November 12, Tuesday

THE LAST of the autumn leaves skittered across Main Street as I emerged from Coleman's Grocery, my pockets heavier from egg money but my heart oddly light. The morning air held the crisp promise of winter, and holiday decorations had begun appearing in shop windows.

The metallic jingle of keys caught my attention. Across the street, Dora stood in front of Blakemore Books, struggling with the stubborn lock. Even from this distance, I could see the dark circles under her eyes.

"Need help?" I called, jogging over.

Dora looked up, managing a wan smile. "Thanks, but I've got it. Just takes a special touch." She demonstrated, jiggling the key while lifting the door slightly. The lock clicked. "See? Uncle Wayne taught me that trick."

"Wayne was your uncle?" I asked, surprised.

"Figure of speech," she said sadly. "Tessa and Taylor and I called him that since we were little."

The mention of Wayne sent a pang through my chest. The book shop windows were still dark, the CLOSED sign perpetually displayed. A thin layer of dust had settled on the books in the window display.

"When will you reopen?" I asked gently.

"Soon," Dora sighed, pocketing her keys. "To liquidate everything. Mom was Wayne's bookkeeper. She says we can't keep paying rent on an empty store." She blinked rapidly. "We're calling it a Going Out of Business Sale."

My heart ached for her. Wayne's dream of running a small-town bookstore was ending not with a bang, but with clearance signs and empty shelves.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something," I said. "Wayne's manuscript—it needs some work, but there's real potential there. If his family's interested, I might be able to help get it published."

"Really?" A spark of life returned to Dora's face. "Uncle Wayne would've loved that. He wouldn't let anyone read it, but I knew it had to be good."

"Do you have contact information for his family? I'd need their permission to pursue publication."

"Of course! I mean, it's just his sister in Mobile. They weren't close, but she's his only living relative." Dora pulled out her phone. "I can text you her details."

"That would be great."

As Dora typed, a cool breeze whispered down Main Street, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and the decay of leaves.

"There," Dora said, hitting send. My phone buzzed in my pocket. "I included her email too. And Josephine?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Thank you."

I squeezed her arm. "Wayne had talent. His story deserves to be told."

"Will you come to the sale? We're going to kick it off the day after Thanksgiving."

"Of course. Save me some gothic romances?"

"Of course."

As I walked back to my bike, I glanced over my shoulder at the darkened bookstore. A sad pang struck my chest that Wayne was gone before I'd gotten to know him.

I needed to get his manuscript back from Detective Terry… and find out if something in it had led to Wayne's death.