One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

able to do the more intricate work of gilding the cover while I was away from my workroom and office, so I busied myself with separating the cover boards from the text block. Some threads had already frayed, and some of the signatures, or folded pages, had separated from the rest of the block. I would resew the entire text block, but first I wanted to get rid of all the loose and tattered threads.
     
    Using my tweezers, I started at the top of the folded pages and took my time, being careful not to split the vellum. The paper wasn’t fragile, but after a hundred years or so, the threads had worn grooves in the folds, so there was a chance of tearing if I wasn’t meticulous.
     
    After almost one hour, the threads were gone. I cautiously thumbed through the signatures to make sure I’d caught any errant strings that might have gotten loose within the pages themselves. I wasn’t very efficient because the edges were deckled, or uneven, so I began to turn each page, one by one, to check more carefully.
     
    Halfway through the book, I came to two pages that were stuck together. I’d noticed the sticking pages before and knew I’d get to them eventually. It was common in deckled-edged books to find pages that hadn’t been completely separated after they left the bookbinder’s. But this book was so old and had been read often by children and their parents. Someone should have separated the pages long before now.
     
    I remembered reading the book myself when I first bought it years ago. I didn’t remember missing part of the story, but maybe I hadn’t been paying attention.
     
    I found my X-Acto knife, slipped it in between the two pages, and began to make little sawing movements along the edges. But the knife slid right through. Thepages
had
been separated, so why were they stuck together?
     
    I pulled gently at the ends and realized the two pages had been glued together!
     
    My first thought was that this book had been the victim of Victorian censorship. Now I was dying to know what part of the fairy tale had been deemed too salacious to be seen by children. What juicy bits were contained in those glued pages?
     
    I took hold of the edge of the pages in my hand and slowly, nervously pulled them apart, telling myself that if I met any resistance, I would stop. But I didn’t. With some horror, I realized after the first inch that the glue used was rubber cement. The pages were coming apart relatively easily now, but at what price?
     
    Little by little, another inch came unglued, then another. And that was when I saw the edge of a thick piece of paper glued in between the vellum. I continued to pull, revealing more. Finally, I could see more than one piece of paper. There were three or four pages. It took another bit of pulling to slip the papers out.
     
    It was a long, handwritten letter.
     
    My hands were shaking. Sometime within the past three years, someone had planted this lengthy letter inside the book. It became clear who that person was as I began to read.
     
    Dear Max.
     

Chapter 23
     
    Shocked by what I’d just read, I sat, momentarily frozen, in my chair. Gazing blindly at the paper, I waited while my brain slowly began to figure out the true meaning behind the words.
    Oh, great. Emily and Max were just starting to get things worked out. And now I was about to throw another stick in their spokes.
     
    Seconds later, I jumped into gear and ran out of the room. “Max,” I shouted as I ran down the hall. “Emily!”
     
    I stopped abruptly in the middle of the living room and looked around. “Max?”
     
    But there was no answer and it chilled me to the bone. I’d been working in my room for the past hour. Had Solomon somehow gotten into the house and grabbed him?
     
    “Emily?” She wasn’t at the dining room table, where I’d last seen her. I stopped in the middle of the living room and looked around. Where was she? I kept perfectly still as I considered my next move.
     
    “Don’t panic,” I said under my breath.
     
    I heard a brush of movement and whipped around. The sound had come from down the hall. I took a few steps in that direction, then stopped as it hit me in a flash. They were probably in the bedroom together.
     
    “Okay.” I gulped, then sucked in a big breath and letit go.
Way to freak out for nothing,
I thought, mentally smacking my forehead.
     
    A moment later, Max’s bedroom door opened and he walked out into the hall. His hair was mussed, and I knew I was