I took a couple of deep breaths to steady myself. “I still have some business with Julian Farrow that I would like to take care of before I go home.”

“I’ll walk you over,” Officer Grimshaw said.

“Could Officer Osgood do that?” Ilya asked. “I can hold the bag with Ms. DeVine’s valuables while she runs her errand.”

Grimshaw hesitated, then looked at Osgood. “Officer?”

Osgood swallowed hard. He wasn’t dill pickle green like the bank manager had been yesterday, but his brown skin did have a green tinge. “Yes, sir.”

I wondered whom he feared more, me or Swinn? But I didn’t ask, didn’t make some lame joke designed to hurt feelings. I didn’t want to be caught alone by Swinn either, and I was grateful for any escort, even if I should have been adult enough not to need one.

It turned out Officer Osgood and I both had an escort. The Sproingers formed two lines, a hopping honor guard for us to walk between as we crossed the street to Lettuce Reed.

Julian Farrow opened the screen door as we approached. The Sproingers sproinged into the shop, then clustered around the door. I hurried over to the island in the center of the front room.

“I handed out carrots this morning,” Julian told the Sproingers.

They all gave him the happy face, but none of them crowded him as if they expected food.

Julian nodded to Officer Osgood, who took a position between me and the Sproingers, as if he couldn’t decide what was more dangerous. I guess he hadn’t seen them before. Otherwise he would have known he would be safe unless he wore orange socks. Apparently orange is the color of carrots and pumpkins, another Sproinger favorite food, and their little brains couldn’t quite understand that not everything that was orange was tasty or food.

Or else they just liked biting things that were orange, and woe to the ankle under the orange sock.

“You look a bit flushed, Vicki,” Julian said. “Would you like some water?”

“Yes. Thanks.” I felt a little sick and desperately needed to regain control.

“Officer?”

“Thank you,” Osgood said.

While we waited for Julian, I eyed the stacks of books on the island—books that had been returned for used-book credit but hadn’t been processed yet to be put on the shelves.

Julian returned with a large wooden tray that held three glasses of water and a small dog bowl of water. He set the bowl near the door. I’m not sure any of the Sproingers drank any of the water, but they seemed to have a good time giving each other a bit of a splash before grooming.

Despite the splashing, at least half of them watched whatever was going on outside, standing on each other in order to look out the screen door.

Maybe their brains weren’t so little. And maybe those ankle-biting incidents weren’t mistakes caused by orange socks. At least, not all of them.

“Are you browsing, or are you looking for specific titles?” Julian asked.

Recalled to my task, I leaned forward. “I have some friends who really liked the cop and crime shows on TV last night and probably would enjoy reading thrillers, but I don’t think they have the reading skills for the books I already have at The Jumble.” I didn’t want to buy something inappropriate that could sour their anticipated pleasure in visiting the story place—or sour their opinion of me.

“Would those friends be your new employees?” Julian had a knack for figuring things out. Oddly enough, he was rubbish at playing Murder, a board game where you tried to figure out who was murdered and how they died.

“Have you met Conan and Cougar?”

“Yeesss.”

I went up on my tiptoes so I could lean a little farther before whispering, “I don’t want to insult them by offering kiddie books. They are adults after all. But I don’t want them frustrated either.” And I didn’t want them to blame me for being frustrated.

Julian stared at the counter. Then he looked at me. “Wait here.”

Officer Osgood relaxed enough to look at the bookshelves closest to him, and I watched the Sproingers. The ones who noticed me watching made the happy face; the rest of them blocked the doorway and stared at something in the street.

Julian returned with a large stack of books. He set them on the counter, then held one up so that I could read the title and see the cover.

“The Wolf Team?”

He nodded. “They’re stories about a group of adolescents with special skills who help . . . beings . . . in trouble.”

Did they have a phone number? I could be a being who needed help.

“They’re written for terra indigene youngsters.” Julian opened the book to a random page and held it out. “Take a look.”

I didn’t know the characters or their mission because Julian had opened the book a few chapters into the story, but I started reading midway down the page just to get a feel for the language and decide if I should add a couple of the books to my guest library.

Oh.

Ew.

Goodness! Could terra indigene Wolves really do that?

A hand came down on the book, and I . . . squeaked . . . and jumped back as far as my arms allowed without giving up the book and losing my place. After all, I did have priorities.

My heart pounded. My lungs strained against muscles that were corset tight. I heard chattering behind me, followed by the thumps of several things hitting the floor. I stared at Julian and realized he looked as startled by my reaction as I felt.

And then there was the weird way my slacks were twitching at knee height.

Maybe I should reorder my priorities until we sorted out the whole thing about the dead man.

Julian lifted his hand off the book and offered a wary smile. “Maybe you’d like to take the book with you and start reading from the beginning?”

Why would Julian be wary of me? I turned my head just enough to see the handful of books at Officer Osgood’s feet—probably the thumps I’d heard when I squeaked in alarm.

Something patted my knee. I looked down at the Sproinger standing next to me. The Sproinger looked up at me and patted my knee again, a silent query.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. I’m fine.” I smiled at the critter.

The Sproinger made the happy face and returned to his buddies. They all looked at me and made the happy face before resuming sentry duty.

I went back to staring at Julian. “He understood what I said.” Actually, I didn’t know if that particular Sproinger had a vigorous appendage. That wasn’t important. The fact that Sproingers understood human speech was important. Gods, they hopped around the village every morning, cadging treats from most of the businesses or browsing in people’s yards.

“Uh-huh.” Julian sounded like it wasn’t the least bit important, and I took the hint. Sproingers probably knew every secret in the village, and if the people realized the critters not only heard but understood those secrets, there would be a lot fewer people handing out carrots.

But that sidestepped the real question. If the Sproingers understood everything, or almost everything, that was being said around them, whom did they tell? And how would they interpret the past few minutes and my squeak of alarm—and who might get blamed for alarming me?

I suddenly understood why Julian felt wary. “I zoned out.”

“You got caught up in the story. That’s a good sign. Do you want the series?” He held up a hand as if I had already protested that I couldn’t afford them. “The human females in the early books are wimps. I fully acknowledge the lack of understanding about your gender, so don’t come back and snarl at me about it. However, I’d heard that some of the writers of the Wolf Team books spent a few weeks in Lakeside last winter while planning some new stories, and the human female pack attached to the Courtyard helped them adjust their thinking, to say nothing of their attitude. The human girls in the latest story still can’t take on the bad guys by themselves—it is a Wolf Team story, after all—but they’re more kick-ass. Or as kick-ass as human females with no special powers beyond intelligence and good hearts can be.”

“I can’t burn through my whole book budget.” I eyed the books, willing to be persuaded because, darn it, I wanted to find out what happened!