Peril in Paperback (6 page)

As we reached the ground floor and moved en masse toward the dining room, Suzie sidled up next to me and whispered, “I’m officially pissed off.”

“Why?” I asked, concerned for her.

“See that guy in the boring gray suit?” She pointed out a man fast-walking ahead of us halfway down the hall. Hunched shoulders, small balding head. Then he turned and I saw the scowl on his pinched face.

“Whoa,” I whispered. “Who is that?” He looked like a cartoon character, the smarmy kind of guy who would steal milk bottles from babies. Even from behind he looked disagreeable.

“Yeah,” Suzie said with a knowing nod. “That’s Grace’s lawyer. I didn’t know he’d be here. He’s the biggest jerk. The fact that he’s here tells me Grace must be planning to make some changes to her estate.”

“Are you worried?”

“Of course she’s not worried,” Vinnie said. She had somehow materialized on my other side. “Suzie is Grace’s favorite niece. She would never cut her out of the will.”

“Don’t let Kiki hear you say that,” Suzie muttered. “She thinks she’s the favorite.”

“Kiki is a nice girl, but Grace loves you best.”

Kiki was Suzie’s younger cousin. I’d met her earlier and liked her immediately. She was a few years younger than Suzie and shared her semi-warped sense of humor. She seemed sweet and was frankly beautiful in a clean, wholesome way, with long dark hair and big blue eyes.

It had been a shock to find out during the cocktail party that Kiki’s mother was Madge Crawford, the ill-tempered woman I’d met in the hall earlier.
Poor Kiki,
I thought,
having to grow up with a mother like that.
But, thank goodness, she seemed to have inherited her father’s genial attitude.

Kiki’s father, Harrison Crawford, was Grace’s older brother. There was another sister, Jeannie, who was my friend Suzie’s mom. But Jeannie had passed away five years ago.

Vinnie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “That Fowler man is not a nice person. I ran into him earlier this afternoon and he accused me of stealing his newspaper. Can you imagine? He cursed at me like a Bangalore cabbie.”

“Damn,” Suzie said. “I was watching him at the party and he glowered at anyone who tried to greet him. I actually saw him push one of the other men out of the way when he went to the bar. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he’s the one trying to convince Grace to make changes to her estate, just to be spiteful.”

He looked creepy, all right, but I would reserve my final opinion until I actually met the man. “His name is Fowler?”

“Stephen Fowler,” Suzie grumbled. “Kiki thinks Grace will kick us all out of the will and leave all her money to some cat sanctuary.”

“Grace has a cat?” I asked, perking up. “I haven’t seen a cat around here.”

“She’s got a great cat,” Suzie said, grinning. “Leroy. He’s pitch-black and very cool.”

I smiled at the image of a cool black cat and also at my unintentional changing of the subject. I was ready to talk about happier things. I was sick of being cranky and silently declared myself to be a negative-free zone for the rest of the evening. I would be upbeat, positive, and hopeful. And the subject of cats was a cheery alternative to lawyers anytime.

“Leroy is a joy,” Vinnie said with more enthusiasm. “An excellent cat. Very friendly. The best thing about being here.”

“Okay, Vinnie,” Suzie said softly, and Vinnie frowned, then nodded in what seemed to be a silent apology. Maybe they were tired of the negativity, too. It was a state I’d rarely seen the two of them enter.

“I can’t wait to meet Leroy,” I said, excited at the prospect of meeting a cat I could snuggle up with for a few days. Cats were a calming influence and lately I’d been thinking of getting one of my very own.

And while I didn’t want to bring it up at that moment (because I was now an instrument of positivity in the universe), I couldn’t wait to find out more about Vinnie’s antagonistic feelings toward Aunt Grace, who, by the way, seemed to take Vinnie’s snarky attitude in stride.

I recalled our conversation earlier that day, during our two-hour drive to Tahoe. Vinnie and Suzie had gone back and forth, filling in the gaps of my understanding of Aunt Grace. Vinnie didn’t approve of Grace’s lackadaisical attitude toward everything, including people. But Suzie described her aunt as whimsical and good-natured.

“She is most definitely whimsical,” Vinnie had agreed, but added, “along with being fickle and unreliable.”

“She’s the youngest person I know,” Suzie had said by way of explanation, and it was obvious from her tone how fond she was of her aunt. Even though Grace was turning fifty and was retired from Gamester, the corporation
she’d founded and helped grow, she was just a big kid at heart, Suzie insisted.

Grace had started out in the business by designing board games, but she made her millions creating pinball and video games. In the past ten years, she had moved her company into designing 3-D computer games. She was still crazy about every kind of game, puzzle, and magic trick. Even retired, she fancied herself a master gamester, and her huge home reflected her brilliant, idiosyncratic nature.

Vinnie’s opinion of Grace was much less love-blinded. She felt that Grace played at being a kid because she didn’t want to accept adult responsibility for her actions or decisions.

“Come on, Vinnie. She’s not a mean person,” Suzie insisted.

“No, no. She is simply a bit oblivious of others.” Vinnie shifted in the car seat to look at me. “I suppose that’s why she can come across as inconsiderate. But I don’t wish to imply that she’s mean.”

“That’s good to know,” I said.

“However,” Vinnie hastened to add, “I still don’t approve of her eccentric décor. I warn you, Brooklyn. Don’t walk too close to the walls, because they’ve been known to move.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I am not. Her house is a giant game board and subject to her ever-changing moods and whims. Please, please, don’t walk under the giant mousetrap cage in the game room.”

“Mousetrap cage?” I frowned. “Like the game?”

“Yeah,” Suzie said, pleased that I got the reference. “Grace invented a game that had some of the same elements as Mousetrap, only there was more of a strategic game involved. Hers was called Cat and Mouse. I think it might’ve been the first game she ever came up with. She still has some life-sized props around the house from those early days.”

“Yes, she does.” Vinnie shot Suzie an ominous look. “She has that hideous mouse cage hanging from the ceiling, waiting to trap innocent bystanders.”

“Almost sounds like you got caught in it,” I said.

Suzie snorted and Vinnie batted her arm. “Yes, I was caught, and it was not funny. Yet Suzie and her aunt howled with laughter when it happened.”

“Suzie, that was mean,” I said, but I had to bite back a smile.

“Thank you, Brooklyn,” Vinnie said. “They laughed, then walked out of the room, leaving me to rot in that cage.”

“We came right back,” Suzie insisted as she winked at me in the rearview mirror.

Vinnie scowled. “It was forty-five minutes later.”

“It was ten minutes.”

“I thought I would die in that stupid cage!”

“Hey, I’ve been caught in her traps before, too,” Suzie said, then explained that she’d actually fallen through a trapdoor in one of the hallways. She’d landed on a huge pillow in the basement, but still. “Scared the crap out of me.”

“Yes, that was too bad.” Vinnie had tried to remain impassive, but finally choked out a laugh.

I was horrified but also curious. Who was this eccentric woman who liked to play games with her guests?

Giant mousetraps? Moving walls? Trapdoors? Maybe Madge was right to freak out in the hall earlier.

As we walked into the dining room, I was reminded of Grace’s advice: “Take care, watch your step, and nobody will get hurt.” I would have to remember that.

In the grandly formal dining room, we found that the seating arrangements for all fifteen of us had already been designated. I left my friends at one end of the table and tracked down my place card at the opposite end. I was seated between Nathan Hayes, Grace’s new librarian archivist, and Peter Brinker, Grace’s ex-partner. I could live with the arrangement, although I hated to
miss out on the conversation at the other end of the table. Vinnie was seated between Suzie and Marko and the three of them were already laughing about something.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

I turned and stared into the face of Stephen Fowler. He looked even unhappier now than he had in the hall. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

He scowled, grabbed my arm, and shoved me into the back of my chair. “I said, move it.”

Instantly livid, I yanked my arm away, then took a quick look behind me. There was plenty of room for him to pass by me, so what was his point? I shook my finger at him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“Or what?” he taunted. What was wrong with him? Was he deranged?

“Or you’ll regret it,” I said evenly.

“Ooh, you scare me.”

I was about to sputter incoherently, so I turned away, cutting him off. I gripped my chair and stared blindly at the place setting, hoping he would just walk away. Far away. I was shaking with anger. I wished I had a gun so I could pistol-whip him with it. That’s how irrationally angry Fowler had made me. He had baited me deliberately and I couldn’t understand why. I struggled to calm down, then carefully looked around again. No one seemed to have noticed our brief encounter.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Fowler had taken his place a few seats down on the same side of the table as me, thank goodness. I wouldn’t have to look at his Grinch-like face.

I no longer had any interest in changing my seat to be closer to Vinnie and Suzie. It would only bring me closer to Stephen Fowler, and that would be intolerable.

What a horrible man!

“Hello again,” Peter said genially, and pulled my chair out for me.

“Thank you,” I said, and sat down cautiously. After
the run-in with Stephen Fowler, it took a few seconds to remember that most people here were friendly and capable of acting politely.

Sybil was already seated on Peter’s other side. It might’ve been my unsteady imagination, but I thought I saw her scowl as I took my seat. As soon as I looked back at her, though, she favored me with another one of her weak smiles.

I wasn’t ready for another verbal confrontation, so I ignored my neighbors and spent a few minutes studying the pretty formality of the large room. The crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling glittered in the candlelight. The table settings were gold-banded ivory set on hammered silver chargers. The delicate glassware appeared to be Baccarat. It was an educated guess; I’d seen similar pieces at Guru Bob’s house. In front of every other place setting were pink cabbage roses and pale green hydrangeas compressed together in squat, square, etched-glass vases. The vintage arrangements lent an Old World charm to the table.

I settled back in my chair and let out a breath. I had tangled with obnoxious people before, but Stephen Fowler had spooked me badly. Maybe because his animosity came out of nowhere, completely unprovoked. He seemed to think I had done something unforgivable, but I hadn’t, of course. It was possible that he was simply unhinged.

I scanned the room again and realized that Fowler was seated next to Sybil. Now, there was a happy duet.

Bella sat on the other side of Fowler, and Grace’s brother, Harrison, held court at the far end of the table. Despite being married to the hateful Madge, Harrison seemed like a cheery sort and was presently chuckling at something Bella had said. He was of medium height and portly, and tonight he wore an expensive cashmere V-neck sweater in a bright green shade with a faded purple, tattered polo shirt underneath. I was willing to bet money that his wife hated that garish, motley outfit.
But maybe that was precisely why Harrison dressed that way.

Whether by chance or on purpose, Madge was not seated next to her husband, but halfway down the table opposite Peter and right next to Vinnie. She was a little too close for my comfort. But Madge ignored everyone at the table by busying herself with folding and unfolding her white linen napkin. That was fine with me. I hoped her frosty, unspoken contempt for all of us would continue, because I really didn’t care to be forced into another conversation with the woman.

By my count, there were three truly unlikable people at the party: Sybil, Madge, and Fowler. An odd party statistic, but it was true. Poor Grace, forced to invite them all—although, to be fair, while she couldn’t have avoided inviting Madge or Sybil, I had no idea why she had invited that schnook Fowler.

A waiter filled my glass with wine and my mood lightened considerably. I decided it was time to ignore the three party poopers and get to know my immediate companions better. I liked Peter Brinker, found him easy to talk to and generous. And I wanted to find out more about Nathan. He was seated next to Grace, who sat at the head of the table.

Our dinner conversation was a bit forced at first, but the incredible food and excellent wines quickly loosened our tongues and inhibitions. Who could remain silent after tasting such incredible fare? The first course was a roasted beet salad with tangy goat cheese and caramelized fennel. This was followed by a pasta course of homemade linguini with wild mushrooms in a creamy, buttery, brandy-infused sauce that made me want to cry out in pleasure.

“I haven’t had one bad meal since I moved here,” Nathan said as he poured a touch more wine into my glass. “Grace’s chef is worth his weight in gold.”

“This pasta is sensational,” I said as my taste buds moaned and begged for one more bite.

Grace overheard me. “Chef Tang is a gift from heaven. He’s originally from Thailand but he studied at Cordon Bleu in Paris and worked in France for years before I was able to lure him here.”

While I stuffed my face—er, enjoyed the fabulous dining experience—I glanced over at Vinnie and Suzie and wondered if I should’ve wangled a seat closer to them. They sat near Marko and Bella, who kept everyone in a good mood with their own banter and their kibitzing with other guests. Every few minutes, I would hear Marko’s high-pitched, boyish giggle and it almost made me laugh.