Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

Madge is so negative. She says the most hideous things. Being around her is a constant chore.”
    Still anxious, she stood and began to pace. “I had no choice but to invite Madge, but I decided to keep her in line by bringing Stephen out here. I thought if Madge believed I was changing my will, she would be on her best behavior. In theory, anyway. She’s still a royal pain in the ass.”
    Suzie nodded. “You got that right.”
    “I realize Stephen is simply atrocious, too,” Grace said. “He’s been so nasty to my guests. But how could I toss him out when that was the very reason I’d invited him? He kept threatening to leave and I kept telling him he couldn’t.”
    “Maybe he did leave,” Vinnie said.
    I shook my head. “All his things are still in his room.”
    Grace’s expression fell. “So he really is missing.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    But I was sorrier about something else. While I was glad to know that Grace wasn’t really changing her will, I was now concerned that her attempt to thwart Madge might have had unintended consequences. What if Madge had arrived for the house party, seen the lawyer, jumped to the obvious conclusion, and decided to try to kill Grace before she had a chance to change her will?
    I glanced at Gabriel. He must have been thinking thesame thing, because he nodded briefly. But then he scowled. “Fowler couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air. And he’d be a fool to wander outside in this weather.”
    “It wasn’t too bad earlier,” I said, then suddenly pictured Ruth and that bloody shovel. Had she lured Stephen Fowler into the woods, then smashed in his head and buried him? Was that why she was so unnerved when Vinnie and I came across her in the woods?
    I shook my head, stunned by the direction of my own thoughts. That theory was not only absurd; it was impossible. The weight differential alone would prohibit petite Ruth from dragging Stephen’s inert body through the snow to a shallow grave and pushing him into it.
    Gabriel took charge again. “The four of us will search the house one more time this evening, only we’ll each take different floors. We can’t go outside in this weather tonight, so first thing in the morning I’ll arrange for a group to search the property.”
    “It might be time to call the police again,” I said.
    Gabriel nodded. “It would be nice to get them involved in the search for Stephen, but I doubt they’ll be able to make it out here with all the snow. Pretty sure we’re on our own for a few days.”
    “We’re on our own,” Grace whispered. “All alone.”
    Her words were like icicles, drip-drip-dripping down my spine.
    That night in my room, I decided to call my mother. After that dead-bird incident, I needed some revitalizing energy, and my mom was the best one to go to for that.
    She answered the phone and I said, “Hi, Mom. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
    “We just got into bed. What’s wrong? Something’s wrong.”
    “Can’t I just call my parents to say hi?”
    “Yes, you can, sweetie, and you do all the time. But I can hear a strain in your voice. Do you need an enema?I can recommend one that only takes two heaping scoops of espresso shaken with a pint of mineral oil.”
    I laughed to keep from gagging. “Thanks for that, Mom. But no.” Seriously? An espresso enema? No wonder she had so much energy every day.
    I reminded her of the house party and gave her a brief rundown of the week’s events without going into too much detail. Such as various acts of mayhem and murder.
    “You should get away from there,” she said.
    “We’re snowed in for a few days.”
    “Oh, dear. I can hear in your voice how much negativity is bombarding you.”
    “Well, it’s a beautiful place and most of the people are really wonderful, but…well, I just thought I’d call and say hi. I should let you get to sleep.”
    I heard her say something to my father, but her voice was muffled. Then she came back on. “Brooklyn, it’s a wild coincidence, but I was just working on a new protective spell this afternoon. Put me on the speakerphone. You’ll need both hands for this.”
    Oh, boy.
    She had me sit in a comfortable chair with my hands resting on the arms and my eyes closed. I placed my phone on the coffee table before me.
    Then she began to chant. “Oi! Ahh! Ron-jon-manna-roo-a-panja! Oi! Ahh! Ron-jon-manna-roo-a-panja!”
    At least that’s what it sounded like to me. She repeated the phrase a few hundred times