A Lonely Way to Die: A Utah O'Brien Mystery Novel (Minnesota Mysteries Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

tour.”
    “A tour,” I said, not quite getting it.
    “He’s in a band. Blue Malachi.”
    Sam turned around from the counter, holding a bowl of pancake batter that he was stirring. “Blue Malachi is one of my favorite bands. What’s your dad’s name? I bet I’ll recognize it.”
    Gabe sniffed. I pulled the box of tissues closer to him. He took one, and wiped his nose.
    “Gavril Constantin,” he said. “He’s the lead singer.”
    “Constantin has a great voice,” Sam said. He turned to me and explained, keeping his voice soft, in respect for Gabe’s grief. “It’s a Christian country rock band. Or country blues—I’m not sure how they describe themselves. They were on Jimmy Fallon’s show a few months ago. You saw the show with me, Utah.”
    I nodded vaguely, but I didn’t remember.
    Sam let out an unnecessarily heavy sigh. “He’s the guy with the tats you liked.”
    “Oh—the Celtic sleeve tattoo, lots of negative space, on one arm. I remember that. It was nice work. Really nice. But, you said they did gospel music? They’re a Christian band?”
    “They played during the last segment. Mavis Staples sang with them. It was a huge honor for the band. Don’t you remember?”
    I tried, but there was nothing there. “I think I fell asleep.”
    Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. Gabe smiled. Sam sent me an apologetic grin for making a joke at my expense, but I didn’t mind.
    “Blue Malachi,” I said. “It sounds like the band’s name must mean something.”
    Gabe said, “My dad thought it up. He got Malachi from the Bible, and liked it because it means ‘messenger’ or ‘my angel.’ Gavril is how you say Gabriel in Romania, so him and me are both named after an angel. And the ‘blue’ part is because of the music. Mom liked the name because malachite is green, so it sounded like sort of a joke.’
    Although the boy was still very sad, he was now sitting up straight and his eyes darted around, looking at the tall curved ceiling above the kitchen, the open stairway to the loft, the dragon sculpted into the back of the heated bench, and the old kitchen cupboards with the varnished plywood countertop.
    He said, while still looking around. “Where’s your living room?”
    “On the other side of town,” Sam said, with a smile. “At my house. Utah forgot to build a living room when she put this apartment together.” He winked at me to show he was kidding. Sort of.
    “Oh,” Gabe said, with a confused frown. “I thought you all lived here.” He looked at the bowl of pancake batter Sam was stirring, and then at Josie, holding the baby.
    Josie said, “I have a cute little trailer out back. I don’t live here.”
    “I spend a lot of time here,” Sam said. An understatement, since all his clothes are in my closet. “But we watch movies at my place. Utah won’t let me bring my TV over here. We’d have to put it in the bedroom, and she says it isn’t healthy to watch TV before going to bed.”
    Gabe looked at the railing of the loft, above Josie’s head. “That’s what my mom says, too. It’s what she used to say, I mean. That’s why she always told a story before bedtime, because she said the TV makes you have the wrong dreams. I tried to tell Grace a story last night, but she went to sleep before I was done.”
    Tears threatened to spill out over the ledge of his lower eyelids, but he brushed them away. “Will I have to go live with my real mom, now?”
    Josie was watching intently, the baby asleep in her arms. She bit her lower lip.
    I said, “Isn’t Sonje McCrae your real mom?”
    “Yeah. But not my first mom. I was adopted.”
    Josie stood up and started to pace. The baby opened her eyes for a second, but went right back to sleep.
    “Well,” I said, “what about your dad?”
    Gabe shook his head. “But he’s not my real dad, either. He’s my step-dad. They got married when I was six. He and Mom were getting a divorce. When they told me they were splitting up, he promised