Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

do,” Grace said, squeezing my arm affectionately. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to read and watch over Shelly until she’s feeling better.”
    But I wasn’t so sure Grace would be fine. I was pretty sure someone wanted her dead.

Chapter 8
     
    The good news was, Shelly felt a lot better and begged Grace to continue with her plans for the talent show.
    The bad news was, Shelly felt a lot better and begged Grace to continue with her plans for the talent show.
    It was bad news because I still didn’t have any talent. But I was happy Shelly was feeling better after the horrible ordeal she’d been through.
    We had all decided not to say anything to the other guests about Shelly and the railing incident. It would upset them and it would alert Grace’s would-be killer that his or her scheme had been thwarted again.
    Shelly’s husband, Ray, had shown up finally, worried sick about her. Shelley had assured him that she was fine, but Ray insisted on carrying her back to their small suite of rooms on the third floor. Shelly flung her arms around his neck as they left Grace’s bedroom.
    It was a sweet sight and, like I said, I was happy for her. But seeing the two of them together had brought the Derek issue back to the forefront. He wasn’t here with me and, worse, he hadn’t called. I could’ve gone a few more hours without being reminded of that hurtful little detail.
    So maybe drowning my sorrows in the talent showwas the best thing I could do right now. If only I had some talent.
    It was getting late and I needed help. I went looking for Suzie and Vinnie and finally found Suzie in a corner of the game room, standing before a vintage pinball machine called Theatre of Magic. The game field featured an exotic-looking fortune-teller with a crystal ball, a Bengal tiger stalking the red-curtained stage, and lots of white rabbits that had escaped from a magical top hat.
    “How’s it going?” I asked.
    “I’m winning,” she said, and shoved her hip against the machine to force the silver ball to hit another rabbit. That won her another three thousand points. Must’ve been some rabbit.
    While she played, I took a stroll around the game room for the first time and finally got a look at the dreaded mouse cage. It was bigger than I’d expected and hung from the ceiling, ready to fall and trap its next victim. Vinnie had not been exaggerating. The gold mesh cage was attached to a thick wire and was suspended above an empty corner of the room. It was maybe five feet across and tall enough for a six-foot man to stand inside it if it were on the ground.
    The clinging and clanging of the pinball machine died down as the game ended. Suzie turned and noticed what I was staring at. “Yup, that’s the offending cage. Don’t let Vinnie catch you looking at it.”
    “Impressive,” I said, staring up at the strange prop. “Does it really fall down and trap people?”
    “Yeah. But it’s never hurt anyone,” she added in defense of her aunt.
    I walked closer. “There must be some kind of electronic signal that activates it.”
    “I think so. Brooklyn, don’t get too close.”
    “I’m okay.” I got as close as I could without standing directly under the cage. Then I looked up. “There’s got to be a path of light that triggers the cage to fall when it’s interrupted.”
    “Like an automatic toilet?”
    I gave her a wry look. “Something like that, although I was thinking more along the lines of an automatic soap dispenser.”
    She splayed her hands out. “But I’m a lot classier than you are.”
    I smiled. “True. And since you’re so classy, I could really use your help.”
    “What? Is something wrong?”
    “No, no. Well, sort of.” Feeling a tiny bit embarrassed now, I fiddled with the knobs on the pinball game. “I’ve been searching my brain, trying to come up with something to do for the talent show. But I’ve got nothing.”
    She scrunched her face up, trying to think. “You could give bookbinding lessons.”
    I stopped and stared at her. “Really?”
    She snorted with laughter.
    “So I guess that’s a no.”
    Rolling her eyes, she said, “Uh, yeah, Brooklyn, that would be a no.”
    “Fine.” I thought for a minute. “I know. I can regale the crowd with my duct-tape horror stories.”
    She stared at me blankly.
    I frowned. “So that’s also a big fat no?”
    “Good guess,” she said.
    “You’re not helping.”
    “Sorry.” She gave the pinball machine one more bump for good