The casual way Willow asked caught Ellie off guard. She wondered if she’d ever feel ready to face that particular ghost from her past. Slowly, she shook her head.
“You should,” Willow offered. “I think it helps.”
Ellie nodded, not trusting herself to speak without her voice cracking. As she turned to leave, Willow called out, “The next riddle is in there. I tried to figure it out, but I’m not sure.”
Ellie stepped out of Willow’s Apothecary, cradling the velvet-wrapped manuscript as if it were made of delicate glass. She itched to know what the next riddle could be, but her excitement screeched to a halt when she spotted DS Angela Cookson chatting with PC Finn outside Sylvia’s cheese shop, and Angela’s sharp eyes locked onto her. Instead of looking away and feigning ignorance like she always did, the detective pivoted towards her with purposeful strides. Ellie froze, clutching the precious manuscript tighter against her chest.
“Have you seen Emma?” Angela demanded.
Ellie swallowed hard. “She was just in the shop,” she managed to reply, gesturing vaguely behind her. “She left in a hurry, and I didn’t see which way she turned.”
Angela’s eyes narrowed. “Well, Miss Fortescue has made some interesting allegations against Emma Blackwood based on some incriminating emails.” She paused, her icy glare boring into Ellie. “She also mentioned something about a coin you found. If that’s true, Eleanor, you’re withholding evidence.”
Ellie’s mind scrambled for a response, desperately trying to figure out how to admit she’d lost the coin without incriminating herself further. She should have handed it over when she first found it, but how hard should tracking a coin down have been? She still had the print-out from the auction house that Zara found, but no coin to back it up. Before she could formulate an answer, Angela’s keen gaze zeroed in on the bundle in Ellie’s arms.
“What’s that?” Angela demanded. “In your arms? What are you holding?”
“Oh, it’s…” Ellie’s throat constricted, choking away the lies before they could formulate. She glanced down at the manuscript, then back up at Angela’s expectant face. “Amber’s laptop is with your Oliver at his café if you want to read the emails.”
Angela’s expression hardened. “That’s useful information to know, but that’s not what I asked. What are you holding?”
Ellie looked down at the manuscript again, her mind blank. She parted her lips, but no words escaped. Before she could react, Angela closed the distance between them in two quick steps and tugged the manuscript from the cloth. Ellie’s fingers closed around the cold velvet as the gold slipped away.
“You devious little...” Angela flicked through the pages, her mouth agape. “Where did you get this?”
Ellie’s throat tightened out her last breath, words failing her. The silence on South Street stretched between them, heavy and oppressive, and people were noticing, stopping to watch the standoff.
“I asked you a question,” Angela repeated, her voice echoing down South Street. Passersby stopped in their tracks, the usual bustle of the village coming to an abrupt halt.
The café door swung open, and Oliver emerged. “What’s going on out here?”
Angela’s eyes never left Ellie as she replied, her voice dripping with contempt. “Your sister is lucky she’s not being arrested. That’s what’s going on.” She brandished the manuscript like a long sword, pointed at Ellie as she backed away from the battle. “Stay out of my investigation, Eleanor Swan. First and only warning.”
With that, Angela spun on her heel and stormed down South Street, leaving a wake of stunned silence behind her. As she went, Maggie appeared in the doorway of the bookshop on the corner, nearly colliding with the detective as she rushed past.
“Watch where you’re going!” Maggie called after her.
“Not now!” Angela snapped back, disappearing around a corner.
Oliver approached Ellie, shaking his head in the wake of his mother. “Are you alright, Ellie?”
Ellie didn’t think to pretend otherwise as she shook her head. She’d just had it in her hands. Another piece of Edmund’s Last Draft, potentially laced with more clues of what might be to come, and another riddle. She couldn’t deny it would help the police, and it’s where she’d have gone after she’d read it for herself—she’d learned the lesson with the lost coin—but she’d had answers in her hands and she’d had to let them slip through her fingers.
Chapter 20It Was Invisible All Along!
The books were reproducing.
They had to be.
Either that, or Ellie was losing her mind. She could have sworn the damaged books pile wasn’t getting any smaller, and yet she’d been cross-legged on the dusty floorboards deciding their fate for long enough that her lower back was insisting she grab a pillow.
The shop was eerily quiet now that Maggie had gone home, leaving Ellie alone with her thoughts and the overwhelming task at hand. She’d sent her grandmother home an hour ago when she noticed Maggie’s movements slowing, her energy flagging.
“We work until it’s finished!” Maggie insisted.
“Rest,” Ellie insisted right back. “I don’t need to explain why.”
Maggie huffed, but she accepted her marching orders and left, leaning heavier on the cane than when she’d arrived on South Street that morning with a spring in her step.
Now, alone as the daylight faded, surrounded by stacks of books sorted by the type of repair they needed—spine, cover, or pages—a wave of hopelessness washed over Ellie. The sheer volume of work required to put the shop right was daunting. And it wasn’t just the books; the entire shop seemed to be falling apart around her.
Earlier, she’d discovered rising damp infecting the bathroom, rotting the skirting boards and bubbling the paint. The tap had a constant drip she’d managed to tighten a bit by hand but would need to take a wrench to. She’d noticed dry rot in some of the floorboards and deep cracks in the plaster, gouging across corners like spiderwebs. It wasn’t just a matter of cleaning and organising; the very structure of the building was crying out for attention.
Ellie ran her fingers along a crack in the wall, feeling the rough edges beneath her fingertips. How long had Maggie been struggling to keep this place going on her own? The extent of the neglect was staggering, and Ellie couldn’t help but wonder if it was time to have a difficult conversation with her grandmother.
The thought of suggesting that Maggie sell the bookshop made Ellie’s chest tighten. This place held so many memories, so much history. It was more than just a shop; it was a part of their family. From Lucy Bond to Sister Bond, to Maggie Cookson, Meadowfield Books had been the place to buy books in the village. That’s why Lucy named it such.
“It’s not like there’s anywhere else around here selling ‘em,” is what Maggie said Ellie’s great-grandmother said the day the sign went up.
Letting this place go would hurt, deeply. But as Ellie looked around at the monumental task before her, she couldn’t help but wonder if it might be the kindest option for her dear Granny.
Ellie’s heart sank as the book she’d been holding split in two, its pages fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves. She sighed, scooping up the remains and tossing them onto the ever-growing pile of unsalvageable volumes. Just as she straightened up, a sharp knock at the door made her jump.
Oliver’s familiar face peered through the glass, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Ellie fumbled with the lock, suddenly aware of how late it must be.
“You’re still here?” Oliver asked as she opened the door. “Everywhere else closed ages ago.”
“I... lost track of time.”
