Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

when she reached for her cocktail.
    I mentioned that to Detective Pentley, who wrote everything down in minute detail.
    I told him that Vinnie, Suzie, and I were the ones who had wrapped Bella in the sheet and he asked me why we’d decided to do that. I confessed that I’d been involved in a few crime scenes and I’d learned how important it was to preserve as much evidence as possible, including anything that might turn up on the body itself.
    I gave him the names and phone numbers of detective inspectors Janice Lee and Nathan Jaglom, the San Francisco detectives I’d worked with on numerous occasions. He seemed impressed by my answers. I hoped he was,because I truly lived to impress the police with my knowledge of crime-scene procedure.
    Then Pentley asked me how well I knew Gabriel.
    “Very well.”
    “Are you lovers?”
    “No.”
    “Why not? He’s a good-looking guy.”
    “He’s gorgeous,” I said agreeably. “But he’s not mine. I’ve got one of my own, thanks.”
    “And where is he?” Pentley asked as his eyes narrowed in on me. Was he trying to penetrate my soul? It bugged me, for some reason.
    “Is that any of your business?”
    “Depends.”
    “Right,” I said. “Look, Gabriel is a good friend of mine. And it’s a fact that he didn’t even arrive until after Bella was dead.”
    Pentley scowled, knowing that was the bottom line.
    I went on to vouch for Gabriel’s integrity, compliment his supervision of the postmortem activities, and gush about his overall honesty. (That might have been a stretch, given the book-theft incident.)
    I suggested that Pentley contact Derek Stone, former British naval commander and MI6 agent, if he wanted another, better reference for Gabriel’s excellent and extensive experience in dealing with criminal behavior (on the good guys’ side).
    I didn’t mention that Derek was my boyfriend, deciding that that was something else that was none of his business.
    “I don’t know what we would have done if Gabriel hadn’t shown up when he did last night.”
    Pentley gave me a look so sharp, it made me wonder if I shouldn’t be thinking about lining up my own good references. But he finally finished his questioning and told me I was free to leave the room.
    After two hours of interviews, the police spent anotherhour taking their own photographs and collecting as much evidence as they could find in the Red Room. As Pentley and Graves packed up their gear, Gabriel handed Pentley the plastic bags containing the cyanide-coated broken glass, the liquid from Bella’s cocktail glass, and the cocktail glass itself.
    “What the hell?” Pentley said, and shoved the bags into Graves’s hands. Seniority had its benefits, apparently.
    At the front door, Pentley issued one last warning: we were not allowed to enter the séance room or leave Grace’s property until the police returned to clear them.
    “It might be a few days,” Graves added.
    “We’ll be in touch,” Pentley said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
    As they walked out, I looked around the room at the numb faces of the guests. The cops’ warning had served to remind me—as if I needed reminding—that one of my fellow guests had been murdered last night. And, in turn, that meant that one of the people in this room was a murderer.
    Cozy thought.
    I scanned their faces again. I barely knew most of Grace’s guests, so my sympathy fell on Grace and the people who had known Bella best. I could truly imagine the heartache and fear and guilt Grace was dealing with right now, after having a good friend die in her home. I had dealt with similar feelings of guilt before.
    Absently, I checked my watch. It was a few minutes past noon. The police had been here for more than four hours.
    “Well, that was unpleasant,” Grace said soberly, standing up to address her friends and relatives. “I can apologize from now until kingdom come, but I’ll never be able to make it up to all of you. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to pack up and leave, but it seems you’re all stuck here with me.”
    “None of this was your fault, Aunt Grace,” Suzie said in protest. “We’re all happy to stay and celebrate your birthday week.”
    “That’s right,” Kiki said.
    I raised my hand. “I’m having a marvelous time.”
    “I wouldn’t leave even if I could,” Harrison said stoutly.
    I caught Madge rolling her eyes in disgust.
    There were other positive comments, though I didn’t hear any from Sybil Brinker