“The gentleman who was here earlier said I should recommend a book on knitting if a young lady with short brown hair came in,” the woman said as she descended the ladder. “I think I have a few over here.” Wiping her hands on her pants, she headed down the first aisle.

Knitting? Reid silently cursed Ackley. He was probably laughing somewhere at her expense. “Curious that a gentleman should recommend a book for me. He must know me well.” And her hair wasn’t that short. It had grown to just past her shoulders. Granted, it wasn’t waist length like most women had, but it wasn’t short like a man’s.

The woman glanced over her shoulder at Reid, eyeing her from head to toe. “I’m not much of a knitter myself, but you do have the look of one.” She squatted, then scanned the bottom two shelves. “Ah, yes, here we are. There are several books you may find of interest.” She stood. “If you need any help, let me know.”

“Thanks. I’ll take a look.”

The woman smiled before returning to climb her ladder once again.

Kneeling, Reid examined the books. Which one would Ackley have chosen? Probably the most boring one imaginable. She read the titles on the spines, trying to guess without having to flip through each book.

One’s spine was so worn Reid had to pull it off the shelf to read the title. The Origins of Knitting. She groaned. Who would want to read such a boring book? Which was precisely why Ackley would pick this one. Settling on her bottom on the floor, Reid flipped through the ancient book. Nothing fell from between the pages. It didn’t appear to have anything hidden inside. Maybe she’d chosen wrong. She closed the book, setting it on her lap. Although she hadn’t known Ackley that long, she was certain he’d pick a book like this. Opening it again, she meticulously went through it, searching for even a scrap of paper hidden between the pages.

Toward the back, she found what she sought, deftly sliding the missive up her sleeve. After peering up and down the aisle to make sure no one was watching her, she slid the sketch of the ship entitled Widow Maker into the book. She’d scribbled details about Dexter’s meeting with the ship’s captain on the paper. Hopefully, the Knights could investigate further. She’d also noted that Eldon was Henrick’s heir.

She gently closed the book, then re-shelved it.

An elderly gentleman entered the bookshop. “I’ll be right with you, Walter,” the shopkeeper said as she climbed down the ladder. “I have your order on my desk.”