Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

been burying with that shovel?
    Once again, I was stymied by too many questions but determined to find the answers before one more person in Grace’s house was injured or killed.

Chapter 11
     
    On the way back to my room, I had a sudden brainstorm and detoured up the stairs to Grace’s room.
    She was wearing her bathrobe when she opened the door. “Brooklyn, I was just resting up before getting dressed for the evening. Come in.”
    “Sorry to interrupt.”
    “Don’t be silly.” She pulled me into the room and closed the door behind me. “I welcome the interruption.”
    “Thank you.” I strolled to the window and gazed at the calm surface of the lake. Then I turned and said, “It occurred to me while I was getting lost in one of your hallways this morning that you might be able to help solve our mystery.”
    She pressed her palm to her cheek, trying to look embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry you got lost.”
    “Oh, sure you are,” I said, teasing her. “I think you love doing that. But it was a little freaky. I didn’t know which way to turn. You had new walls, new carpeting, new lighting fixtures, holograms.” I glanced at her. “The holograms are really cool.”
    She smiled gleefully. “Aren’t they?” Then she sobered. “Some people think I should go back to my real job instead of toodling around here, looking for new ways to torment my guests.”
    “You’ve worked your entire life,” I said. “Now you’re retired and entitled to do whatever you want.”
    “That’s what Ruth says.” Absently, she grabbed a lipstick off the bureau, stared into the full-length wall mirror, and applied a thin coating of a shiny, pink-tinged red color to her lips. “Now, what can I do to help?”
    I paced the floor nearby. “It occurred to me that you might have cameras installed in some of the hallways so you can check to make sure your new designs and holograms are working.”
    Through the mirror, her gaze met mine. “I might.”
    “I’m not judging,” I added quickly. “Just trying to see if your camera caught sight of a killer.”
    She flinched slightly at the word
killer
, then nodded. “Let’s find out.”
    I followed her to the wall beyond her sitting room where a Monet painting hung, its muted pastel brushstrokes forming a pale lily afloat on a green pond. Grace pressed a corner of the heavily gilded frame and the entire wall panel slid sideways.
    “In here,” she said, and disappeared into the darkness.
    My nerves screamed
Danger!
but I followed her, anyway, taking care with each step, praying I wouldn’t step on the wrong patch of carpet and vanish through some trap in the floor.
    Grace flicked a switch and the windowless room lit up to reveal her secret lair. Along the far wall was a massive architect’s table with a high stool where Grace dreamed up her ideas. Charcoal renderings of various room designs were tacked to the wall above the desk. Supplies and tools were lined up neatly along the table’s edges.
    But the real action took place in the center of the room, where an ultramodern circular computerized control panel stood, as sophisticated and futuristic as anything NASA or Hollywood might dream up.
    “Wow,” I said, turning in a circle to take it all in.
    “It’s fun, isn’t it?” Grace took her seat in the centermodule and began tapping keys on four different computers. “Sit here, Brooklyn,” she said, patting the chair next to her. “Let’s see what we can see.”
    An hour and a half later, I was back in my room, dressing for dinner. My vision was still a little fuzzy. Grace and I had fast-forwarded through four days of grainy videos, each of us keeping a sharp eye on two computer screens at a time. She had cameras trained on the four different hallways on three floors where her guests and staff passed freely all day long. Much of the action had streamed past me in a blur.
    Several times, though, I’d slowed down the video to watch more carefully when a guest’s movements caused me to suspect him or her of illicit behavior. But sadly, there was nothing sinister to be found on any of them.
    As I finished buttoning my navy silk blouse, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I almost shouted out for the person to come in, but given the mischief that had been happening over the past few days, I decided not to take a chance on letting some killer into my room. Instead, I walked over to the closed door and said, “Who is it?”
    “It’s Merrilee. I have a package