.

In a strategic move, Gabriel shot a meaningful look at Derek and said, “Commander Stone, I’d like to introduce you to Detective Steve Willoughby. And these are Officers Kristin Jenkins and Matthew Steuben.”

“How do you do?” Derek said, his voice going into full James Bond mode as he first shook the detective’s hand, then turned to shake hands with both officers.

“Commander,” the detective murmured.

I blinked. “Stevie?”

The detective frowned, then his eyes widened. “Brooklyn?”

“Look at you,” I said softly. “All grown up and wearing a tie.”

“And you look . . . great,” he said. “Wow. What are the chances?”

Stevie had no way of knowing, but the chances were pretty good when it came to me showing up around a dead body. It was sad but true.

“I thought you moved back east,” I said.

“Minneapolis,” he corrected. “I was on the force for ten years before moving back home to take this job.”

“I hear it gets cold in Minneapolis,” I said lamely.

He grinned. “You have no idea.”

Even as far back as grade school, Stevie had been the all-American boy next door, friendly and blond and cute as could be. He was tall and muscular, a natural athlete. My mother always liked him because he was so polite. I hoped that was still the case. He was still blond and cute, for sure. And he was tall, though not as tall as Derek. Or as muscular. Not that I was comparing the two men, because there was no comparison when it came to Derek.

I turned to Derek. “Stevie—I mean—Detective Willoughby, and I went to grammar school together.”

“Good to know,” Derek said.

“Commander Stone is my husband,” I said quickly.

“Well, well,” Stevie said. “Congratulations to you both.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

I glanced at Gabriel, who was grinning broadly. And that was when I remembered why we were all here. Good grief. That concludes tonight’s session of crime scene chitchat, I thought.

“Commander,” Gabriel said. “Will you show Detective Willoughby and the officers where the body is?”

“Certainly.” Derek caught my gaze and winked, then ushered them out of the room and down the hall.

At the door, Stevie glanced back. “If you’ll all remain here until we can get your statements, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course,” I said.

Then he disappeared down the hall.

“Well, that was strange,” I muttered.

“Not at all, dear.” Mom smiled. “Stevie Willoughby grew up quite nicely, didn’t he?”

I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. And yet I had been thinking the same thing. “Yeah, he did, Mom.”

“I wonder if he’s married.”

“Mom!”

“We could introduce him to Annie,” she said innocently.

“She’s dating Presley, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, we’ll think of someone for him.”

“He might be married, Mom.”

“We’ll find out.”

“I’m sure we will.” Because Becky Wainwright was on the case.


My dad and John arrived a couple minutes later and joined us in the waiting room. While the parents talked quietly, I was thinking. I hated to admit that I was very nearly disappointed to find that Banyan wasn’t the victim. And what, I wondered, does that say about me? That, though, was a question for a different time. The one we needed answers to now was “So why was Lawson killed?”

Dad and John had gone down the hall to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, so my question was aimed at the moms.

I thought it was helpful that Gabriel knew the cops well enough that they allowed him to hang out on the periphery of the crime scene. It was also really nice that Stevie and the officers were showing the same sort of respect for Derek as the San Francisco cops had always shown him.

I, on the other hand, got bupkes, even though I’d been Detective Stevie Willoughby’s fourth-grade crush. And lest they forgot, I was married to the Commander! Clearly, those important points had no bearing on my status around here and my chances of being in on their assessment of the crime scene.

“I have no idea why anyone would want to hurt poor old Lawson,” Mom said softly. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Not fair at all,” Meg said. “He seemed like a congenial sort of fellow.”

“He is,” Mom insisted. “I mean, he was. He’s been in the Fellowship forever, so that counts for something.” She suddenly glanced at me and I knew she was thinking of a certain Fellowship member who had proven herself capable of cold-blooded murder. So membership didn’t necessarily count for anything, unfortunately. But I refused to think about that right now.

“Of course,” Mom continued, “Lawson wasn’t the best co-chair in the world, but he wasn’t terrible. At least he wasn’t a bully like Jacob Banyan or a mean witch like Saffron Bergeron. He was just . . . Lawson.”

“If that’s true, then his death doesn’t make any sense.” I kept going back to what I’d heard Banyan say to Lawson yesterday. Good grief, was it only yesterday? You’re nothing but a thief and a liar. What did that mean? What did Banyan think Lawson had stolen? What did he think Lawson had lied about?

And now I had to ask myself the burning question: Did Jacob Banyan kill Lawson?

“Mom, you said that Lawson handled all the money for the festival.”

“Yes, and he seemed to be doing a decent job, as far as I know.”

“As far as you know?” I repeated, truly confused now. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you know what kind of job he’s doing?”

“Because, sweetie, we’re handling two distinctly separate parts of the festival. I’m taking care of speakers and schedules and those sorts of things. Who gets which booth and where each booth should be situated, you know. I’ve booked all the authors and speakers and vintners, and let’s see, I’ve ordered books for anyone who’s speaking or signing during the three days of the festival. I’m also supervising the other committee members who are handling the schedules and the details of publicity and marketing and all the banners and flyers. There’s so much that goes into an event like this. Oh, and all the food and beverage vendors, too.”

“Wow, that’s a lot,” I said, impressed that Mom had taken on so much. “And what was Lawson handling?”

“He was taking care of all the rest of it. Supplies and equipment, mainly. He had to order the booths themselves, of course, and the chairs and tables that go inside the booths. And there are the porta-potties, the trash cans, the benches and chairs that we’ll line up around the perimeter to allow for seating. Plus linens, tablecloths, all those sorts of things. He was supervising a number of committee members himself, too.”

“So why would Banyan call him a thief and a liar?”

“Oh, honey,” she said with a sigh. “That didn’t mean anything. Banyan is simply an awful person with an ugly mind.”

“So you didn’t hear any complaints from anyone about their bills not being paid on time?”

“No complaints at all. But then again, I’m not dealing with the same people that Lawson was dealing with.”

“I see.”

We sat with our own thoughts for a few minutes, then I remembered something else. “Mom, the police will be back to ask questions pretty soon and they’ll probably want to hear all about your relationship with Lawson and the committee and everything else. The fact that Lawson was killed right in the committee meeting room means that there’s got to be a connection.”

“Oh gosh, sweetie, you’re right.” She gave my arm a squeeze, then turned to Meg. “See, that’s why I wanted to call Brooklyn first thing.”

“She did,” Meg assured me. “Because you’ve been there, done that, and you think of all these things that would never have occurred to us.”

Mom wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder. “Oh, Brooklyn. I’m so proud of you and am so glad you’re here.”

“I’m proud of you, too.” I held on to her for a long moment, then reached out to Meg. “Proud of both of you.”

I sat back on the cushion, anxious to prepare them for what would happen when the police came back in here. “One thing I’ve learned is that when you’re answering any question the police ask you, you should first of all be totally honest, naturally. If you try to sneak in a little white lie, they’ll find out and it’ll make things a lot worse.”

“It’s just like we’ve always taught our kids, right Meg?”

Meg held up her hand as if she were pledging in court. “Absolutely. Tell the truth and shame the devil.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Right. But I have one other word of advice and I think it’s important, too. Please try not to overshare, if you know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean, sweetie.” She winked at me. “You don’t want me to start jabbering like a fool, right?”

“Well, sort of. Except you’re not a fool, Mom. No way. I only mention the oversharing thing because I’ve done it myself and it never seems to work out well. Just answer their questions honestly and don’t volunteer information they didn’t ask for.”

“You’re too cute.” She patted my knee. “Thank you, sweetie. We’ll get through this.”

“Yes, dear,” Meg added. “Don’t worry.”

I smiled wearily. “Too late.”