Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

idiosyncrasies, such as the unusual smell of the bark on one tree or the star-shaped fruit of another. Looking closer, I noticed that if the plaque had a blue triangle in the corner, it indicated that the plant was poisonous.
    Small benches and rattan chairs had been placed in carved-out alcoves along the path for guests to sit and read or rest in the quietly verdant environment.
    The two-story conservatory had been built alongside the west end of Grace’s home to take full advantage of the afternoon sunlight. There were unobstructed viewsthrough the glass of the crystal-blue waters of Lake Tahoe and the forest of thick pine and evergreen trees that grew on the steeply rugged mountains surrounding the lake.
    The three of us wandered the garden path in silence for a while, stopping now and then to admire a lush flowering plant or read the fascinating history of a rare tree whose branches stretched up to skim the glass ceiling. It was the first time I felt my shoulders relax since I’d arrived at Grace’s home.
    “I love the vibe of this room,” I murmured. My mind was so much calmer than it had been a few minutes ago. I wanted to stay right here. Maybe I could pilfer some blankets and curl up on that bench for the night.
    “Feeling better?” Suzie asked.
    I smiled. “Yes. Much better.”
    Vinnie threaded her arm through mine. “Brooklyn, you looked so sad when you walked in. If you are hurting, I hope you know we’re here for you.”
    I leaned against her petite shoulder and sighed. I had intended to dish about Suzie’s rude aunt Madge, but instead blurted, “I tried to call Derek, but a woman answered his phone.”
    “What?” Suzie said, outraged on my behalf.
    “I was as surprised as you are.” I waved my hand. “Never mind. It’s no big deal.”
    “It’s a big deal if she hurt you,” Suzie said gruffly.
    Vinnie tightened her arm against mine. “You know it means nothing. Don’t you, Brooklyn?”
    “Of course.” But a sudden case of sniffles betrayed me. “I must be catching a cold.”
    “Someone needs a hug.” Suzie came around behind me and the three of us held one another close for a moment. The warm cocoon of friendship touched me profoundly. Naturally, my tears welled over and the sniffling got worse. It was hell being a cheap crier.
    “Feeling the love?” Suzie said almost a minute later, grinning as she eased back.
    “Yeah.” I tried to laugh, but I was sniffling uncontrollably.
    “I’ll bet you could use a drink,” Suzie said.
    I nodded, helpless to speak.
    Vinnie pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to me. “Here you go.”
    I blew my nose and dabbed away my tears. “Thanks. You guys are the best.”
    “Bet your boots,” Suzie said. “Now, if you feel like talking about it…”
    “I don’t, but thanks.” I lifted my chin and shook my hair back. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for what happened, so I refuse to give it one more ounce of energy.”
    Suzie punched my upper arm lightly, then tugged me toward the open doorway. “Then there’s nothing left to do but go have that drink.”
    The house party was in full swing by the time the three of us walked into the Gold Salon. The room was right where Grace had told me, near the top of the grand stairway on the second floor. Three large bay windows covered the north wall of the salon. Each boasted a spectacular view of Lake Tahoe’s shimmering surface that reflected the swirling colors of the dusky sky.
    Ho-hum,
I thought, smiling.
Another spectacular view of the most beautiful lake in the world.
Grace’s home was full of them. If I lived here, I would never get tired of staring out the windows.
    Aside from the views, the Gold Salon was magnificent, even if overindulgent brothel styling wasn’t one’s taste. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the room had been decorated by a team of eighteenth-century French whores—all with exquisite taste, of course. The walls were lined with glittering gold brocade and the curtains were thick, shimmering burgundy velvet, and pulled back so the view could be appreciated.
    Settees and chairs covered in gold-toned tapestry designswere arranged in attractive, comfortable seating groups across the long room. One huge Oriental carpet covered the sleek hardwood floor.
    “Champagne, mademoiselle?” a strolling waiter said. He held a tray of delicate fluted glasses filled with bubbly golden liquid. With his free hand, he made a sweeping gesture toward