Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

Sonoma wine country, and opened Arugula, a high-end vegetarian restaurant, I was thrilled for her. I marveled at her innovative menus and wine pairings. I cheered her fabulous reviews. I was in awe of her divine ability to create a chanterelle glaze that could so perfectly complement a heavenly pillow of delicate, hand-shaped ravioli, thus providing the perfect juxtaposition of taste and texture on the tongue.
    But come on, universe! What about me? You couldn’t even give me a heads-up on how long to boil macaroni? Because I’m telling you, those instructions on the box are always wrong.
    “This shouldn’t be so hard,” I muttered, tossing the empty cardboard pasta box into the trash. I stood alone in my kitchen and stared in disgust at the mushy pasta draining in the colander. I’d been so careful this time, followed the directions to the letter, but once again the universe was out to get me.
    I grabbed my wineglass and took a fortifying sip before reaching for yet another test noodle, biting into it and sighing in dismay. Yup, this one was just as soggy as the others. I turned the colander over and tossed the entire batch of pasta down the garbage disposal.
    “What a waste.” I was debating whether to cook another package of pasta or just call for a pizza when my doorbell rang. I dried my hands on a dish towel, thenjogged around the kitchen bar, down the hall, and into my workshop, where my front door was located.
    Months of strange comings and goings in my building had me checking the peephole before unlocking the door and throwing it open.
    “Speak of the devil,” I said by way of greeting Savannah.
    “Me? The devil?” She pushed her raincoat hood back as she entered my home.
    I blinked. It was still startling to see her smooth, bald head revealed, but I had to admit that the look worked for her. Her facial features were petite and refined, and she seemed to radiate healthy living.
    “Yes, you.” I took her damp coat and hung it on the back of one of my tall workshop chairs. “I was just thinking of you as I threw another batch of disgusting, overdone pasta down the drain.”
    She wiped away an imaginary tear. “That’s so sweet. I think of you that way, too.”
    “Sorry, but I’m frustrated.” I explained as I led the way back to the kitchen. “It’s just not fair that I am completely incapable of boiling water, and then there’s you. I don’t get it.”
    “Ah.” She smiled. “Well, look on the bright side. I destroy books.”
    “True.” My sisters and I had always been voracious readers, but none of us would read a book after Savannah was finished with it. Not only did she scribble in the margins, but she would mark where she’d left off by dog-earing the page. It was barbaric. She liked to sadistically crack the spine to keep a book splayed open. If you valued a book, you never lent it to Savannah.
    As a professional lover of books, I felt my stomach clench whenever I happened to look at her slapdash bookshelves.
    Without bothering to ask, I reached into my cupboard for another wineglass and poured her some of the 2009 pinot noir I’d been sampling.
    “This is good,” she said after taking a sip. “Light yet jammy, with earthy undertones.”
    I smirked. “Much like yourself.”
    “Thank you.”
    “What are you doing here? I mean, I’m happy to see you, but I can’t remember the last time you visited.”
    “I know.” She perched her butt on one of the barstools at my kitchen counter. “I came into town for a meeting this afternoon and decided to take a chance that you would be home.”
    I sat down across from her. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
    She barely resisted a sneer. “Only if you’re having takeout.”
    “Definitely.”
    “Will Derek be here?”
    “He should be home any minute.”
    She grinned. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
    That was an easy decision. I reached for the phone. “Let me call in the order; then we can talk.”
    After ordering enough Thai food for a family of eight, I hung up and poured us both more wine. My cell phone buzzed and I checked the text message. “Derek should be home in twenty minutes.”
    “Good. That gives me just enough time to ask a favor.”
    I watched her dig into her oversized shoulder bag and retrieve a small, colorful bundle. I was pretty sure I recognized the wrapping. “Is that a Pucci?”
    Her eyes lit up. “Yes. Do you remember when I bought these for everyone?”
    “Of course. I still have mine.” The