Peril in Paperback (22 page)

“Oh, God.” My stomach twisted from the guilt and I grabbed Vinnie’s wrist to stop her from bolting out of the room. “I don’t know why I said that. You’re not keeping me from any work, Vinnie. I’d much rather hang out with you than work.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely.” The gentle snowfall caught my attention and an idea popped into my head. “How about if we bundle up in our heaviest jackets and scarves and go for a walk in the woods?”

“That sounds wonderful. A change of environment is always a good thing and we’ll work up an appetite for lunch.”

I rubbed my stomach. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

We both ran off to our rooms to grab our coats, then met five minutes later by the front door.

“Grace told me to take anything we wanted from the front closet,” Vinnie said, opening the closet door. “She has everything in here. Down vests and hats and mittens and scarves and gloves.”

“Good, because these gloves won’t be warm enough.” I pulled off my thin leather gloves, shoved them in my coat pocket, and found some arctic gloves on the closet shelf that fitted me perfectly. San Francisco could get pretty cold, but it was nothing compared to the frigid air up here in the mountains. Considering that, I took one of Grace’s thick down vests off the hanger and slipped it on under my coat.

“I’m ready,” I announced. I probably looked like the Abominable Snowman, but I would keep warm.

“Here we go,” Vinnie said, and we traipsed outside.

The freezing air was a shock to my lungs, so I breathed in and out slowly until I was used to it. The snow crunched under our feet as we walked along the lake for a good distance. We turned and strolled back toward the house, then veered off into the woods. There was a nicely marked pathway through the trees so we wouldn’t get lost.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Vinnie said.

“Do you and Suzie come up here often?”

“About once every month or so. Suzie and Grace are very close. Despite what I say about Grace, she’s very good to Suzie and I love her for that. Suzie worries that the rest of the family isn’t quite as nice to Grace as they should be.”

“I don’t know them all, but I would hate to be forced to spend time with Harrison’s wife.”

“Madge is appalling,” Vinnie said, “but her kids are lovely. Kiki is very sweet. She inherited her easygoing attitude from Harrison.”

“I’m glad,” I said. “It would be awful to have more than one of Madge’s kind around.”

“It would be unbearable,” she agreed.

At the sound of clomping footsteps we both turned. From deep within the trees Ruth stomped through the snow, carrying the same sharp-bladed shovel I’d seen Ray using yesterday in the conservatory. The edges were now coated with something dark. Dirt? Or was it blood? I swallowed convulsively.

“Hello, Ruth,” Vinnie said cheerily.

“Oh!” Ruth gasped, then patted her chest. “Oh, Vinnie, you startled me. And Brooklyn. Hello, you two. My goodness, I never expect to see anyone out for a walk in the woods.”

“Have you been digging?” Vinnie asked innocently.

“What?” Her face was blank for a momen; then she flinched as she realized what Vinnie was talking about.
“Oh, the shovel. Yes. I had to bury something. I mean, nothing, really.”

Was it something? Or nothing? What had Ruth been burying? A cassava root? A body? A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

Ruth seemed so preoccupied and worried that I finally asked, “Is everything all right?”

“Oh. Yes.” Her hands flitted about. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’m nervous as a bird. There are so many people up here this week. We usually live so quietly. But then again, maybe it’s just the snow. I grew up in Florida so the cold weather catches me by surprise every year.”

“It would stagger me every day,” Vinnie said. “It rarely snows in my hometown in India.”

I clapped my hands together to warm them up. “We’ve been known to get a little dusting in Sonoma, but it melts quickly.”

We stared at each other in silence for a moment, watching our breaths turn to puffs of fog in the subzero air.

“Would you two like to see where I live?” Ruth asked.

“I would love to,” I said immediately, and Vinnie nodded in agreement.

“It’s this way.” She headed back the way she’d come. She dragged the shovel behind her, creating a shallow trough in the fresh snow.

It gave me the creeps until I realized we would be able to follow the trough back to the walking path. Had Ruth done it on purpose, then? Or was she using the snow to effectively wash blood off the shovel blade?

And there went my imagination again.

We tramped about a hundred yards through the trees until we reached a small clearing. Ruth’s house was in the center. It was an adorable dollhouse version of Grace’s Victorian castle.

“Come in,” she said, holding the door open for us.

Vinnie hesitated. “You don’t have any sliding panels or trapdoors in here, do you?”

Ruth laughed heartily. “No, thank goodness. Grace was good enough to limit her architectural peculiarities to her own house.”

I walked inside Ruth’s home and was instantly charmed. The front room was cozy and inviting, with mahogany paneling and a round, used-brick fireplace in the corner. A small but efficient fire was going, filling the space with warmth.

The furnishings were simple but comfortable. A wide bar separated the front room from the narrow, Pullman-style kitchen. Cheery yellow curtains hung over the windows. An alcove across from the main sitting area held bookcases and a chintz-covered chair with a floor lamp for reading.

“It’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said, looking around. “I love it here. There are two bedrooms down the hall and a good-sized bathroom. It’s the best of all worlds. I have my privacy and plenty of room for my art. Plus I’m welcome to spend all the time I want in the main house.”

“Especially around mealtime, right?”

“Absolutely,” she said, laughing with me. “I never miss one of Chef Tang’s meals if I can help it.”

The snow was falling more rapidly now, so I said, “We should probably get back to the house before we’re snowed in.”

“You’re right, Brooklyn,” Vinnie said. “Suzie will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

Ruth buttoned up her coat. “I’ll walk with you. I was on my way to the house when I ran into you.”

She led the way outside and grabbed the shovel before taking us back to the pathway. I was having a hard time reconciling the possibility that Ruth, a seemingly delightful woman and good friend of Grace’s, might be a cold-blooded murderer. But why had she handed Grace
a drink laced with cyanide? And why had she ordered more weed killer? And what had she really 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.

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 center
module 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 for you.”

I opened the door. “A package? Who would send me anything here?”

“It doesn’t say who it’s from, but I found it inside the mailbox,” she said. Then with excitement brimming in her voice, she asked, “Is it your birthday?

Frowning, I said, “Um, no. Thanks, Merrilee.”

I took the box from her and she waved and strolled away. Closing the door, I stared at the box. It was similar in size and shape to a shoe box, and it was wrapped in brown postal paper. It was addressed to me, care of Grace Crawford, with her address printed in large block letters. But there were no stamps, no return address, and that was a big fat red flag waving in my face. I knew I
should toss it out the window or call the bomb squad. And maybe I would later. But right now I was too curious to find out what was inside it.

Curiosity was quickly becoming my Achilles’ heel. I knew it. Nevertheless, I shook the box. There was definitely something inside. It moved around slightly, but it sounded like it was well protected with paper or Styrofoam pellets. It was heavy enough that I thought it might be a book. Maybe one of the guests had hidden a valuable book in their room, thinking they would steal it, but their conscience had gotten the best of them and they’d sent it to me anonymously. It was possible.

I wouldn’t know unless I opened it. I looked for an edge in order to begin ripping off the paper, then stopped and stared again at the empty space on the box where a return address should have been. And reconsidered.

I pulled out my cell phone and punched in Gabriel’s number.

“Babe,” he said on answering. “What’s up? Where are you?”

“Do you have a minute?” I asked. “Could you come to my room?”

“Be there in sixty seconds.”

He hung up and I resumed breathing. My insides glowed at the fact that he hadn’t even asked why. He had just agreed to come when I called. He really was a true friend and I was so grateful that he was here this week with me. Maybe I was kidding myself, but his presence made me feel much safer.

Less than a minute later, there was a brief knock on the door; then Gabriel opened it and slipped inside. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Thank you so much for coming.” I held out the box. “Somebody just sent me a present.”

“Give it to me.”

I handed him the box and watched him search the paper for a hint of its contents. He shook it, turned it upside down, held it up to his ear and listened.

“It’s probably nothing,” I said.

“Who knows you’re here?”

“Well, everyone staying in the house, of course. My mom and dad. Derek. Well, sort of. He knew I was coming here for the week with Suzie and Vinnie. He just doesn’t know exactly where here is.”

“Right.” Gabriel nodded, then placed the box on the dresser surface. He pulled a small switchblade out of his pocket and sliced away the thick brown paper. Sure enough, it was a simple shoe box from a well-known company.

He looked up. “I doubt there are shoes inside.”

“Me, too,” I said.

I stood beside him as he pulled off the top, then slammed it closed.