Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

That’s when I remembered there were worse things than being tired and grumpy in the morning. There was the whole puffy-face thing, too. I splashed lots of cold water on my face but knew it was hopeless. The other house guests would take one look at me and think I’d either been crying in my sleep (not likely) or I was coming down with a cold (no way!). Whatever the reason, it wasn’t pretty.
    I threw on my sweats and made my way down the hall, where I ran into Merrilee plugging in the vacuum cleaner.
    “Good morning,” she said in the cheeriest voice I’d heard since Beaver Cleaver’s mom greeted Eddie Haskell.
    “Hi, Merrilee.” My own voice sounded more like a bullfrog’s. “I guess I overslept a little. Am I too late for breakfast?”
    “Never,” she said with a smile. She gave me directions to Grace’s less formal family dining room located on the first floor off the back hall and outside the main kitchen.
    I found the room easily, thank goodness. I didn’t ever want to miss another meal again. A breakfast buffet hadbeen set up and I approached it eagerly, then reconsidered when I saw Madge and Harrison Crawford sharing the table with Peter and Sybil Brinker.
    I thought about grabbing a protein bar and hustling out of there to avoid conversation, but the aroma of fresh hot coffee and doughnuts grabbed me and I was stuck. I didn’t know where this recent doughnut fetish had come from, but I wasn’t about to question it as I headed straight for the stacks of buttermilk and jelly doughnuts and fluffy crullers that sat on a large warming tray. There were pastries, too. Bear claws, cheese Danish, apple fritters. I was in doughy, greasy, sugary doughnut heaven. I poured myself a cup of coffee, then grabbed a buttermilk doughnut and a chunky, sticky apple fritter.
    “Oh, my God. They’re actually warm,” I said, my voice trembling in anticipation.
    As an afterthought, I added a spoonful of scrambled eggs to my plate. A girl needed some protein every day.
    I greeted everyone as I sat down, but didn’t add much to the conversation. Instead, I listened as Madge complained about her lack of sleep.
    “What was all that pounding?” Madge demanded. “It kept me awake all night. Did you hear it?”
    Sybil frowned. “No, but we’re up on the third floor. I slept like a baby.”
    “Oh, fine,” Madge groused. “Figures Grace would stick us on the noisiest floor. You know she did it on purpose.”
    “Now, Madge, honey,” Harrison began.
    Madge smacked his arm and repeated through clenched teeth, “She did that on purpose, Harry. She’s trying to get me to leave, and I’m warning you, it’s working. If this keeps up, I’m driving straight to a hotel in Tahoe and staying there for the rest of the week. I don’t care how much money she’s promised you. It’s not worth it.”
    Yikes.
Cue the awkward silence. Peter and Sybil exchangeduneasy glances. I didn’t dare make eye contact with any of them, for fear that my absolute disgust for the woman would be clear for all to see.
    “Now, Madge,” Harrison said calmly, “let’s not get carried away. I’m sure the construction was a one-night thing. I’ll speak to Grace.”
    “Construction, my ass,” she muttered.
    Was she really so thickheaded that she didn’t think her comments about money would annoy her husband? Maybe she was born with no filters between her brain and her mouth. Whatever her problem, I really disliked the woman. It didn’t help that in the morning light her stretched neck and facial muscles and overly moisturized skin made her look like a shiny skeleton.
    Note to self: rethink the whole face-lift issue.
Of course, I had never considered getting one, but now I knew why.
    “Grace still likes to experiment with new games,” Peter explained. “She’s always been an insomniac, so I guess she’s been working at night lately. Can’t wait to see what she comes up with.”
    Madge just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard all about her insomnia.”
    Then why couldn’t she have more compassion for her sister-in-law if she knew she was an insomniac? Clearly they weren’t close, but still. The woman was a real jerk.
    Peter’s explanation fit in with Vinnie’s stories of how Grace was always looking for new ways to delight—or
deceive
, as Vinnie put it—her guests with new games and tricks. Suzie had told me that Grace often walked around the house, staring at the walls or gazing at the ceiling, and she was never