He wandered over. “I was here Saturday. I’m a big fan.”
Mae, her purple-streaked dark hair pulled back, wore jeans and a T-shirt that said Run As If Mr. Collins Just Proposed. She looked up from her task. “I know you, don’t I?”
“Alden Knox with The Courier-Beacon.”
“That’s right. You got a copy of her novel, didn’t you?”
“I got one Saturday. And I have all her books.” A handful of Enolia’s other titles filled out the table.
Mae nodded, straightening the piles. “I can’t keep them in stock. She’s really good. But I guess if you already have your book, you’re not here to buy another one?” Her smile was wary.
“You guessed right. I’m writing a follow-up story about what happened behind the store that day.”
Mae looked around, nudged one more book so it aligned with the others, and sighed. “Come on back to the office. I don’t want to harsh the vibe in here, you know?”
“Sure.”
He followed her to the back hallway, the one that led to the street behind the shops, then took a right turn into her windowless office. It was pretty small, but Mae seemed organized. The desk was mostly clutter-free, except for a crystal ball, a gargoyle that doubled as a pen holder, and a neat stack of papers. Filing cabinets spoke to a sense of order. But that didn’t mean the space was austere. Colorful posters featured classic book covers of Frankenstein and Dracula. Special editions filled a bookcase alongside literary bric-a-brac, including a replica of the Maltese falcon and an Edgar Allan Poe bobble head. In fact, the knickknacks had a distinct spooky tone: a crocheted black bird—a raven, presumably, given Poe—along with ornate purple and black LED candles, tiny witches and wizards, and lots of skulls, many of them sparkly. They called to mind Mae’s tattoos. Did she have a fascination with death? Or was she just fashionably gothic?
“Love the falcon.” Alden sat in the chair in front of the desk as she sat behind it.
“Isn’t it great? I love that movie. Love the book, too, but the movie is perfection.”
Alden grinned. “Great to meet a fellow movie fan.” Then his smile faded. “The man who died Saturday was in the movie business.”
Mae nodded. “I’d heard that from Aunt Nola.”
Alden’s forehead wrinkled. And then it hit him. “Aunt Nola? Is she?—?”
A corner of Mae’s mouth lifted. “I suppose I shouldn’t be outing her, but yes, Enolia Honeywood is my aunt.” She suddenly looked worried. “Can you keep that out of the story?”
“I suppose it depends on whether your relationship is relevant to the story, but I understand her need for privacy and will do my best.”
“That would be great. I really don’t want her annoyed with me right now. Not when she’s been so good to me.”
Questions filled Alden’s head. “Oh yeah? I want to know more about that. Do you mind if I record this, just to get the quotes right?”
Mae looked nervous, but she agreed, and he switched on his phone’s recording app.
“So,” he said, “I’m guessing your aunt’s real last name isn’t Honeywood. What is it? Just for background.”
Mae swallowed. “You’re not going to publish it?”
Alden gave her a reassuring smile. “How about this—I won’t publish it unless it’s important and it comes from another source. I think it’ll be fine. OK?”
Her eyes flashed with something serious, almost angry, before she returned his smile. “OK. I’m counting on you.”
“Great.” Why was she so tense? “Her full name? I mean real name?”
“Nola Middleton.”
Same last name as Mae. So perhaps related on her father’s side. “And she’s helping you out? You mean by appearing at the bookstore?”
“Oh, yeah, that helped a ton.” Mae settled back in her chair, seeming more relaxed. “It’s tough running a brick-and-mortar bookstore these days. We focus on community events, book clubs, everything to keep people coming back and engaged. But some months it’s still hard to make the rent, and I’ve got a leaky roof. I love this old building, but it needs a lot of TLC. My aunt plans to make a significant investment in the shop—that’s not for public consumption, by the way. Anyway, she’s great.”
Alden contained his frustration. Sources who declared everything off the record after it popped out of their mouths drove him crazy. It would be fun sorting out the quotes later. “She was kind to us, too. Very generous with her time. Roz and I interviewed her at her house. Beautiful place. There was a photo of you two on the bookshelves.”
“You saw her house? Isn’t it gorgeous? And yeah, she and I are buddies. My mom died when I was a teenager, and Aunt Nola was always the cool aunt I could talk to about things.”
