Ed "Hmm"s. "You do know we have an expert in espionage in our midst?"
"Carlos?" I say with a laugh. "Carlos spent the seventies on an exclusive mushroom diet and never escaped the hallucinogen-induced fantasy of being an expert in espionage." I place my notebook on Ed's lap, but he ignores it and looks out at the wood-covered headland by the port.
"You know," he says, "I kind of think I believe Carlos. That he did work for MI6 and his whole supposed delusional 'I'm now being watched by MI5 to make sure I don't spill any state secrets' or whatever is a double bluff. No one believes him, because he's set himself up to look like he's an eccentric."
"But why not just say nothing? No one would suspect him of being an MI6 agent anyway if he didn't talk about it."
Ed shrugs his shoulders. "True. I like thinking he actually was one, though. It's a better reality than him thinking he was one out of some state of drug-induced madness."
One of the things I love about Ed is his ability to see the best in people, or, in this case, imagine it. I hope that Ed's in Port Derrum for good. I think I need him in my life.
He picks up the notebook and looks at it for a long time. "I honestly have no idea how to tackle this," he says with what sounds oddly like relief. "It could be anything."
"Make yourself useful then and help me find who's delivering them. They managed to get into the office area and put one of the books on your chair, for goodness sake. It shouldn't be too hard to notice. They have to be a regular library user. Look for the ones that blend in, like an elderly person, or a harried mum with an energetic toddler. Actually that's good cover that. It would give them the excuse of getting around the library and in places they're not allowed."
"Do you know how many people come into the library?"
"No, but I'm guessing you're going to say 'a lot'."
"A lot. A lot for a little library. We get tourists coming in, too. It's not just local users."
"But there's two of you there. How can both of you miss someone sneaking around putting books in strange places?"
"The operative word being 'two'. There'sonlytwo of us. It's not many eyes for watching a lot of people."
I growl and throw the hand not holding my glass in the air. "How do I solve this if it's too obscure? I'm beginning to wonder if the person delivering the letters wants me to."
"Maybe. Or maybe you're meant to get all of the letters before it makes sense."
Emitting a sigh, I say, "I hope you're right, because I can't see a pattern anywhere. Not in the subject matter, not in the names and the titles. I don't want to even think about the numbers." I look over at Ed. "You're one of the most intelligent people I know. If you haven't got a clue, I don't have a chance."
Ed looks back at me, surprise on his face. "Am I?"
"Well, yeah. How do you not know how smart you are? And you have exceptional emotional intelligence."
His eyes dart away from mine and he shifts in his seat.
"Why are you uneasy about that comment? Aren't you all comfortable in your 'I'm in touch with my emotions'-flavoured man-skin? That kind of praise has never embarrassed you before."
"I'm not embarrassed. I'm..." he trails off.
"Is it complicated again?"
He runs a hand through his thick hair and it momentarily stays balanced on top of his head before falling back into place over his eyes. He could really do with a haircut. "Yeah. It's complicated as fuck."
Ed has never not told me stuff. We've always been completely open and unafraid to talk about our deepest, darkest thoughts with each other. This isn't like him and I don't like it. "What's going on with you? Are you okay?"
When he still doesn't say anything, I offer, "Okay. I'll start with sharing stuff that's not easy to share. And then it's your turn."
Ed looks at me with a crease between his brows, which is not much of an indication of agreement, but I can tell he wants to know what I'm about to share.
So I take a deep breath, let it out, and chase another one. Here goes. "That 'B', right at the start, has the strangest effect. It feels like the letters could be written to me. That I'm his 'B'. That one little letter is so unsettling. But also...kind of exhilarating."
Ed looks away from me and down into his drink.
"What? What are you thinking?"
He shifts in his seat and the ice cubes clink against each other. "I, ah. I can see how it might have that effect on you."
