Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

interrogated anyone lately. Well, I gave Sybil some grief last night. And there’s always Madge.”
    His gaze met mine and he nodded. “She was pissed off enough to kill.”
    “Plus, apparently she goes bird watching.” I shook my head. “That probably means nothing. But then there’s Ruth. I think Vinnie and I interrupted her while she was doing something she didn’t want anyone to see. She was carrying a shovel from the conservatory shed and I think there was blood on the tip of it.” I gave him the details of our conversation with Ruth out in the woods.
    “Maybe you should take the hint,” he said. “Get out. Go home. You’ll be safer. Hell, Stone would have my ass if you got hurt out here.”
    “Derek Stone isn’t here and he hasn’t called either.” I sniffed once, then stiffened my resolve. I pushed myself out of the comfortable chair and began to pace around the room. “Let’s agree not to worry about what Derek Stone will think.”
    “Babe.” He stood and stopped me in my path, grabbing both my arms and pulling me into his embrace. It was strictly for comfort, and I was pitifully grateful.
    “Besides, the police told us we had to stay.”
    “That means nothing if your life is in danger.”
    I nodded and rested my cheek against the soft fabric of his denim shirt. Once again, as he’d done on several occasions this week, he stroked my back slowly, rhythmically, as though he were trying to soothe a baby.
    “What shall we do with the bird?” I asked finally.
    “I’ll take it out to the woods and dump it.”
    I eased myself back from him. “I’ll admit I’m afraid. Anyone who would kill a bird to frighten me is a scary, screwed-up person. But I’m not leaving.”
    He took hold of my arm and led me back to the chair. I sat again, feeling more tired than ever.
    “Look,” he said, sitting on the table in front of my chair. “That bird was frozen and as stiff as a board. It’s probably been dead for days. The killer must’ve found it in the snow and decided to have some fun with it.”
    “Some fun,” I said, and shivered.
    “All I’m saying is, whoever did this isn’t as desperate or bloodthirsty a character as you think. Screwed up, yes. But this was just an accident of fate. Or convenience, more likely. He stumbled on the bird in the woods and saw it as an easy opportunity to frighten you. That’s all. Whoever it is isn’t a seasoned killer. He’s not very smart, either. If and when we can get the police up here, they’ll take the box and find it littered with fingerprints. Then we’ll nail whoever did it.”
    “Well, that’s something.” I gazed up at him. “Thank you, Gabriel. I feel a lot safer having you around here.”
    Instead of smiling, he looked more concerned than ever.
    “What is it?” I said. “Now what’s wrong? You might as well tell me because I’ll hound you if you don’t.”
    “I know, and that’s the only reason I’m showing you this.” He took a breath, then opened the box again and pulled something out of it. “I found this underneath all that paper.” He held up a Ziploc bag. Inside it was some kind of playing card. I looked closer. It was the Tower card from Grace’s tarot deck.
    “Chaos,” I whispered.
    By the time we sat down to another formal dinner that night, so much snow had fallen that the drifts had started to cover the downstairs windows. We hadn’t lost power yet, but it could happen.
    My thoughts were so scattered that I could barely focus on much of anything. But the thought of losing power was scaring me. I wasn’t worried about the possibility of being trapped in the house with a killer, nor didI really care if we lost the electricity for a while. I didn’t even care if we ran out of food. No, I was scared to death that if Derek tried to call me now, he wouldn’t be able to get through.
    Okay, running out of food was a close second.
    But the very fact that food wasn’t my prime concern only proved how twisted up I was inside. Maybe the dead bird had pushed me over the edge.
    The only good news was that since my little emotional breakdown in front of Gabriel earlier that morning—gosh, it felt like that had happened days ago—I’d been much more successful at hiding my irrational feelings from others. I knew I’d been successful because Vinnie hadn’t seemed concerned about me at all. And Vinnie, more than anyone I knew (except my mother), was highly sensitive to the moods of others. So that’s why I