The old bookstore smelled of ink and dust as Margaret flipped through the ledger. Mr. Oakes, the owner, had vanished the night before, leaving only a locked door and a toppled chair in his office.
She noticed something odd—Tuesday’s sales were much higher than usual. A single title, “The Obsidian Key,” had been purchased in bulk. Margaret recalled Oakes’ warning that some books held secrets worth killing for.
A creak sounded behind her. She turned to see Mr. Rourke, the shop’s quiet regular, watching her too intently. He had been in yesterday, asking if Oakes had “the rare edition.”
Margaret stepped back. “You took him, didn’t you? The book contained something valuable.”
Rourke’s face twisted before he bolted, but officers arrived just in time. Hidden inside the book’s spine were rare war bonds—Oakes had realized their worth too late. They found him, bound but safe, in Rourke’s attic.
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