When I got back to the shop that afternoon, the place was full of people quietly reading or sipping coffee. Mart gave me a wave from the register as I came in and gestured toward the fiction section, where Sheriff Mason was reading the back cover of an Inspector Gamache mystery. “Didn’t take you for a police procedural kind of guy, Sheriff?”
“You know, I’m probably not. Somehow, reading about a murder in a small town isn’t really appealing just now.” He carefully slid the book back into its spot and aligned the spine with the rest of the shelf. “Maybe when I retire though.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d worked in a bookstore before.” I gestured toward the tidy shelf.
“Right about now, I’d take the quiet of books,” he looked toward the storeroom door, “although it hasn’t exactl
