[Useful,Disagreement,Resource,Stop,Progress]

  I closed the store and moved my car into position. I was glad I owned an ancient android phone, it was much less likely that someone would smash a window to get a forty or fifty dollar used phone then the latest and greatest iphone. I used duct tape to attach it to the car's passenger side window after switching the camera app on and choosing video. After coming home from the pub, I’d retrieve the phone and review the video.

  Anais was knocking on the front door precisely at eight. I went over and unlocked it.

  “Come on in. I have to go get my coat.”

  “How come I can get dressed, warm up my car, drive over her and be on time, while all you have to do is put on a coat and yet you are late.”

  “I couldn’t choose which one to wear.”

  “You’ve had the same coat for twenty years and you wear it everywhere, what’s to choose? I’ll buy you a coatrack for Christmas, you can keep it by the door with your coat on it. Then maybe you’ll be on time.”

  “I don’t celebrate Christmas, I celebrate Solstice and we don’t go for crass commercialism like the christians do so please don’t and I wouldn’t leave my coat on a rack by the door, someone may steal it.”

  “We just established that the coat is twenty years old, wouldn’t you feel bad for a person who needed a coat so badly that they were reduced to stealing a twenty year old coat.”

  “Yes I would, but I love my coat, it is warm and fuzzy, and it fits me perfectly. So if you buy me a rack, I’ll just buy a new coat and put that on the rack, I’ll keep my coat in my room where it is safe.”

  “You are impossible.”

  “I’ll be back in one minute.”

  And I was. I locked the front and we started to walk to the pub.

  “How much did the shoplifter steal from the till?”

  “Not a penny. In fact, she did quite well in the sales department. She sold fifteen books to the same customer.”

  “One of the romance fanatics no doubt.”

  “Yes the genre was romance but Genre’s doesn’t shame its readers for their genre choices. We celebrate them. I wish every genre had readers as dedicated as the romance genre does.”

  “Dedicated? No fanatical is more like it. Anyone who buys fifteen books in one go for enjoyment is fanatical, Laura.”

  “Well, even if that were true, I’m happy that they are ‘fanatical’ over books. Better than being, fanatical over sports, or politics or work or money.”

  “So the shoplifter didn’t steal anything while you watched over her, but if she shows up again, she will, just wait and see.”

  “I didn’t watch over her, she was in the store all alone, most of the afternoon.”

  “You really are insane.”

  “No, I’m not. She's a really nice girl, she’s just confused about a few things and looking for answers. The book she was attempting to borrow used to be in the school library, but some self righteous person complained and got the book removed. For the money I’m paying in school taxes, that school should be adding books to the library, not removing them. And guess what, before she left, she told me that she wants to own a bookstore someday.”

  “I hope you told her that there would be more opportunities for her as a telegraph operator.”

  “Very funny, Anais. I did tell her that brick and mortar bookstores were a dying breed but you never know, records are making a comeback, books may surprise us both, at least I hope so.”

  We arrived at the pub and Hazel was leaning against the self-serve tap wall. I loaded up a drink card.

  “Anais, what would you like to try?”

  “I’ll have the IPA, please.”

  “But that’s what you had last time, don’t you want to try something new?”

  “No, I like IPAs.”

  “Yes but you can get them everywhere. They have a chocolate lager, or a raspberry stout.”

  “No, I like IPAs.”

  “You are so stuck in your ways, Anais.”

  “Says the woman with the twenty year old coat.”

  “You can have an adventure in a twenty year old coat, but you can’t have an adventure with an IPA.”

  “Alright, Laura, if it will make you happy, pick me something from the wall of beers but if I don’t like it, you have to drink it, while I get an IPA.”

  “Okay, deal. I’ll go get them.”

  I went over to say hello to Hazel, and to get us a couple of beers. I’d show Anais, variety is the spice of life.

  “Hi Hazel, I just wanted you to know, I found the firefighter I was looking for. She gave me lots of great stuff to share with my friends' parents. If you see any more of his friends while we are here please send them over.”

  Then I poured a couple of beers and returned to the table.

  “What the hell is that, Laura.”

  “That Anais, is a compromise. You said you wanted an IPA, I said you should try something new, you agreed. This is called the Saturday Morning IPA.”

  “What’s that floating on top?”

  “Marshmallows.”

  “Marshmallows, why?”

  “That’s what makes it a Saturday morning IPA. Didn’t you get up early on Saturday mornings and watch cartoons while eating bowls of sugary cereal?”

  “I did not and I have never had a cavity. You, it would seem, are lucky to have any teeth left if you ate garbage like this for breakfast. I’m surprised at your aunt for letting you eat this junk.”

  “It was a Saturday morning treat, just like the cartoons. They were only on Saturday mornings, we didn’t have whole networks devoted to them, or multiple networks, like in Japan. Just try it, you’ll like it, it’s still an IPA.”

  “Ugg, it’s too sweet.”

  “Then spoon out the marshmallows, and put them in mine. I quite like it.”

  “It’s still too sweet.”

  “It’s just the top layer, take a couple of swigs and that will all be gone. Come on Anais, chug like you used to do in college.”

  “I never chugged in college, I never drank beer in college. I’d occasionally have a glass of white wine, which I much prefer over beer.”

  “Didn’t you ever go to the bowling alley over in Saranac, on Friday nights? Ten cent beers. The place was loaded with Stumpies.”

  “No, I did not, I couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting in a bowling alley bar with a bunch of drunken forestry students.”

  “I used to go all of the time, these guys were so starved for a female to talk to they’d flock over to Amy’s and my table. There were twelve hundred male forestry students and fifty females. We had never ending baskets of french fries and onion rings.”

  “And what did the Stumpies expect in return for the saturated fat artery clogging snacks.”

  “Nothing they just wanted to talk, well maybe they wanted more, but they were never rude, or grabby. I’ll say one thing for the Stumpies: they were polite.”

  “How did you get over there?”

  “Hitchiked. Sometimes it’d take a while leaving Placid to get to Saranac before we got picked up, but Saranac to home, the first driver passing by always stopped for us.”

  “My god, Laura, it’s lucky you two weren’t killed.”

  “Well it was a different time, unfortunately we expected the world to get better, not worse, and of course that never happened.”

  “Where did you ever get the idea that the world would improve?”

  “A book by a law Yale professor, “The Greening of America.” It promised an end to corporate greed, and government interference in personal freedom. He argued the country was so screwed up, it’d have to change. But instead we got Nixon and his war on drugs and Regan with his war on taxes. Trickle down economics, where the only thing that really trickles down is pee. After Vietnam, I thought the United States would never be stupid enough to go to war again. But the damn War machine got smart, they eliminated the draft. Made killing people in far away countries entirely voluntary. Advertised the hell out of the armed forces and people desperate for work or training for work rolled in. Now we’ve been at war for twenty five years, who profit from that, the exact corporations that a general and President and maybe the last respectable Republican warned the people about in nineteen sixty one, of the dangers of the military industrial complex.”

  “Okay, no more sugar in your beer, hippy. I don’t want to hear about the seventies, I want to know about what you learned when you talked to those two authors this afternoon. Which one do you think killed Lachlan?”

  “Oh neither of them did it. None of the writers killed him. He didn’t talk to the writers, he didn’t interact with the writers. The one interaction he had with a writer was an argument about what was more realistic, fantasy or science fiction. No one is going to murder someone over something like that. No, but there is a writer in the background. I’m sure of that, because you don’t go to bed, a meh writer or worse and get up the next day with a well written compelling storyline the very next day. It’s like a first day law student wouldn’t stand a chance in a trial against a dedicated attorney with five or more years of experience under their belts.”

  “But what are the chances that he’d stumble upon another writer in town. You just don’t want to admit it, you have eight writers in your home. It is much more likely that one of them is involved then a random writer he just happened to meet in town. I’m telling you, your defense of your friends is admirable, but it will all end in tears when one of them is revealed as his killer, Laura.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “None of them have a motive. Same as me, but I had opportunity, just no motive nor weapon, aside from a boxcutter. If the autopsy had revealed that he was bludgeoned with a book, I’d be in jail already. So if we rule out my writers and we take into account the physical evidence, the axe or hatchet sheath, I’d posit a logical candidate would be a nature writer who also moonlights in fiction, someone like Bill Mckibben, not him of course. But someone concerned with the environment who also lives in the area. How about a writer from Adirondack Lives, might be in Placid, and is also into writing fiction. Writers have to take work where they can find it.”

  “I think you are just stretching it, Laura. I think you knew it this afternoon when you went to chat with Anna and Clara. I think you know it right now, but you just don’t want to admit it to yourself. It’s a lot more logical to assume that the writer he stole from is a writer that he and you live with. We could figure it out if we could learn the truth about what your writers said to the cops about you. Just think about it, the one writer that agrees with the cops about you. That will be the killer.”

  “Well, I’ll just call up my friend Jones and ask for transcripts of their statements, maybe he’ll bring them over for me.”

  “No, he wouldn’t but maybe Amy could take a quick look and either text or even just a picture of the part of the transcript, where they agree you are the culprit. Then we’ll know which one to focus on.”

  “No, I would feel worse if Amy lost her job, a job she loves by the way, than I would going to prison. Please, please do not ask her to do anything that could get her in any trouble at her job. Come on, promise me.”

  “Fine, I promise I won’t talk to her about it. But I bet she’d give up her job in a heartbeat if it kept you out of prison.”

  “Yes, because she is that kind of friend, and because of that I treat her the same way, I go to prison, instead of risking her happiness. Hey, there’s Harry. I’ll go ask him to join us.”

  “Noo.” But it was too late, I was already on my way to the bar.

  “Hey, Harry, how are you doing?”

  “Oh, hey Laura, I’ve never seen you here before. Oh god are you with Anais, say it isn’t so, Laura.”

  “Sorry Harry, I’ve been getting to know her and she isn’t as bad as we thought.”

  “Nope sorry Laura, not happening. I had enough of her in high school to last a lifetime. She narced on me to the vice principal for selling pot to Nancy Keller. Luckily enough for us, Keller had already smoked it and I didn’t have any pot left. But he kept searching my locker right up to the final week of school before graduation. Look, this used to be my hang out, but I’ll go to the Prancing Bears.”

  “No, don't go, we’re leaving in a few minutes. Look, did you know Lachlan, the writer who died in the store? He used to come in here a lot.”

  “Not, by name, no. Do you have a picture? If he played the games I’m sure I would have met him.”

  I pulled out my phone and scrolled to a group picture of the writers and zoomed in on Lachlan’s face.

  “Yes, he looks familiar, but I’m not sure if it was from here or from the store, where I might have seen him. I never did meet him. I don’t think he played the arcade games, or I’d know him for sure. It’s just tragic though and I’m sorry it happened in your store. Are the cops hassling you?”

  “Yes, the lead detective is sure I did it.”

  “Get a good lawyer, Laura.”

  “Yeah, I did, well thanks, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I went back to the table.

  “Did you narc on Harry, when he was in high school? Is that why you don’t want to see him?”

  “Yes, I told the vice principal that he was selling drugs in the woods to freshman girls. I’d do it again. Thirteen or fourteen is too young to start taking drugs, who knows what they will do to a developing brain. Plus why drag the girls off into the woods? There were plenty of private spaces inside the school to make an illicit deal. I never saw him dragging any freshmen boys off into the woods. Good, I’m glad he still holds a grudge. I'd just as soon avoid him too.”

  “Well he was always nice to me.”

  “Laura, everyone is nice to you, in forty years the only person I’ve seen who isn’t is Jones.”

  “Yeah doesn’t that just figure, the one person who can put me in jail hates me. I want to check with Hazel before we leave, see if anyone came in we should know about.”

  “Hi Hazel, we’re about to head out, does anyone look familiar to you tonight?”

  “No sorry, Laura, not tonight. Tomorrow night is ladies night, half price drinks and a free app for the ladies. That usually attracts a bigger crowd overall, but your chances of meeting a girl who might have a story about Lachlan will likely rise.”

  “You should be selling cars Hazel at least you’d get a commision, but thanks for the tip. I’ll see you tomorrow night, and I quite like coming out for a drink after work. You might make a barfly out of me yet.”

  Anais was standing ready to go, tapping her foot. I wonder if she even realizes that she’s doing it.

  “No, luck, Hazel says tomorrow night is ladies night, she said more women show up than any other night of the week. Want to come back, I’ll call Amy too. If nothing else we can have a drink together after work.”

  We slowly walked back to the bookstore. It was a beautiful night. The sky was so clear you could easily see the milky way even with the town lights. On the way back I retrieved my phone from the car after first looking to see if anyone was watching the store or us.

  “Why is your phone taped to your car window and why is your car on the street?”

  “It was Ezra’s idea. I told him about the person keeping the store under surveillance, and I asked him what kind of camera I could get to catch them. Recommended using the car and the cell phone as the best alternative to an expensive telephoto lens camera. Now I can go in and review the footage, see if anything shows up.”

  “My bet is on Jones, he stands out here in the cold waiting for you to drag a body out or dig a grave on site.”

  “No, I don’t think so. The first time I thought I saw someone was before Lachlan was killed. So unless Jones is a precog he wouldn’t know to be here.”

  “What’s a precog?”

  “It’s from the Philip K Dick story the Minority Report. They made a movie too. But the cops arrest people before they commit the crime.”

  “Ok probably not, Jones then. Well let me know what you find, what are you doing tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow night, back to the Brew House, during the day call Adirondack Lives, finish Lachlan's manuscript.”

  “Okay, well if you wind up going somewhere dangerous call me and I’ll go with you, text me if you find anything interesting on the video.”

  I went in, got in my pajama’s and got into bed with my phone instead of a book for the first time ever I think. Then I started reviewing the footage, it was a cheap old phone and every time I tried to fast forward the video, the app crashed and I had to start all over again. So after this happened three times I decided the only thing to do was to watch the video in real time.

  I woke up in the morning, my phone dead. I’d have to watch this video all over again. Even if I could fast forward I had no idea how far in it was when I’d fallen asleep. I never fall asleep with a book so I hadn’t expected a video to put me to sleep like that. It was too late for breakfast so I just hopped in the shower, then after dressing I went down to the kitchen and made a cup of tea and a couple of poptarts. I was ready to face the day.

  First I did a walk-through of the store. I usually do this right after closing, straighten books on the shelves, put books just lying around back where they belonged. Even on a slow day, there was always stock that needed to be adjusted, from the day’s customers browsing. Yesterday hadn’t been slow, it was one of the busier days in a while going by the sales. But there was absolutely nothing out of place anywhere in the store. I hadn’t asked Lucy to do that, as a matter of fact I hadn’t even told her that I did it.

  About ten to ten, there was a soft hesitant knock on the front door. It was Lucy. There was a man standing there with her. He was wearing a dog collar. Oh, crap. I went over to let Lucy in.

  “I’m sorry we’re not open yet, just give us five minutes and we’ll be right with you.”

  I tried to pull Lucy in, before the man could reply.

  “I’m not a customer, I’m Lucy’s father. I’d like to have a word with you, please.”

  This guy looked like he always got what he wanted, so I swung the door open and told him to just make himself comfortable in the reading nook and I’d be right with him. I flipped the sign to open, and if I believed in a god I would have prayed for a bus load of customers. I’m sure this guy is pissed that I made a slave of his daughter. Well, if there really is a god he’s laughing his ass off at the atheist who’s about to get yelled at by one of his team.

  I might have broken some labor laws along the way. I’m sure Jones would love to click the cuffs on me in the store and lead me out, wishing it was for murder charges not labor law violations. But power hungry cops gotta take what they can get. It’s too bad too, I really like the girl and she’d make a great employee, if only I could afford to have an employee. Don’t put this off any longer, sooner started, sooner done.

  “Can I get you some tea reverend?”

  “No, thank you Ms Eriksson. I’m here to apologize, I’m appalled by the actions of my daughter. She will be given a strict penance.”

  “That’s not necessary, not necessary at all.”

  “I also want to purchase the book that she attempted to steal from you.”

  “Again reverend, completely unnecessary. I believe that book was already sold to another customer, so no harm done and Lucy did a fine job working around the store.”

  “Lucy claims that after retrieving the book, you gave her a three week internship and trained her how to wait on customers and then showed her how to use the register. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it.”

  “We’re you seeking to entrap her, perhaps get her on film stealing from the register?”

  “Of course not, we don’t have any security cameras, and hardly any money either. So if she did try to steal from the register she wouldn’t make it any further than Long Lake. But I trusted her, she knew she made a mistake and when she was at the door, she could have run away, but she didn't. I asked her to follow me to the register and she did.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “I didn’t think it was any of their business?”

  “Why not call her parents?”

  “Because I thought that might be worse for her then the police, she made a mistake, she apologized. I thought the best way to teach her a lesson was to make her work around the store. If you don’t want her to, that's fine, she’s free to go, we’ll call it even.”

  “Do you have any idea what my congregation would say if they learned that she was caught shop lifting?”

  “Hopefully judge not least ye be judged.”

  “So you are a believer.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that, I’m an Epicurean and a Transcendentalist at least most of the views espoused by Thoreau and I can’t really say that I disagree with any of Bertrand Russell’s views.”

  “As you get older you don’t feel any of those views softening?”

  “No, I’m still pretty firm, keep myself busy, I’m just joking. No, I know I understand what you mean. You have your afterlife to look forward to and all I have is the cold hard ground right? Well I’m skipping all that cold hard ground, I’m to be cremated and my ashes spread out in the wilderness. Not for my benefit, but for whoever mourns me. A hike up to Haystack and toss me into the wind. They get a good walk and get to say goodbye. I’ll be dead and won’t really care if they just decide that is too much trouble and flush me instead.”

  “Do you sell bibles here?”

  “No we are a fictional bookstore, that’s why we are called Genres, no non-fiction at all.”

  “No philosophy section, with those three you just quoted, you should.”

  “No, my small selection of philosophical titles are upstairs in my room and are not for sale at any price.”

  “Yes, I think you will do nicely. I’m entrusting my precious daughter to you for the next four weeks as an unpaid intern.”

  Lucy gave me a wide smile. I felt like I’d just passed a test.