Revisting "A Murder In Paradise"

I started to read "A Murder In Paradise" by Richard Gehman again last night. This has to be the hundredth time, if not more.
For a few months the book has been sitting on an end table in my living room. At no time in my life has it ever been too far away from me. I have no idea why I always keep it so handy and close.
When we moved here, it was packed in a box in the one spare bedroom for several months. When the very familiar pangs started up again, making me need to read it one more time, I remember frantically running up the stairs and heading for the packing boxes, stacked high to the ceiling, in many rows.
I knew instinctively what other items I had packed in the same box with the book, so when I popped the top on the fourth or fifth box and saw my grandmother's linen calendar folded and laying on top of the items, I knew I had the right one!
I also remember my husband telling me to do a search on the internet to see if anyone had an additional copy for sale. My copy is very worn by now. I did find two for sale. The prices were astronomical, at least for my bank account!
Inside the front cover of my copy, I had written my mother's name and address in ink. I clearly was attempting to copy her beautiful, flowing cursive, but failed lol
She had kept the book in a chest of drawers in her room that was reserved for some of her favorite and most cherished jewelry. My Mom was a glamour doll and her jewelry was her signature. That and her beauty mark :) (When she had almost a day's worth of surgery for head/neck cancer she awoke and was angrier at the surgeon removing her beauty mark without permission than she was worried about the surgery; that was my Mom!)
The book was kept in an elevated place in her mind and heart, and the fact that she kept it in the jewelry chest of drawers and not on the bookshelves with her hundreds of other books was quite telling. It has always been revered in our family.
My Mom never spoke much about the murder. She spoke only briefly in my presence of Marian.
But I overheard her a few times over the years speaking of Ed Gibbs. Her tone was strong and it was seething. "He said 'She was hard to kill. She didn't want to die.' " The words slid out of her mouth almost with a slight hiss. Over the years I would come to learn how much my Mom truly did harbor hate for Ed Gibbs. It seemed that if she spoke more of him she'd somehow make him more important in the universe than she wanted him to be.
Marian Louise Baker's photo was in an album at my Grandmother's house for as long as I could remember. I can still see her smile and her side pose in a white outfit. She had dark hair, dark eyes and an easy smile.
I clearly didn't recognize her as a member of our family, at least one that I had ever met, so I asked about the picture. "That's Marian Louise Baker, a friend of Aunt Weenie's." That's all that was said for quite a long time. But for some reason, even as a small girl, I always returned to that picture when looking through the photo albums. To this day I don't know why. It would be years before I knew what had happened to Marian.