The Book Stops Here: A Mobile Library Mystery by Ian Sansom

Ted.
    'Baklava,' repeated Israel.
    'Aye. Right. What is it?'
    'It's pastry, with pistachios,' said Israel.
    'No,' said Ari. 'It's not pistachios. It's almonds.'
    'I always thought it was pistachios,' said Israel.
    'You can have either almond or pistachio,' said Deborah.
    'I've had walnut, actually,' said Ari.
    'Sounds lovely,' said Israel's mother.
    'Walnut?' said Israel.
    'Uh-huh.'
    'I've never had walnut,' said Israel. 'And I've had a lot of baklava.'
    'It's filo pastry,' said Deborah, explaining to Ted.
    'Aye. Nice.'
    'It was on a business trip to New York I had the walnut baklava,' said Ari.
    'And the sticky stuff is—what's the sticky stuff, Mother?' said Deborah.
    'Orange-blossom water.'
    'Ah, that's right.'
    'Are you sure it was walnut?' said Israel.
    'Of course I'm sure.'
    'What?' said Ted.
    'It's lovely baklava, Mum,' said Israel. 'Did you make it?'
    'Israel!' said Deborah.
    'What?'
    'You never ask a lady if she's made a dish.'
    'Do you not?'
    'No.'
    'Do I look like I have time to make baklava?' said Israel's mother.
    'Erm.' Israel looked at his mother's French-polished nails. 'So where's it from?'
    'Israel!' said Deborah.
    'It's from Israel?' said Ted.
    'It's from Jacob's, on the High Street, where we've been buying our baklava for thirty years,' said Israel's mother.
    'Oh,' said Israel. 'Of course. I was only asking.'

    * * *
    Soon after the baklava Ari and Deborah had to go: Ari had a big presentation the next day.
    ' Big presentation,' he said, slipping into his suit jacket, Israel's mother holding it out for him, like a personal valet. 'You know what it's like, Eva.'
    'Hardly!' said Israel's mother, twittering.
    'Ted, it's been a pleasure,' said Ari.
    'Aye,' said Ted.
    Ted and Israel and his mother cleared the remaining dishes and then sat around drinking coffee. There was still no sign of Gloria. Israel texted her again.
    'Still no sign of Gloria then?' said Israel's mother.
    'No,' said Israel.
    'Surprise, surprise.'
    'It's fine. She's probably…'
    'You can always stay here tonight.'
    'Well, I'll…'
    'Your room's all made up.'
    'Well…'
    'Good. That's settled then,' said Israel's mother, opening another bottle of wine.
    'Now,' she said, turning her attention to Ted. 'Did you say you were from Dublin?'
    'Mother!' said Israel. 'I told you. He's from Northern Ireland.'
    'I'm from Antrim,' said Ted.
    'My late husband was from Dublin,' said Israel's mother dreamily.
    'In Ireland doth fair Dublin stand,' said Ted. 'The city chief therein; and it is said by many more, the city chief of sin.'
    'Oh!' said Israel's mother. 'That's very good. Did you make that up?'
    'Ach, no,' said Ted.
    'I have a couple of Van Morrison albums somewhere,' said Israel's mother, getting up.
    'Aye, he's a Belfast lad,' said Ted.
    'It's like name the famous Belgian, isn't it?' said Israel's mother, who'd gone over to the cupboard where Israel's dad had kept his records. 'Van Morrison. George Best. He's from your neck of the woods, isn't he?'
    'Aye,' said Ted.
    'Terrible waste,' said Israel's mother.
    'D'ye know the joke?' said Ted.
    'Which joke?' said Israel's mother.
    'So,' said Ted. 'George Best is in the Ritz Hotel in bed with Miss World.'
    'Right,' said Israel's mother, facing Ted, hand on hip, wineglass in the other.
    'And the bed is covered with money—fifty pound notes. The waiter comes in with room service—another bottle of champagne.'
    'Uh-huh,' said Israel's mother.
    'And the waiter takes in the scene and shakes his head and he says, "Where did it all go wrong, George?"'
    'Oh, that's very funny!' said Israel's mother, her face creasing up with laughter. 'That's very funny! Isn't it, Israel?'
    Israel frowned. Ted had told him the joke several dozen times before.
    'Yes,' said Israel.
    'I don't think I know any other famous Northern Irishmen,' said Israel's mother.
    'Wayne McCullough?' said Ted.
    'Is he a singer?'
    'He's a boxer,' said Ted.
    'The Corrs?' said Israel's mother.
    'They're from down south,' said Ted.
    'Oh.'
    'Liam