Odd One Out by Monica McInerney Read Free Book Online Page A

that.”
    She took out the piece of paper. “He’s left me the starter clue but I—”
    Max put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”
    “You can’t?”
    He shook his head, eyes still shut. “Seb said no matter how much you begged, you had to figure it out for yourself.”
    “But can you tell me if I’m in the right place? Will I find the book here?”
    He opened one eye. “We’ve got twenty thousand books here so the odds are good. Any questions about them, feel free to ask. Though perhaps not twenty thousand questions this afternoon. We close at seven.”
    “Can you help me at all?”
    “I’m a highly trained bookshop assistant, with a mind like a computer, of course I can help you. But only with book-specific questions.”
    She liked the spark of mischief in his eyes. If he was Sebastian’s new partner, then she approved completely. “Did you have a hand in this?”
    Another grin. “Let me just say that when Sebastian burns the midnight oil or gets a notion about doing something, he doesn’t like doing it on his own. And that’s the last bit of information you’re getting. How about a coffee before you get started?”
    “Could you make it a strong one?”
    Ten minutes later, settled at a table at the back of the shop, a double espresso in front of her, she went over Sebastian’s clue again. She’d read it so many times she knew it off by heart.
    In search of a new and glittering vocation?
    Then, dear Sylvie, travel old-fashioned kilometers
    Across an ancient story-filled river.
    His message was clear. He was telling her she needed to leave Sydney—the “fashion” referred to Vanessa, the “glittering” to Cleo’s jewelry, she’d guessed—to find what she was supposed to be doing with her life. But what river had she crossed—or flown over at least—to get from Sydney to Melbourne? The Murray? Was she supposed to look in books about the Murray River?
    Max was serving an elderly man. She waited a little back from the counter watching him. He had a lovely manner with the customer, friendly but respectful. He looked over and smiled at her as the man left.
    “You’ve solved the puzzle already?”
    “Inching closer every minute. I think I’m onto something. Would you have any books set on or about the Murray River?”
    “Fiction or nonfiction? Or friction or nonfriction, as my grandmother used to say.”
    She smiled. “Either. All. Any.”
    He was very helpful. He checked on the computer, flicked through catalogs, searched the shelves with her.
They found two fiction titles quickly.
The River Kings
by Max Fatchen.
All the Rivers Run
by Nancy Cato. There were also five works of nonfiction. She flicked through the pages of each of them. Nothing.
    “It wouldn’t have fallen out, would it?” she asked. “It’s usually only a little slip of paper.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “How long would it take me to check every book on every shelf here, do you think?”
    “I’ve just done a part-time, manual stocktake so I can tell you—three weeks, two days and one long, heartbreaking final hour. Isn’t that cheating, though? And have you got that long?”
    “Would you mind me working through the night?”
    “Of course not. You can sleep in the poetry section if you need to.”
    “Is that a clue? It’s in the poetry section?”
    “No, I was trying to be funny. The poetry section being the quietest place.” He gave a rueful smile. “Not that funny, obviously. I need new material.”
    “No, it was. It was funny. I was laughing on the inside.”
    He assumed a sad expression. “If you’re looking for me, I’ll be in the comedy self-help section.”
    She returned to the café, still smiling. She read the clue again. It was definitely more complicated than the ones they’d done as children. But the principle was the same, surely. Break it down, Sebastian used to say. Line by line. Make lists of all the possibilities.
    She found