The next morning, Mayhem and I took a little more circuitous route to the shop. That little piece of paper that Sheriff Mason had mentioned had come to mind as I scrambled an egg that morning – it might have been the turmeric that I threw in for flavor that triggered some hint of a memory, something to do with Main Street. So the hound and I headed out early to see if we could find the source of that nibble.
We walked past the park on the waterfront and took a left through our neighborhood of ranchers and cottages that were the homes to some of St. Marin’s year-round residents. We hung a right on Main Street and went past the sail shop, the garden center, and the stately historic houses that had probably been home to ship builders back in the nineteenth century. As we passed the bookstore
