"Oh, I heard it was the safety-deposit vault."
"See? My point is, Nolan's sister doesn't like the way Sandra's treating him, so she might not have told the whole truth."
"Sandra and Nolan?" I asked, surprised.
"That's only what I hear."
"But I always thought he was..." I hesitated.
"Was what?"
"Well, you know. Closeted."
"Come again now?"
"I'm sure we young whippersnappers didn't invent homosexuality, Charles."
"Oh! Nolan, do you think?"
"It's only a personal opinion," I said hurriedly.
"He was in the Navy..." Charles looked thoughtful.
"Now that kind of thinking is why people say we're backwards out in the country," I said, shaking a finger at him.
He shrugged. "Anyway, Michael's not going to boast but he's probably not going to deny it if someone asks him, even if it isn't true. I'd be careful who I tell."
"I'm going to need a chart for this soon," I remarked.
"Well, make sure you take a poll on Nolan."
"Charles! I'm not going to poll Low Ferry about Nolan's sex life. You sure Nolan's sister isn't just embarrassed she told Cassie and Cassie told the whole world?"
"It's possible. You'll keep your ear to the ground, won't you?" he asked.
"Of course. I promise you'll be the first one I tell if I find out Cassie's lying."
"Then I'll check in when you know more," he said, putting his hat back on. "See you on Sunday?"
"See me sleeping in on Sunday."
"Heathen."
"Evangelist. Have a nice day!" I called after him as he left. I returned to the back room, and to my dilemma.
I was sure that plenty of people in Low Ferry would be interested in dirty books, but none of them would admit to it and certainly none of them would ever come to Dusk Books asking for it. There were three or four people in town I could mention them to, on the sly, but that kind of activity could give all kinds of wrong ideas. Besides, some bookstore out there, probably in Chicago, was looking for them.
I could call the supplier, but that would be an endless parade of "please hold" and "press four for more options". I could package them up and ship them back, but I didn't want to pay postage for someone else's mistake.
Or...I could call Marjorie. She knew everything. She'd know exactly who to talk to, and any excuse to call Marjorie was a good one, anyway.
"Eighth Rare Books, Marj speaking," she answered when I called. I heard the clacking of her pencil against her newspaper in the background.
"Marjorie, this is the exile," I said.
"Christopher!"
"Country mouse reporting in."
"Why do you break an old woman's heart, Christopher? I haven't heard from you in weeks," she said.
"Mea culpa, Marj. I've been busy."
"So, you've had two whole customers this week, you don't have time for me?"
"Three," I said.
"Oh, well, never mind then," she answered with a chuckle. "How are you, sweetheart?"
"You know me, I'm always fine. And you? Eighth Rare is thriving?"
"Christopher, I've been running this store for thirty years. If it failed now it wouldn't be my fault."
"What if a Borders moved in across the street?"
"Wouldn't matter. I don't sell to the Borders crowd. My books don't smell like boiled coffee and cardboard pastries."
"I hear they sell aromatherapy kits now," I teased.
"Bite your tongue."
"You could always move out here with me and live the simple life."
"No thank you, dear, I'd know I was old, then."
"I'm not old, and I live here."
"You are older than you know, Christopher. Anyway, what's on your mind? It's early for a social call."
"I have a botched delivery."
"Oh?"
"They sent me porn, Marjorie."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
"What were you trying to get, Christopher?"
"True Crime. And it's not funny."
"Of course not, sweetheart. We wouldn't want your patrons' delicate eyes damaged by the concept of free sexual expression." Marjorie came of age in the sixties. "What kind of pornography, dear?"
"Literotica anthologies. Classy stuff, but not really our bag here in Low Ferry, prime export corn and dairy, population six hundred and thirty-four."
"It was six hundred and thirty-two the last time you called."
"The twins are due in a few months."
"Oh my god, Christopher."
"It's been three years, Marj, you should be used to me telling you these things by now."
"And yet," she said drily. "All right. True Crime, you said? I think Anna said she got a bad shipment yesterday."
"Anna, Anna...owns the Lesbian bookstore on Clark?"
"As if there's only one? And no, she has a little place out in Oak Park. Bored suburbanites and horny teenagers," she added. "Yes, here we go...I meant to call about that. Tell you what, let me talk to Gary in shipping, he'll give you both postage credits and you can just ship them to each other. Do you know Anna? She's great. Pack up the erotica and I'll have her call and give you her address. Do you have an address, or should I just have her ship it to Nowhere, Illinois?"
"You're a gem, Marj," I said. "I owe you."