by Ellery Adams
To her, books held the answer to every question, every problem. Books had the power to make difficult things better. Books were a magical medicine. They were a soft blanket, a cup of hot tea, and a strong hug bound between sturdy covers. Why wouldn’t they have the answers to this riddle?
Yet doubts wormed their way into Nora’s mind. These doubts increased as the sheriff fielded phone call after phone call. Though he never said anything directly to her, she could sense his growing restlessness.
She took Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone down from the shelf and paused before opening the cover. J. K. Rowling’s series didn’t fit with the rest of Amanda’s collection because it wasn’t a trilogy. Even in the cases of the Inkheart or Philip Pullman novels, which now included additional installments in the series, Amanda had acquired only the original three titles. She hadn’t added Funke’s Dragon Rider or Pullman’s Once Upon a Time in the North to her collection.
However, the Harry Potter series couldn’t qualify as a trilogy in any sense of the word. It was common knowledge that the series would extend beyond three books, which meant either Amanda simply loved the first three books or she had another reason for putting them on her shelf.
Nora examined the spine of the J. K. Rowling book again and frowned. Had Amanda gotten her hands on the limited print run of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone? The one that credited Ms. Rowling as Joanne instead of J. K. on the copyright page? Because that book would definitely be worth keeping.
“Find something good?” McCabe asked.
Nora gently turned to the copyright page and said, “Yes. In America, this book was published as Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Amanda has the UK version. It’s an unusual copy. I’ll have to look up the current value on my computer. I have no idea what it sells for.” She glanced at the sheriff. “Do you read?”
“I mostly listen to audiobooks,” he said. “Whenever I exercise, drive, or work on a project around the house, I’m plugged in.” He tapped his ear.
“Do you have a favorite genre?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I bounce around. One week, I might listen to a medical thriller and the next, an informative book on economics. It all depends on my mood, but I like books that teach me something. I like to finish a book and feel like I’m a little bit smarter than I was before I read it.”
McCabe’s phone rang again and he returned to the kitchen to answer it.
Alone again, Nora pulled Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets down from the shelf. The book felt wrong. It was way too light.
As soon as she opened the cover, she understood why.
The book had been hollowed out.
The pages were still intact, but someone had cut a hole in the center of the book. Inside the hole was a gold pocket watch.
Slightly dazed by her discovery, Nora stood up and carried the book into the kitchen.
McCabe was looking out the window and had his phone pressed to his ear, but he heard Nora’s approach and turned to face her.
She held out the book, cradling it in her palms, and waited for the sheriff to react.
“I need to call you back,” he said and lowered his phone, his thumb hitting the END button as his arm dropped. His gaze flitted from the book, to Nora’s face, and back to the book again.
“I haven’t touched the watch,” Nora whispered. She wasn’t sure why she was whispering, but the significance of the moment seemed to call for it.
McCabe quickly put on a pair of gloves and took the book from Nora. “I’ll be damned.” The sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window glinted off the watch’s gold surface, casting yellow speckles onto the sheriff’s face. “Show me where you found this.”
Nora preceded him into the living room and pointed at the space where the book had been shelved.
After taking a few photos of the crate, McCabe carefully slid the book into a paper evidence bag.
Nora examined the remaining books, but none were as remarkable as the hollowed-out Harry Potter.
“When can you come up with an estimate for the whole collection?” McCabe asked on the way back to town.
“I’ll start working on it right away,” Nora said. “What about the watch? Will you take it to Virtual Genie?”
“I hadn’t planned to, but I might get answers more quickly that way.” The sheriff frowned. “I have a gut feeling that we’re short on time.”
Nora shared his feeling. With two consecutive deaths combined with Ezekiel Crane’s leave of absence from work, the sense of urgency was a shadowy presence looming over them all. McCabe had to close these investigations to protect his career while Nora and her friends had to keep Abilene safe.
At the railroad tracks, the sheriff stopped for a passing freight train. Drumming the steering wheel in frustration, he repeatedly glanced at his watch as the train chugged by.
Nora touched his forearm. “Ezekiel Crane’s business is timepieces and jewelry. Do you think he knows about the pocket watch?”
“It’s possible,” the sheriff said and ceased his fidgeting.
“Can I tag along when you go to Virtual Genie?” she asked. “I can walk back to Miracle Books from there.”
McCabe screwed up his lips. “Why do you want to go?”
Nora watched the cars clatter past. For a long time, she didn’t answer.
“Because I let Amanda down,” she finally said. “I could have been kinder to her, but I wasn’t. I didn’t like her, so I didn’t try to get to know her. I put more effort into the well-being of complete strangers than I did with Amanda. And she needed help as much as anyone who travels to Miracle Springs in search of healing.”
“I get that. And while I think you’re being too hard on yourself, I have to ask why your history with Amanda is connected to a mysterious pocket watch?”
Nora threw up her hands in exasperation. It was hard to explain her investment in this case and her need to seek justice for Amanda. Taking a fortifying breath, she tried to find the right words. “I found Amanda, a woman I’d ignored, floating in her pond. I saw her book, with its broken spine, splayed on her kitchen counter. I knew she’d never leave a book like that. Not after seeing her collection. If she’d voluntarily taken those pain pills, she wouldn’t stand in the kitchen and read one of her first editions while waiting for the drugs to kick in. She wouldn’t have gone outside either. She would have sat in the living room, needing to be close to the only things in the world that brought her comfort. Her books.”
The sheriff nodded to show that he was listening.
“I think someone killed her,” Nora went on. “After Kenneth asked Griffin Kingsley and then me about his mother’s books, I started thinking that the motive lay with them. But only one book really matters. The book turned into a safe. The book hiding a pocket watch. And if someone at Virtual Genie can say what’s so special about this watch, then I want to hear what it is. I want to represent Amanda’s interests in a way I never did when she was alive.”
The end of the train lumbered past the crossing. Nora was sad to see that there was no caboose. There was just another engine, facing backward. It was a story without an ending.
“It’s like a snake with two heads,” McCabe said, his gaze following the receding locomotive. Though the red crossing-signal lights were still flashing, the gates were slowly rising. The sheriff turned to Nora. “Okay. You can come along.”
McCabe nabbed a parking spot right in front of Virtual Genie. The moment they entered the lush main room, Nora spotted Jed. He was shaking hands with Tamara and clasping a white envelope in his free hand.
Nora hung back a few feet, allowing the sheriff to approach Griffin Kingsley’s desk unaccompanied.
Jed turned to leave. He immediately caught sight of Nora and his face broke into a wide grin.
“That’s twice you’ve followed me in here,” he said after closing the distance between them. He leaned over to kiss her. It was just a brief peck on the mouth, but Nora was too stunned to
react. If Jed noticed her stiffness, he didn’t let it show. “You’re getting pretty bold for a stalker. Coming in while the sheriff’s here.”
“We came in together, actually,” Nora said. “He asked me to do a rough appraisal of Amanda Frye’s book collection.”
Jed glanced back at McCabe. “Do you have a thing for men in uniform? Tell me now, because I need to know if I have to worry about the firemen. I’d really like to catch a break from having to compete with those guys!”
Nora couldn’t properly respond to Jed’s teasing style of flirtation. She was too eager to hear what the sheriff and Griffin were saying. “I’m sorry, Jed. I have to go. Call you later?”
He was hurt, but he tried to hide it. “Yeah. Sure. I need to deposit this before my shift starts anyway.” He waved the envelope. “Tamara got a great price for my old bank.”
Stuffing the envelope into his pocket, Jed exited Virtual Genie.
Nora stared after him for a moment. She could have handled that encounter better, but she hadn’t expected him to kiss her. Not in the middle of the day. Not in front of others. It had been too public for Nora’s tastes, and possibly too possessive as well.
“Ms. Pennington?” Sheriff McCabe called. “Would you like to join us?”
As Nora hurried to the sheriff’s side, she noticed Griffin’s puzzled expression. Instead of explaining Nora’s presence, the sheriff said, “I’d like to show you in private.”
Griffin led them to the back room. After switching on the high-powered lamp in the center of a worktable, he stepped away to allow McCabe room.
The sheriff, who’d donned a fresh pair of examination gloves, removed the book from the evidence bag. He placed it on the table and opened the cover. “As I mentioned, this book and its contents are evidence in an ongoing investigation, so I’ll ask you to keep to yourself what you see. I’d also appreciate your expertise in identifying this pocket watch.”
Griffin’s eyes immediately lit with a zealous gleam. The pocket watch was clearly valuable.
The naked longing in his face lasted only a second or two. By the time Griffin pulled on his own gloves, he’d mastered his emotions. “Happy to help,” he said with his usual courtesy.
His hands betrayed his eagerness. There was yearning in Griffin’s fingers as they pried the pocket watch from its snug nest of book pages. After selecting a magnifying glass from the table’s desk caddy, Griffin turned the watch over. He examined the back and said, “Definitely gold, but lighter than fourteen karats. Maybe nine karats?” He flipped the watch over again. “Lovely filigree engraving. Looks like a ram’s head in the central medallion. I haven’t come across that before.”
Nora held her breath as Griffin pushed the latch release. The watch cover popped open to reveal a white face with roman numerals. “Here’s our maker.” Griffin pointed at the script running across the lower half of the face. “Monnier and Musard. A Swiss timepiece. I believe it’s quite old.”
“Can you tell me what it’s worth?” the sheriff asked.
“I’ll have to search around online,” Griffin said. “I could give you an estimate, but it would be inaccurate because I don’t know if the watch works. Many antique pocket watches require a key for winding. Some watches require two keys. This watch is very unusual in that it requires three keys. Like the ram’s head, I’ve never encountered that before.”
McCabe frowned. He wasn’t getting what he was looking for from Griffin. “Is there anything else you can add?”
Griffin managed to tear his gaze from the watch. “I have a collection of spare pocket watch keys,” he told the sheriff. “I could try them to see if they’ll open this face. It might take some time because there’s another unusual element to this watch. Judging from the shape of the pins in the face, each key is unique. In other words, this watch requires three unique keys to function. I could force it open, but that would probably damage the case.”
“No, no,” McCabe was quick to say. “Let’s give your keys a try.”
As much as Nora wanted to observe Griffin fit keys into the watch face, she couldn’t. She needed to open the bookstore.
“I have to get to work. Thank you for including me,” she said to the sheriff. He responded with a brief nod, his focus clearly on the watch, so Nora passed through the curtain and reentered the main room.
Tamara grinned at Nora as she walked by her desk. “What’s going on back there? Did you find a priceless heirloom or an incriminating document tucked inside a book?”
Nora knew better than to breathe a word about the watch. “Something like that,” she said and left.
Out on the sidewalk, she ran into Jack Nakamura.
“Hello, Ms. Nora. Are you selling something too?” he asked, gesturing at the Virtual Genie sign.
She glanced up at the brass lamp with its sparkling plume of smoke. “I don’t have anything to sell. I use everything I own.”
Jack placed his hands together in front of his chest and bowed in respect. “If you have nothing extra, then nothing can weigh you down. You know a secret many people will never learn. You know that the real treasures in life are the connections we make with other people. Things rust, break, or lose their worth. Love only increases in value. To be sure it does, we must repair any little breaks or cracks using kintsugi.”
“Kintsugi?” Nora tried to mimic Jack’s pronunciation.
“It’s the ancient Japanese practice of repairing broken pottery using lacquer mixed with gold dust. After the repair, the pot has golden seams and is more beautiful than it was before.” Jack smiled. “It’s how we should repair broken hearts. A heart repaired with love will be scarred, but will also be more beautiful than it was before.”
Nora didn’t know how to respond to Jack’s sidewalk philosophy or why he’d decided to bring up the subject of broken hearts, so she asked if his antique box had already sold.
“That’s why I’m here.” A shadow darkened his cheerful face. “I can’t find the auction listing. Either I’m searching the wrong site or Mr. Kingsley forgot to post the listing.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Nora assured Jack and hurried on to Miracle Books.
It took her most of the day to assign a value to Amanda’s collection. While she was online looking up prices, she also researched Monnier and Musard pocket watches. She found an auction site that had sold a watch closely resembling the one hidden inside the Harry Potter book. The watch sold at auction didn’t have a ram’s head and required only two keys, but it was in very fine condition and functioned perfectly. It had sold for a whopping sixteen thousand dollars. And that was two years ago.
By day’s end, Nora knew that the watch was worth twice as much as Amanda’s entire book collection.
Nora called Sheriff McCabe to tell him what she’d found.
“Interesting,” he said. “Mr. Kingsley told me that the watch from Amanda Frye’s house was probably worth a few thousand. Sixteen thousand is more than a few.”
Though Nora wondered why Griffin had assigned the pocket watch such a low value, she assumed that he placed a great deal of importance on the watch’s functionality. “Whatever the monetary value, I’d question whether a person would commit two murders to get their hands on that watch. But people kill each other over less. We live in that kind of world now, don’t we?”
“We also live in a world where people help each other,” McCabe said. “And I want to thank you for your help . . . Nora.”
The sheriff ended the call seconds before a whistle announced the arrival of the afternoon train. This meant an influx of new guests to Miracle Springs and the departure of those whose time in the town had come to an end.
It struck Nora that Ezekiel wouldn’t need a car if he traveled to Miracle Springs from a town on the same train line. She also realized that she had no idea what he looked like. Though she’d searched for images of him online, she hadn’t found any.
Another ghost, Nora thought. Like Abilene. She was never allowed to exist
outside Crane’s house. She haunted a few rooms and a twilight garden.
In a sense, Nora was a ghost too. She’d completely disappeared from her previous life. To those who once knew her, she was as good as dead.
While she was closing the bookstore, Nora decided to surprise Abilene with an offer of dinner at the Pink Lady. Either that or Nora would order takeout and they could eat together at Caboose Cottage. Though it was a little chilly to sit out on the deck, Nora could lend Abilene a sweater. They could eat something warm and comforting like a chicken pot pie while watching the stars wink into life.
Nora was halfway to Abilene’s studio apartment when June called. She and Hester were heading to Abilene’s to deliver the goodies they’d purchased that afternoon.
“I feel like Santa,” June said. “I’m not quite as round in the belly yet, but I’m working on it. I do grow the odd white chin-hair now and then, so I guess I’m working on the beard too.”
She laughed and Nora heard Hester chuckling in the background.
“I’m actually walking to Abilene’s place right now,” Nora said and shared her idea for taking Abilene to the Pink Lady.
“We should eat at her place,” June said. “Hester and I bought her dishes, flatware, and glasses. We might have to sit on the floor, but it’ll be like an indoor picnic. Hester, call Estella and tell her to get her flat butt over to Abilene’s. We’re having an impromptu girls’ night.”
Nora quickened her pace because she wanted to see the look on Abilene’s face when June and Hester showed up with her gifts. More than that, Nora needed to be reassured that Abilene was okay. Since Ezekiel hadn’t been located, he could be anywhere. And anywhere included Abilene’s apartment.
When she arrived, Nora didn’t wait for her friends. She opened the outer door and stepped into the foyer.
As the door creaked shut behind her, the space above her missing pinkie finger began to tingle. Nora was enveloped by shadows. The lights were all off. There was only the angry red glow cast by the exit sign above the door.
She caught a waft of sour, rust-tinged air.
The tingling above Nora’s pinkie intensified.