8.

Two days later, Mercer ventured downtown and had lunch at a small café with a shaded courtyard. Afterward, she strolled along Main Street and noticed that Noelle’s shop was closed. A handwritten sign on the door explained that the owner was in France shopping for antiques. The writer’s table was on full display in the front window, in an otherwise empty room. She went next door, said hello to Bruce, and walked upstairs to the café, where she ordered a latte and took it outside to the balcony overhanging Third Street. As expected, he soon joined her.

“What brings you downtown?” he asked.

“Boredom. Another unproductive day at the typewriter.”

“I thought Myra had cured your writer’s block.”

“Wish it could be that simple. Do you have a few minutes, to talk?”

Bruce smiled and said of course. He glanced around and noticed a couple at a nearby table, too close for a serious conversation. “Let’s go downstairs,” he said. She followed him down to his First Editions Room and he closed the door behind them. “This must be serious,” he said with a warm smile.

“It’s somewhat delicate,” she said. She told him the story of Tessa’s old books, the ones she had “borrowed” from the Memphis Public Library in 1985. She had rehearsed the tale a dozen times and seemed genuinely perplexed about what to do. She was not surprised that he enjoyed the story and was interested in the books. In his opinion, there was no need to contact the library in Memphis. Sure, it would love to have the books back, but their losses had been written off decades ago. Besides, the library would have no appreciation for their real values. “They would probably just put them back on the shelves for the next person to steal,” he said. “Believe me, nothing good would happen to the books. They should be protected.”

“But they’re not really mine to sell, right?”

He smiled and shrugged as if this was a technicality of little consequence. “What’s the old saying? Possession is nine-tenths of the law. You’ve had the books for over ten years. I’d say they belong to you.”

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right for some reason.”

“Are the books in good shape?”

“They seem to be. I’m no expert. I’ve taken good care of them. In fact, I’ve rarely touched them.”

“Can I see them?”

“I don’t know. This is just the first step. If I show you the books, then we would be getting closer to a transaction.”

“At least let me see them.”

“I don’t know. Do you have the titles in your collection?”

“Yes. I have all of James Lee Burke’s books and all of Cormac’s.”

Mercer glanced at the shelves as if looking for them. “Not here,” he said. “They’re with the rare books downstairs. Salt air and humidity are brutal on books, so I keep the valuable ones in a vault where the temperature is controlled. Would you like to see them?”