“We have work to do,” he said, and for the first time I could remember, he didn’t have even a glint of humor in his voice or on his face.

“Um, what kind of work?” I sat where directed and rummaged through my backpack for a memo pad and pen.

“Two of my friends have died in the last few weeks. They shouldn’t have. Something’s going on. Something monstrous and vile.”

And now I knew what Heather had meant. “Sorry to hear that,” I said slowly. “How old were they?”

“Eighty-six and seventy-nine.”

I put my pen down. “Max . . .”

“Don’t you start,” he snapped in a very un-Max-like way. “They were both hale and hearty. No reason they shouldn’t have lived another ten years.”

“You think someone killed them?” I tried to keep the disbelief out of my voice, but wasn’t sure I achieved my goal.

“Something’s going on,” he repeated, glaring at me. “Find out what it is.”

I looked at Max. My friend. The man who had become almost a grandfather to me, if I’d wanted to adopt a wheedling, cheerful, manipulative grandfather with a twisted sense of humor. “Okay,” I said. “Who are they?”

“Fred Hallenius. David Olivarez. You can find their obituaries online. That will get you started.”

I wrote the names on the pad, recognizing Fred as the father of Will and father-in-law of Iris Hallenius, who’d hitched a ride on the bookmobile. The other name I wasn’t familiar with.

“With you on the job,” Max said, rubbing his palms together, “it’s as good as done.”

Though I was glad he was so confident in my abilities, I was more concerned with how I was going to tell him that his friends were not, in fact, victims of any crime, but had simply passed away from natural causes.

“I’ll do my best,” I promised.

“You’re a good girl, Minnie Hamilton.” Max winked and gave me a thumbs-up.

I gave him a wan smile and hoped he’d continue to think so.

But I wasn’t at all sure he would.

*   *   *

By the time I got back to the houseboat, my legs had stiffened, a sad indicator that I was in for a couple of days of pain and misery.

“Tomorrow,” I told Eddie, “I am going to be doing the Grandpa Shuffle all day long.”

“Mrr.”

“What’s the Grandpa Shuffle, you ask?” To demonstrate, I scuffed across the kitchen, not lifting my shoes off the floor. “It’s how people who have lots of joint, back, or muscle pain sometimes end up walking.”

Eddie, who was flopped across the dashboard, watched my feet intently.