Peril in Paperback (15 page)

But she was in her room and answered her bedroom door after one knock. She looked tired and pale.

“Brooklyn,” she said, swinging the door wide. “Come on in.”

“I don’t mean to bother you if you’re trying to rest.”

“Rest? After the past twenty-four hours we’ve had?” Her laugh was devoid of real humor, but she managed a smile for me. “Not likely. Come on in.”

Before I could enter, Stephen Fowler appeared from behind the door and blocked my way. The lawyer looked so aggravated, I took a step back.

“Stephen was just leaving. You
are
finished annoying me, aren’t you, Stephen?” Grace gave him a pointed look.

“Don’t be stupid,” he grumbled, then glowered at me. “This house is full of pain-in-the-ass women.”

“What is wrong with you?” I blurted.

“Shut up,” he muttered, and stormed off down the hall.

I stared at his back, wondering what I had done to bug him this time. But I quickly brushed off the question. The man was pissed off at everyone. He was a born Grinch.

“Don’t mind Stephen,” Grace said. “He fancies himself a Doberman pinscher, but he’s really just an old basset hound.”

More like a slithery snake,
I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. Did she really not see how hateful he was?

“This is a treat,” Grace said. “What did you want to see me about?”

Holding up the book, I said, “I wanted to ask you about this book I found.”

“Oh, book talk. What fun. Come sit down and we’ll have a chat.” She led the way to the sitting area by the curved bay window. “Shelly, do you mind if we sit here while you work?”

“Of course not.” Shelly, a pretty, dark-haired young woman in her twenties, was dressed comfortably in jeans, a striped blouse, and tennis shoes. I was glad Grace wasn’t the sort of person to insist on French maids’ uniforms for her staff. I could picture someone like Madge enforcing that kind of dress code.

Shelly finished stuffing a pillow into a clean pillowcase, then looked at Grace. “Would you rather I come back and do this later?”

Grace turned to me. “Is it something personal or do you mind if Shelly stays and finishes up in here?”

“Oh, please stay,” I said to the woman. “I’m just talking about books.”

“That should perk her up,” Shelly said with a fond smile for her employer. Then she went back to her work.

Grace’s smile widened as she sat in the cushioned chair. “My people know me so well.”

“That’s so nice,” I said, and took a seat on the sofa. “You’re surrounded by friends.”

“I truly am,” she said softly.

“How are you feeling?” I leaned over and touched her hand. “I know you and Bella were old friends.”

“Thank you for that. I swear I’ve aged ten years in two days. I’m not even fifty yet, but…well, this isn’t about me. It’s about poor Bella. It’s just horrible, isn’t it? I can still see her in her chair, sitting right next to me at the séance. She was so full of life, and suddenly she was…lifeless, and…” Grace covered her eyes with her hand, then rubbed her forehead wearily. “And I’m so worried about Marko. They were very close. Marko has always been so flaky, but Bella seemed happy whenever she was with him.”

“I’m so sorry.” I’d already said it before, but couldn’t think of anything better to say.

“Me, too.” Grace shook her head and composed herself. “But that’s enough wallowing for now. Let’s talk about why you came to see me.”

I stared at the book in my hand, but realized there was something else I was dying to know. “Why did you build bookshelves on the ceiling of my room?”

She laughed heartily. “Oh, aren’t they wonderful? I saw something like them in a library on the outskirts of Cairo a few years ago. It was a small building, and in order to use the space wisely they had constructed those panels. They used ropes and pulleys to raise and lower the shelves. When I got home I was itching to design something similar. I think my petals are much prettier, and remote control makes it so easy. I hope you’re enjoying them.”

“I am. Thank you.”

“I’m so glad. I had a friend visiting recently who never even noticed the petals on the ceiling. Can you imagine?
I decided after she left that I would only allow that room to be used by someone with natural curiosity and a love of books. I think that describes you to a T.”

“I’m honored.” We smiled at each other in mutual admiration until I remembered what I was holding. “But that’s not why I’m here. It’s about this.” I handed Grace the book. “Did you know you had this book in your collection?”

She looked at both sides of
Pilgrim’s Progress
, then fanned the pages carefully. Thank goodness she was being careful, because I would’ve hated to rip the book out of her hands.

“I don’t really remember. But it’s nice, isn’t it?” She rubbed at the indentation in the front cover. “Too bad about this dent, though. Do you think you could fix it?”

“Yes, I would love to fix it.” I forged ahead with the truth. “Grace, I found this book in the Gold Salon. It was holding up one of the legs of a table. That’s how the dent got there.”

“Oh, dear.” She sighed. “None of my staff is that silly. It must’ve been one of my nieces.”

“Not Suzie,” I said, horrified that Grace might think my friend would do it.

“Oh, good heavens, no,” Grace said, laughing. “Suzie’s not that dim.”

I laughed with relief. “I’m glad to hear you say so.”

Grace paused, thinking, then said, “It was probably Celeste.”

I had to think for a second before recalling that Kiki had an older sister who couldn’t make it to Grace’s party this week.

“Next time she’s here,” Grace continued, “I’ll tell her to be more careful with my nice things.”

“On behalf of your books, I thank you.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“There’s one other thing I wanted to ask.”

She sat back in her chair. “What is it?”

“I’ve told you before what I think of your collection, right? It needs a little organizing, but the books themselves are fabulous.”

“That means so much to me, coming from you.”

I held out
Pilgrim’s Progress
again. “Grace, you might not realize, but this book is very rare and worth a lot of money. It’s more than two hundred years old. The printer, Isaiah Thomas, is legendary in the history of bookmaking, too. And except for that stupid dent in the cover, the book is in excellent condition. It should be in a museum or a library collection.”

“Well, that’s wonderful.” But she frowned and added, “Do you really think so?”

“I do, yes. If you were willing to part with it, I’m certain the Covington Library would pay a lot of money to have it. And then everyone who visits there could enjoy it.”

As Grace pondered that possibility, I watched Shelly finish straightening up the bedroom area and then open the French doors to the terrace. She grabbed the broom leaning against the bedroom wall and began to sweep the ground, gathering up bits of dirt and grime with a dustbin.

“I’m sorry, Brooklyn,” Grace said finally, “but I don’t think I could ever sell my books. I love having them around me and I just don’t need the money.”

I leaned forward, undaunted. “Then you could make it a loan, or you could simply donate them. Your name would be whispered in reverent tones throughout the halls of the Covington Library forever.”

She laughed. “I do like the sound of that. Let me think about it.”

“I’m only talking about five or six books. Less than ten, anyway.”

“I suppose I should be able to part with ten books. Shouldn’t I?” She shuddered and rubbed her arms briskly. “It’s getting chilly in here.”

“The terrace doors are open,” I said. “Do you want me to close them?” Without waiting for an answer, I stood and walked over to the doorway.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Grace said mildly. “Let Shelly finish out there. She’ll only be another minute.”

Shelly squatted down to sweep the last of the dust into the bin. Then she grabbed hold of the railing to pull herself up.

It was like watching a horror show in stop-action photography. The railing wobbled in Shelly’s hand. Then one end snapped off the stone wall.

Shelly screeched in shock and fear as the entire railing swung out over the ledge with her hanging on precariously.

Grace screamed even louder.

“Hold on!” I cried. I raced out and lunged for the railing itself, but it veered too far from the balcony. I had to scramble backward to keep from falling off the ledge myself.

The other end of the railing was still attached to the opposite wall, but the heavy metal hinge was being pulled away from the stone with every second that passed.

“Help me!” Shelly shrieked as she dangled in the air.

“Keep holding on,” I shouted. “Grace! Call for help!”

Grace ran screaming into the hall.

I grasped the other end of the railing still attached to the wall. The screws were starting to give way from the extra weight of Shelly and the swinging motion of the rail itself. I wasn’t sure I could hold it together.

Seconds later—although it felt like an hour—Gabriel rushed out to the terrace. “Don’t let go,” he told me.

“Hurry!” I said.

Shelly’s screams made it impossible to hear anything, but who could blame her? She was swaying in midair almost three floors above the ground. If she fell, she would break every bone in her body. Or worse.

“Stop crying and listen to me,” Gabriel said in a firm
voice, and Shelly immediately quieted. As he flattened himself out on the terrace floor and stretched one arm over the edge, he continued to speak in a steady, serious tone. “Hold tight to the rail with both hands. I’m going to lift you up and onto the balcony and you’ll be safe. Ready?”

“Yes,” she said, gasping, her eyes wide with panic.

“Here we go.”

He turned and looked at me. “Babe, do me a favor and hold on to my feet. Will you? I’d rather not go sailing off here, too.”

“Okay.” I knelt by his feet and grabbed his boots for dear life. “I’ve got you.”

“That’s my girl. Almost there,” he said, cool and composed, calming Shelly down as he pulled the railing up. Spread out as he was, he had no leverage to work with, only his own upper-body strength.

A few more seconds of lifting and she was close enough for Gabriel to grab hold of her wrists. As he let go of the railing, Shelly squealed, but she was safer now than she’d been a minute ago. The railing tumbled down and clattered against the rocky ground below.

“Oh, my God,” Grace moaned from the safety of the doorway. “Shelly dear, hold on.”

“I’ve got her,” Gabriel shouted. “You’re okay, Shelly. Wrap your hands around my wrists.”

She did so, and he planted his elbows firmly on the stone terrace and used them as leverage to lift Shelly higher. The muscles of his lower arms shook with the strain, but he managed to get her close enough for her to latch onto the ledge.

“Let go of me, Brooklyn,” he said.

I slowly, reluctantly released my grip on his boots, then watched him maneuver himself up onto his knees and pull Shelly all the way onto the floor of the terrace.

Spread-eagled on her stomach, Shelly began to weep and moan. Gabriel rubbed her back. Still on his knees, he
reached down and managed to lift the young woman into his arms, then stand.

The man had some awesome calf and thigh muscles. I’m just saying.

“Get her inside,” Grace said, stepping away from the open door so he could maneuver his way through with Shelly.

Gabriel carried her over to Grace’s couch, where he laid her down. She curled into a ball and sobbed quietly.

“You saved her life,” Grace said, and threw her arms around Gabriel. “That was heroic. She’d be dead if you hadn’t been here and done what you did. I can’t ever thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary,” he said, hugging her back. “I’m glad she’s safe.”

“I am, too,” I said, staring at Shelly on the couch. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

Grace pulled a blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over Shelly. Grabbing some tissues, Grace then knelt on the floor and brushed Shelly’s hair away from her face. “You’re going to be fine, Shelly. I’ve called Ray and he’s on his way back from town. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Who’s Ray?” I asked.

Grace glanced up. “Shelly’s husband. He’s our handyman and takes care of everything around here.”

Gabriel looked at me. “Do you know what happened?”

“Yeah.” We stood on either side of the open doorway and stared at the dangerous spot where the railing had been only moments before. I told him exactly what I’d seen.

Gabriel ventured outside to examine the metal plate that had connected the wood railing to the wall. I inched closer and could see the marks and scrapings from some tool that might have been used to either weaken the screws or pry the plate loose.

“I’ll go downstairs and find what’s left of the railing,”
he said grimly. “I’m willing to bet someone deliberately loosened the screws.”

Grace came and stood in the doorway with her arms wrapped around her body for warmth. “I should’ve replaced that railing last summer.”

I didn’t think she’d heard us talking. “Was it coming loose?”

“No.” Grace frowned and shook her head, looking more confused and older than I’d ever seen her before. “It seemed strong enough a few days ago. But I guess it wasn’t. I feel just awful. She could’ve died. What in the world is happening around here?”

Gabriel gazed out at the view. “Do you go out on the balcony often, Grace?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “I love it. I usually have a chaise longue out there, but it’s been put away for the winter. But I can stay out there for hours, just staring at the lake and the mountains and the stars. Even on the coldest days of winter, it’s beautiful.”

“Then you’ll want to get this fixed as soon as possible.” Gabriel ushered us both inside and closed and locked the doors. Then he glanced at me. “Maybe you should stick around here while I go downstairs and check things out.”

“Good idea. Let me know what you find.”

“Oh, you must have better things to do,” Grace said, squeezing my arm affectionately. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to read and watch over Shelly until she’s feeling better.”