A Cookbook Conspiracy (17 page)

I looked around for Derek and saw him chatting with Dad at the grill. They were soon
joined by Austin, Trevor, and Beau, who gathered around to watch the meat cook, as
men were inclined to do. I was happy my family had welcomed Derek into our world.
He seemed comfortable with them, too, as if he’d always been around.

We ate like starving refugees and drank several bottles of
reserve Pinot Noir and Sauvignon Blanc from the commune’s own winery. I found myself
growing sleepy in the sun. “I’m ready for a nap.”

“But you’ve only had three hot dogs and two helpings of potato salad,” Robin said
wryly. “You can’t quit yet.”

I rubbed my stomach. “I’m saving room for dessert.”

“Brooklyn, sweetie,” Mom called from the sliding door, “can you help me with dessert?”

Robin snickered.

“Sure, Mom,” I said, smirking at Robin. “Be right there.”

Minutes later, I came back outside with a tray loaded down with a large baking dish
of apple crisp, a gallon tub of vanilla ice cream, plus bowls and spoons, and headed
for the side table.

“Hello, Brooklyn, dear.”

“Oh!” I gasped and bobbled the heavy tray as the soft voice came from behind me. Turning,
I smiled. “Hi, Robson.”

Robson Benedict, aka Guru Bob, reached out to steady the tray. “I surprised you, gracious.
I am sorry.”

“You sure did, but it’s my own fault. I should’ve been paying better attention.”

His smile was compassionate as he took the tray from me. “Let me help you with this.”

“Thank you.” Was it obvious how discombobulated I was? Guru Bob usually had that effect
on me. I think it was because he just always seemed to know what was going on inside
my head. I wouldn’t go so far as to admit that he was clairvoyant, but he definitely
saw things that other people didn’t.

“Shall I put it down over here?” he said, walking to the side table.

“Yes, please.” I took the serving dish of apple crisp and the ice cream off the tray
and arranged them on the table. The bowls and spoons were stacked in front for people
to grab easily.

Mom came running over, but skidded to a stop when she saw
Guru Bob standing next to me. “Oh, Robson. Hello. I’m so glad you could make it. Would
you like a hot dog or some salad? I can fix you a plate.”

“Thank you, Rebecca. I might have something later. Right now, I am helping Brooklyn
serve dessert.”

“You—you are?”

“Yes, gracious, I am.”

Mom’s mouth fell open and she spluttered, “Well, of course you’re welcome to help,
but, but…” Her face was turning pink. Glad to know I wasn’t the only one discombobulated
by Guru Bob.

Here was the thing about Guru Bob. He called us all “gracious” because he held the
stubbornly optimistic belief that people were naturally filled with grace and goodwill.

And another thing. I always called him Robson, not Guru Bob. The Guru nickname was
something we kids came up with when we were insolent teenagers, but a nickname was
just wrong for someone as centered and truly good as Robson.

“Thank you for your concern, Rebecca,” he said. “It is an honor to be of service to
your guests.”

“You’re my guest as well, Robson.” She looked calmer now. “So whenever you’re ready,
there’s still plenty of food left to enjoy.”

“That is lovely of you, Rebecca. Thank you.”

Mom leaned closer to me and whispered, “You help him.” Then she walked back into the
kitchen.

Guru Bob laughed out loud. “She has no confidence whatsoever in my abilities.”

“She’s just more comfortable taking care of her guests than putting them to work.”
I began to cut into the apple crisp. “Of course, that attitude doesn’t extend to her
kids.”

Guru Bob chuckled. We worked together in companionable silence, filling dessert bowls
with apple crisp and topping them with scoops of ice cream. The apple crisp went quickly,
as always,
and Robin’s dark chocolate cake with strawberries and buttercream filling was decimated
as well. Mom finished it off by snagging the last two slices. She covered them with
a napkin and hid them somewhere in the kitchen for her and Dad to enjoy later.

We stuffed ourselves, all the while asking how anyone could eat dessert after that
huge meal. It was a tough job, but we managed.

Derek stacked his empty apple crisp bowl on the tray with the others. “That was her
best effort yet.”

“I thought so, too,” I said, rubbing my bursting stomach. “I should take a long walk
to work off some of this food.”

Guru Bob touched my arm. “I will walk with you, gracious.”

“Excellent idea, Robson,” Derek said. “I’ll go help Rebecca with the dishes.”

“She’ll be in heaven,” I said. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Guru Bob led the way along the side of the house and out to the front. From there
it was a short hike to the top of the hill where the road leveled out. We followed
the tree line, walking in silence while I tried to figure out how to bring up the
subject of murder to Guru Bob again. But he saved me the trouble.

“I understand that you and your sister were confronted with another violent death
recently.”

“Yes, we were,” I said. We stopped walking and I stared out at the rolling, grapevine-studded
hills across the wide gully that ran behind my parents’ property. The ground was still
brown from winter and the grapevines had not yet begun to grow their leaves back.
Come summer, there would be grass on the hills and the plants would be gloriously
full of green leaves and plump grapes.

Overhead, the breeze flitted through the quaking aspens, causing the pretty green
leaves to flutter and spin and whistle their soft rustling sound. Billowy clouds darted
past the branches. Somewhere down in the gully, a dog barked at the rushing water
that babbled over the rocks.

It was a perfect moment, except for the frisson of tension grabbing hold of my shoulders.

I glanced at Guru Bob. “You probably heard it was Baxter Cromwell who was killed.”

“I did.”

“Savannah found him. It was awful. They’re old friends and she was really upset. You
probably know the whole story.”

“I do,” he said. “And I spoke with Savannah. I think she will be fine. I am more concerned
about you.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Your mother worries.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I mean, I
was
fine, physically. But I had to admit that it had been bothering me for a while, this
whole murder-magnet thing. Why was I the one who had to stumble onto bodies?

We started walking again, headed for the copse of trees that marked the end of the
narrow road.

“Last year,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked, “after you
shared your concerns with me, we did not speak of it again. Recently, though, I found
out you have since had two more similar experiences. And now this latest event.”

“That’s right.” I raised my shoulders in resignation and tried to smile. “Guess you
were right about that whole
Nemesis
thing.”

A few months ago, during a particularly upsetting murder investigation, Guru Bob had
suggested that, like Miss Marple in the Agatha Christie story
Nemesis
, I might’ve been chosen to speak for the dead. It was crazy, of course, but what
else could explain my odd tendency of finding dead bodies wherever I went?

Robson frowned. It was so unusual to see that expression on his face, I felt a little
guilty for causing him any trouble.

“It brings me no comfort to be right,” he said. “I would prefer to be of help.”

“Oh, but you are,” I said immediately. “You have been. Just
talking to you last time made me feel better. And as awful as it’s been whenever it’s
happened since then, I’ve remembered your words and they’ve helped me. Really.”

He sighed deeply. “That is heartening, although I would rather you never had to suffer
this way again.”

“You and me both,” I muttered, then realized how unhappy I sounded. That wasn’t my
style. At least I was alive and healthy, not lying in some morgue. I mentally smacked
myself out of my pity party.

Stopping on the dirt trail, I turned and faced him. “I’m sorry for complaining, Robson.
I’m not the one who’s hurting. It’s the victims and those who loved them. I think
about the people who’ve suffered so much at the hands of some vicious killer. It’s
horrifying. And their poor families and friends will suffer forever. They’ll never
see their loved ones again, but they’ll relive those painful moments over and over.
That makes me angry. That’s what hurts most. That’s what I can’t reconcile. It’s so
unfair.”

“Exactly,” he said, with a solemn nod.

Okay, I guess I was more upset than I thought. It wasn’t like me to rant in front
of Guru Bob. “Sorry to go off like that.”

“There is no need to be sorry.” His eyes were warm, his features set into familiar,
comforting lines. “This is what is real in you. We spoke of it the last time. You
clearly feel their pain so deeply. You first felt it for Abraham. I know you still
hold his loss close to your heart. He was the catalyst that continues to push you
to do the right thing for the others. Who better could these victims have on their
side than you, Brooklyn?”

“It started with Abraham,” I whispered.

“Yes, of course. It fell upon you to unravel the mystery of his death.”

I frowned.
“Nemesis.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “If you will.”

“I’m not pleased about this.”

He took my arm and wove it through his as we turned and headed back to my parents’
home. “You have other things, wonderful things, with which to be pleased.”

“True enough,” I admitted.

He stopped abruptly, turned and met my gaze. “This calling does not require your happiness,
Brooklyn. Only your strength, your perseverance, and your innate sense of justice.”

This
calling
? Good grief, I didn’t want to be
called
. I swallowed. “I’m not really all that strong.”

“You kid yourself.”

I laughed weakly.

Arm in arm, we walked the rest of the way back in silence. There was nothing left
to say and far too much to think about.

If I had thought I might escape Mom’s protection ritual by slipping off to talk to
Guru Bob, I was totally wrong. And if I’d thought she would wait until everyone left
before she started the whole bizarre performance, I was wrong again.

As soon as I stepped onto the terrace, my family members perked up like little puppies
waiting for their bacon treats. The anticipation was palpable. They were hankering
for a chance to poke fun at me—and I couldn’t blame them. I would be doing the same
thing if one of them was about to become the center of attention in one of Mom’s weird
and wacky freak shows.

I should’ve been happy that everyone considered Mom’s ceremonies a good entertainment
value. But the scary little secret was, her spells were alarmingly effective as well.

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that my mother was gaining a reputation as a successful
witch? Probably a little of both.

Mom pounced the minute she spotted me. “There you are! I’ve got everything ready for
the ceremony.”

“Shouldn’t we say good-bye to our guests first?” I said loudly.
Hint, hint.

“We’re not going anywhere,” China assured me. She was all tucked up and cuddly with
Beau on one of the outdoor love seats on the far side of the terrace. Baby Hannah
lay sleeping in Beau’s arms while the grown-ups waited patiently for the show to begin.

I shot Guru Bob a look of alarm, but he just smiled back at me with that virtuous
expression of his. And with an encouraging pat on my shoulder, he left me and went
over to sit in the chair next to my father. No doubt it was his way of saying, “You’re
on your own, buckaroo.”

I scanned the crowd, caught sight of Robin’s smirk and knew she was recalling a similar
scene from last year. After being hurt badly by a psychopathic undercover agent, Robin
had been treated to one of Mom’s healing rituals. It had been a big success. Not only
did Robin heal quickly, but my brother Austin was there for the show and afterward,
he’d seemed positively bewitched. Within minutes of the ceremony, he had swept Robin
up in his arms and carried her off to his lair. It was a truly romantic sight, a real
knight-in-shining-armor moment. Mom had taken all the credit for cosmically kicking
Austin’s butt into gear.

“Brooklyn, I’ve a chair for you here.” Derek waved me over to the well-padded patio
chair next to him. His eyes twinkled with something like…anticipation. Or mischief?

That’s when I noticed that all the patio furniture had been arranged in a semicircle
so that everyone had a good view of me.

My glares had no effect on him.

“It’s all in good fun,” he said.

“Easy for you to say,” I grumbled. “Just wait till it’s your turn.”

His eyes widened but he said nothing, merely held up his crossed fingers as if to
ward off my evil threat.

Ah, well. So everyone would enjoy a good laugh at my expense.
I had managed to live through these moments before and would do so again.

As soon as I sat down, Mom came toddling over with a sturdy wooden tray and set it
on the coffee table in front of me. Anyone still standing quickly took seats on the
couches and chairs. I still couldn’t believe Guru Bob was staying for the show.

Dazed, I stared at the tray filled with Mom’s usual arsenal of witchy tools and props.
There was the ubiquitous bundle of white sage, tightly wrapped, to be burned and waved
in my vicinity to cleanse away negativity; a miniature bucket filled with sand used
for extinguishing the smoking sage; a bowl of blue glitter that left me curious since
I’d never seen Mom use blue glitter in a ritual before; three small dishes filled
with different herbs for summoning helpful spirits or banishing malicious vibes; a
slender, foot-long oak branch that Mom used as a magic wand in ceremonies that called
for a strong, protective wood influence; and three small, colorful candles.