The bald guy in the front row turned to Craig, allowing me to see his face. There was real hate in his eyes, and for the brief second I saw him before he turned back, I thought he looked familiar.

“I’m right though, ain’t I, Wilson?” Craig asked as though nothing had happened between him and the bald guy.

“Yes, but not just any copy of Tom Sawyer. You must remember, Drake wrote the code in 1895 and Tom Sawyer was first published in 1876, so it’s anybody’s guess which version was used. The wrong edition will throw off the word count.”

Wilson was about to continue when a gray haired woman sitting in the row ahead of me raised her hand.

“Yes, Patty?” Evidently she wasn’t his mother, or he wouldn’t have used her first name.

“Perhaps the old miner was using one of the pirated Canadian versions.” She spoke so softly, I had a hard time hearing her.

Craig was still standing and turned to face the timid woman. “A what version?” he demanded.

Wilson answered for her. “I believe the question was about Canadian versions that were copied from the London edition. Is that your question, Patty?”

She nodded her head without speaking.

Craig cut in again. “You mean my first edition might not be the right version?”

Wilson’s eyes seemed to dilate. They had been a light gray, but were now pure black. “You have a first edition of Tom Sawyer?” he asked. “My God, do you have any idea what that’s worth?”

Shelia, who hadn’t uttered a word during the debate, suddenly nudged Craig in the leg and told him to shut up. “Look who’s the idiot now. Why don’t you tell everyone where we live while you’re at it, so they can come and rob us tonight?”

“What? Who would steal that old thing? Didn’t he just tell you we don’t have the right copy anyway? And I don’t need no woman telling me I’m a frigging idiot.” He didn’t wait for her to answer and stormed out without her, slamming the door so hard it shook the glass walls at the front of the store. Shelia followed on his heels. She reminded me of Fred when I yelled at him for doing something bad. I’m sure if she had a tail, it would be between her legs.

“Miss? Wait up. I need to talk to you.” Those who were watching Shelia turned to see the old lady jump out of her chair and run after her; we had no problem hearing her this time.

Shelia looked annoyed, but slowed down long enough for the old lady to catch up. “Do I know you?”

They had everyone’s attention, including the author. “I may have one of those pirate copies, if you’re interested. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

Fred yelped when Bonnie jumped out of her seat and stepped on his foot. “I need to tell Patty your copy isn’t for sale, Jake, before she sells it to them.”

“You know her, too?” I asked, running after Bonnie with Fred at my heels. He wasn’t limping, so I doubt if he was hurt, since she couldn’t weigh a hundred pounds, and that’s when she carried her ten-pound purse. She probably scared him more than anything. I caught her before she got to the door.

“Is that why you brought me here? To sell the copy of Tom Sawyer Julie gave me?” I asked before noticing we were now the center of attention. I turned to the audience and uttered a lame apology before leading Bonnie and Fred outside.

Shelia and Patty were in the midst of a heated conversation while standing next to a beat-up Camry not much newer than my Jeep. I could have been wrong about them arguing, but they were both waving their arms in the air like a couple of prize fighters. Craig had already started the car and was revving the engine. We couldn’t hear the argument over his noisy muffler.

“Damn it,” Bonnie said. Her posture spelled defeat. “I can’t tell her now, not with Shelia there.”

I felt bad for raising my voice, but didn’t have time to say so before Shelia got in the car. We all watched as Craig raced out of the parking lot in a cloud of blue smoke.

Patty turned and came back toward us, smiling. She could easily pass for Bonnie’s sister if I didn’t know better. They each stood about five-two, had the same cloudy-blue eyes and didn’t bother to dye their gray hair.

Bonnie bent down to Fred’s level and held his head between her hands. “I’m sorry, Freddie. Did Aunt Bonnie hurt you?” Before he could bark his answer, she looked up at me. “I should have asked first. I thought you’d be happy to get the money for your book.”

“Is this Fred the Wonder Dog?” Patty asked when she joined us.

Fred beamed and offered his paw.

“See, I told you, Patty. I swear he’s human sometimes,” Bonnie remarked.

Then turning to me, “Jake, I’d like you to meet an old friend. Patty, this is Jake.”

Patty extended a frail hand. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”

I didn’t know how to answer. The first thing that came to mind was to say Bonnie must be smoking something other than cigarettes, but I held my tongue. Luckily, Bonnie broke the awkward silence before I put my foot in my mouth.

“I hope your friend doesn’t think we were rude running out on his reading, but I had to tell you Jake’s book isn’t for sale.”

Patty sighed before answering. “Why don’t you tell Paul yourself when he drives me home, Bonnie? I’m sure he won’t mind dropping you off first.”

Bonnie looked confused. “Paul? Oh, the author.”

Her blank expression turned ecstatic, looking at me like a teenager who was just invited to the prom. “Do you mind, Jake?”

I couldn’t speak for Fred, but after the day I had, I didn’t mind at all. We said our good-byes and headed for home.

***

I had completely forgotten about the incident at the lake until the next day when Fred and I made our way to Bonnie’s for coffee before going on our walk, or in Fred’s case, his swim. Bonnie lived just below us in a house built back in the seventies that resembled the structures covering old mines; she called it her mine shaft. Whatever architectural style one wanted to pin on it, it was huge compared to my little cabin and sometimes a little too close.

She put the television on mute after letting us in the back door. I helped myself to coffee while Fred went over to his bowl that Bonnie kept by her refrigerator.

“You came home late,” I said as I took my usual chair at her kitchen table. I knew this because her television was off all night. I never watch much television, mainly because I don’t own one, but Bonnie does. She has it blasting nearly twenty-four-seven, and I never miss an episode of Doctor Oz or Ellen when her windows are open.

She removed a spoon from her cup and looked up. Her eyes showed bewilderment. “What makes you say that, Jake?”

“Your TV wasn’t on.”

She frowned and went back to stirring her coffee. “Well, if you must know, that nice author took us to the Wildflower for coffee, then we all went next door to the Little Bear for a few drinks before he brought me home.” Her tone suggested I was intruding.

“Sorry, Bon, just trying to make conversation,” I said before jumping out of my chair to turn the sound back on the television when I saw the jerk from the lake flash by on the screen. The news reporter was saying something about a burglary and a murder. I grabbed for Bonnie’s remote and hit the back button. She had a DVR that allowed her to reverse or pause whatever she had been watching.

Bonnie stopped stirring her coffee again. I once remarked that if she drank cream instead of coffee, she could turn it into butter. She pointed at the television with her spoon. “Isn’t that’s Shelia’s new boyfriend? What’s he doing on TV?”

“Shelia’s been murdered,” I answered, realizing Bonnie must have missed the part about Shelia checking out.

It looked like she was going to drop the spoon. Her face went blank, and she stared at the television before speaking again. “Murdered?”

“So it seems. Someone stuck her in the neck with a nail file and punctured her carotid artery.”