Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

brushed off the question. The man was pissed off at everyone. He was a born Grinch.
    “Don’t mind Stephen,” Grace said. “He fancies himself a Doberman pinscher, but he’s really just an old basset hound.”
    More like a slithery snake,
I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Did she really not see how hateful he was?
    “This is a treat,” Grace said. “What did you want to see me about?”
    Holding up the book, I said, “I wanted to ask you about this book I found.”
    “Oh, book talk. What fun. Come sit down and we’ll have a chat.” She led the way to the sitting area by the curved bay window. “Shelly, do you mind if we sit here while you work?”
    “Of course not.” Shelly, a pretty, dark-haired young woman in her twenties, was dressed comfortably in jeans, a striped blouse, and tennis shoes. I was glad Grace wasn’t the sort of person to insist on French maids’ uniforms for her staff. I could picture someone like Madge enforcing that kind of dress code.
    Shelly finished stuffing a pillow into a clean pillowcase, then looked at Grace. “Would you rather I come back and do this later?”
    Grace turned to me. “Is it something personal or do you mind if Shelly stays and finishes up in here?”
    “Oh, please stay,” I said to the woman. “I’m just talking about books.”
    “That should perk her up,” Shelly said with a fond smile for her employer. Then she went back to her work.
    Grace’s smile widened as she sat in the cushioned chair. “My people know me so well.”
    “That’s so nice,” I said, and took a seat on the sofa. “You’re surrounded by friends.”
    “I truly am,” she said softly.
    “How are you feeling?” I leaned over and touched her hand. “I know you and Bella were old friends.”
    “Thank you for that. I swear I’ve aged ten years in two days. I’m not even fifty yet, but…well, this isn’t about me. It’s about poor Bella. It’s just horrible, isn’t it? I can still see her in her chair, sitting right next to me at the séance. She was so full of life, and suddenly she was…lifeless, and…” Grace covered her eyes with her hand, then rubbed her forehead wearily. “And I’m so worried about Marko. They were very close. Marko has always been so flaky, but Bella seemed happy whenever she was with him.”
    “I’m so sorry.” I’d already said it before, but couldn’t think of anything better to say.
    “Me, too.” Grace shook her head and composed herself. “But that’s enough wallowing for now. Let’s talk about why you came to see me.”
    I stared at the book in my hand, but realized there was something else I was dying to know. “Why did you build bookshelves on the ceiling of my room?”
    She laughed heartily. “Oh, aren’t they wonderful? I saw something like them in a library on the outskirts of Cairo a few years ago. It was a small building, and in order to use the space wisely they had constructed those panels. They used ropes and pulleys to raise and lower the shelves. When I got home I was itching to design something similar. I think my petals are much prettier, and remote control makes it so easy. I hope you’re enjoying them.”
    “I am. Thank you.”
    “I’m so glad. I had a friend visiting recently who never even noticed the petals on the ceiling. Can you imagine?I decided after she left that I would only allow that room to be used by someone with natural curiosity and a love of books. I think that describes you to a T.”
    “I’m honored.” We smiled at each other in mutual admiration until I remembered what I was holding. “But that’s not why I’m here. It’s about this.” I handed Grace the book. “Did you know you had this book in your collection?”
    She looked at both sides of
Pilgrim’s Progress
, then fanned the pages carefully. Thank goodness she was being careful, because I would’ve hated to rip the book out of her hands.
    “I don’t really remember. But it’s nice, isn’t it?” She rubbed at the indentation in the front cover. “Too bad about this dent, though. Do you think you could fix it?”
    “Yes, I would love to fix it.” I forged ahead with the truth. “Grace, I found this book in the Gold Salon. It was holding up one of the legs of a table. That’s how the dent got there.”
    “Oh, dear.” She sighed. “None of my staff is that silly. It must’ve been one of my nieces.”
    “Not Suzie,” I said, horrified that Grace might think my friend would do it.
    “Oh, good