Peril in Paperback: A Bibliophile Mystery

really radical face-lift. Scary.
    So she was angry
and
vain. And she reminded me of someone else in my life. Was I staring into the future? Was this how my worst enemy and true world-class bitch, Minka LaBoeuf, would look at age fifty?
    Minka had been a thorn in my side since college. Worse than a thorn; she was a big, ugly spike. Over the years I had tangled with her, even trading punches a few times. Minka was a horrible person, and this woman standing in front of me was chillingly similar to her.
    Oh, dear. I couldn’t imagine living in the same house with Minka for a whole freaking week, so there was no way in hell I was going to put up with this lady’s negative vibe for that long.
    “Look, I’m Brooklyn Wainwright,” I said patiently. “I’m a friend of—”
    She grunted derisively. “I know who you are. Little Suzie’s told us all about you.”
    I took a step back. “You have the advantage, then,” I said, trying to match her supercilious tone. As I turned to leave, I added, “Sorry I interrupted your dramatic little moment.”
    “Wait. How the hell do I get out of here?”
    “Not my problem.”
    “No, wait! I really am lost.”
    “You’ll find your way.” I kept walking. She wasn’t about to apologize for being a haughty cow, so why should I help her? Besides, it was just a long walk down the hall back to the grand stairway. It’s not like we were trapped in a cave or anything. She wasn’t really
lost
.
    “I’m sorry,” she whined.
    Huh?
I took another step but then stopped. It was an apology, albeit a pathetic one. So I faced her and asked, “Where are you trying to get to?”
    She fisted her hands against her hips. “There’s supposed to be a hallway leading to the back of the house. It was there yesterday. But now it stops right here.” She shook her finger at the solid wall; then her shoulders drooped in defeat. “Never mind. I can see you don’t believe me. I don’t believe it myself.”
    I shrugged. “I just arrived a little while ago, but I do know that the front door is back that way.” I pointed down the hall, then nodded toward a closed door a few yards away in the opposite direction. “And the library is right in there. Maybe there’s a door inside that leads out to the hall you’re thinking of.”
    “I doubt it,” she said. Her forehead furrowed as she glanced around in several directions. She pursed her lips—which couldn’t have been easy with her skin pulled back so tightly—and made a decision. “I’ll go to the front door and start over.” She walked past me, then sighed and turned. “I’m Madge Crawford. My husband, Harrison, is Grace’s older brother.”
    “Nice to meet you,” I lied, and thought to myself,
Poor Harrison
. But then my conscience got to me. Maybe she was just stressed out. Maybe all that tight facial skin had given her a permanent migraine.
    “Look, we got off on the wrong foot,” I said, seeking peace. “Why don’t we—”
    “Really?” She rolled her eyes. “We’re still chatting? Is this what I’ll have to deal with all week?” Then sheturned and stalked away down the hall. I sent off a fervent prayer that she would get lost permanently.
    “Yoo-hoo. Over here, Brooklyn.” Vinnie waved as I walked into the sunny conservatory. “How is Derek?”
    “Oh. He’s…um, fine, I guess,” I muttered, my head still swirling with negativity. The only good news about running into nasty Madge was that I’d forgotten all about the ugly phone call with the Belgian bimbo. I’d spent my entire walk to the conservatory mentally grousing about Harrison Crawford’s unpleasant wife.
    But now I stopped, made a slow circle, and took in my surroundings. “What a beautiful room.”
    Suzie nodded. “Cool, isn’t it?”
    “It is my favorite place in this monstrous house of tricks,” Vinnie said cheerfully.
    “I can see why,” I said, staring up at the tempered-glass ceiling. “It’s wonderful.”
    “At least there’s nothing hanging up there, ready to snare you,” Vinnie muttered, casting a quick glimpse upward.
    It was as magical as any world-class botanical garden I’d ever visited, except smaller. With an iron frame and glass walls, the Victorian-styled structure was about the size of a small gymnasium. A pea-gravel path wound its way around dozens of exotic plants and trees. In front of each flourishing plant was a tasteful bronze plaque identifying it and its country of origin, along with a list of any