16

Was that the guy?” Fiji asked as she opened her door. They’d passed an exiting customer as they’d come in, a smiling white-haired lady who’d wished them a good day. She’d been carrying a cloth shopping bag, and it looked heavy.

“She sure looked happy,” Manfred said, glancing after the old woman, who’d climbed into an aged Cadillac.

“Yes,” Fiji said. “She did.” She waited, looking pleasant.

“Yes, that was the amazing Lewis and a blogger who’s evidently a big name if you love the Internet. Oh, your spell worked great at the police station,” Manfred said.

“Good!” She turned to lead the way in. The shop area was less crowded; when some of Fiji’s display cases had been destroyed the previous year, she’d liked the look when the room had been cleaned up. When she’d gotten her insurance payment, she’d added more wall shelves and fewer freestanding cabinets. Now Fiji retrieved her office chair from behind the counter and rolled it out to the two upholstered chairs flanking a little wicker table. On the table was a tray with a pitcher of tea and a plate of cookies.

Olivia and Manfred both helped themselves, though Olivia looked as if she were thinking sarcastic thoughts.

“What did your visitors want?” Fiji asked.

Manfred said, “Here’s our problem.” He went on to explain (in what he felt were clear terms): the charges by Lewis, the consequences of Lewis’s harassment to the whole community, and (to Olivia’s anger) the attack she’d faced at the Goldthorpe house.

Fiji said, “Well, I feel like Don Corleone when the undertaker comes to see him about the rape of his daughter.”

Manfred began laughing, then stopped in midcackle. “You mean, we should have come to you first? That you could have taken care of it better than we have from the get-go?” Olivia was not laughing a bit.

Fiji smiled. “Hey, don’t push the analogy too far. I just meant it’s appealing to have someone ask me for help instead of treat me like an extra appendix.”

“I’ve seen what you can do,” Manfred said. “With great respect.”

Fiji nodded, her eyes on Olivia. After a moment, Olivia nodded in agreement. Fiji’s shoulders relaxed, and Manfred saw that he hadn’t read the situation right, at all. Fiji had been very anxious about what they’d come to her for, and his request had been a relief. He had to wonder what she’d thought he might say instead.

“So what you know is: No one stole the jewelry. It’s in the library in Rachel’s house. It’s inside something, maybe one of the books, but there are hundreds of books in the library. And also, Olivia’s enemies are hot on her trail, the people she came here to hide from.”