CHAPTER TEN
Jenna hoped that she and Jake weren’t just wasting time here as they followed Leith back through the main area of the Dénouement Café.
Several of the bookstore patrons looked up as though they expected to chat, but this time the bookshop owner didn’t stop for any of them.
With nothing more than a wave, she plowed right past her patrons, heading for a back corner of the store.
"Here we are," Leith announced when they reached a display case where books were visible through the slightly darkened glass sides. Her voice took on a reverent quality as she added, "My most prized possessions."
Peering into the case, Jenna could see rows of leather-bound volumes, their spines cracked with age, titles faded to near illegibility on some.
Leith’s usual dreamy demeanor had hardened into something more protective, like a mother guarding her children. Her expression was serious and her voice stern as she told them, “These are absolutely not for sale. Not at any price.”
Jake caught Jenna's eye, one eyebrow raised slightly in amusement at Leith's sudden shift in temperament.
“I understand,” Jenna suppressed a smile. “They look quite valuable.”
“Value is such a limiting concept,” Leith replied, fishing a small key and a pair of pale blue vinyl gloves from a pocket of her purple dress.
“These books aren't merely worth money. They're worth history, worth wisdom. This case isn’t perfect for them, but it does provide some temperature control and keeps out the most damaging light.”
She put on the gloves, which looked to Jenna much like those that she used when collecting evidence, then inserted the key in the lock. As the lock clicked open, Leith added, "This book contain a certain kind of truth that's worth knowing about."
With her gloved hands, Leith carefully extracted a volume bound in dark brown leather. The book was substantial, its edges worn but still gilded, its corners rounded from centuries of handling.
“What is it?” Jenna asked.
“Grimms' Fairy Tales,” Leith announced, cradling the tome as if it were an infant. “First English edition, translated directly from the German original. Uncensored.” She emphasized this last word, her eyes flicking meaningfully between Jenna and Jake.
Leith carried the book to a nearby reading table. “This light is all right for a quick look. No sunlight, nothing harsh or immediately damaging.”
She placed the old book down gently and opened it carefully, the spine crackling slightly in protest.
“The brothers Grimm,” she explained, “collected these tales from oral traditions.
They weren't creating bedtime stories for children—they were documenting cultural artifacts, preserving folk wisdom that would otherwise have been lost.” Her fingers traveled down the page, searching.
“Ah, here we are. 'Little Red-Cap.' You probably know her better as Little Red Riding Hood.”
The story with a wolf in it, Jenna remembered. Although the well-known children’s tale had flashed through her mind at the murder scene, she hadn’t really considered any possible connection to the school-teacher’s murder.
Leith continued, “Modern renditions have sanitized all of these old tales beyond recognition. Take this one as an example. The first part unfolds much as you'd expect. Little girl wearing a red hood, grandmother's house, big bad wolf.”
Jenna watched Leith's hands, pale and thin, as they caressed the yellowed pages.
“But here's where modern versions diverge,” Leith continued. “In the bedtime stories your parents read to you, or in the cartoon versions, what happens to the grandmother?”
Jake shrugged. “The wolf locks her in a closet? I don't really remember.”
“And the wolf himself?” Leith prodded.
“A huntsman shoots him?” Jake replied. “Or maybe just scares him away?”
“So bloodless,” Leith said with a disappointed click of her tongue.
“So... neutered. The Grimm brothers understood something that we've forgotten—that darkness serves a purpose in storytelling. And sometimes it’s something we need to know about everyday life.” She turned the book toward them, pointing to a specific passage. “Look here.”
Jenna leaned forward, her eyes scanning the faded print. The text described the wolf devouring the grandmother whole, at a single gulp, then disguising himself as the grandmother for the infamous “what big teeth you have” exchange and doing the same to Little Red Riding Hood.
“He swallowed them,” she murmured.
“Whole and alive,” Leith confirmed. “And now for the passage I particularly wanted to show you, this is about the huntsman.” She cleared her throat and began to read aloud:
“'Then just as he was going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured the grandmother, and that she might still be saved, so he did not fire, but took a pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf.'“
Jenna’s eyes met Jake's, and she saw the same recognition. The wolf with a body inside. Too similar to Claudia's murder to be coincidental. “Cut open the stomach,” she said aloud. “I don’t remember seeing that in any kid’s storybook.”
With a wry smile, Leith continued, her voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of a practiced storyteller: “'When he had made two snips, he saw the little Red-Cap shining, and then he made two snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying: “Ah, how frightened I have been! How dark it was inside the wolf”; and after that the aged grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe. '“
Jenna forced her face to remain impassive, not wanting to give away how directly the passage connected to their investigation.
The methodical cutting, finding the victims inside.
It was all there, grotesquely mirrored in Claudia Kingsley's murder.
Except that in the old story the ones who were swallowed got out alive.
“And it gets better,” Leith said. “Red-Cap doesn't just escape and live happily ever after.
Listen: 'Red-Cap, however, quickly fetched great stones with which they filled the wolf's belly, and when he awoke, he wanted to run away, but the stones were so heavy that he collapsed at once, and fell dead. '“
She closed the book with a soft thud that seemed to punctuate the story's violent conclusion.
“So you see,” Leith said, tilting her head at Jenna with unnerving perceptiveness, “I'm rather curious what this might have to do with poor Claudia's death. I'm pretty sure she wasn't killed by a wolf, much less eaten or swallowed whole by one.”
Jenna kept her expression carefully neutral. She hadn't mentioned any details of Claudia's death to Leith—not the wolf in the tree, not the positioning of the body. She’d only asked whether there was a fairy tale about cutting open a wolf's belly.
“So you think this particular story might have something to do with Claudia?” she asked.
Leith shrugged, a gesture that somehow managed to be both dismissive and knowing.
“Sheriff Graves, you didn't come to my stockroom to discuss my inventory methods. You mentioned a death. You asked about a certain story.” Her smile was sharp.
“I know a thing or two about wolves, you know. They almost never really attack people. Their reputation for violence is largely undeserved, a projection of human fears onto the natural world.”
Jake said. “We appreciate your insight, Ms. Walsh.”
“Leith, please,” she corrected him automatically. “Ms. Walsh makes me sound like someone's spinster aunt.”
Jenna considered her next move carefully. The connection was too valuable to dismiss, but she couldn't share details of an active investigation.
“Could I borrow this book?” she asked. “I'll be extremely careful with it.”
Leith's eyes widened in genuine horror. “Absolutely not! This is a first edition—it's worth thousands. It's irreplaceable.” She slid the book back toward herself protectively. “But if you're really interested, you can find the original text online. The Grimms' work is in the public domain now.”
“I'll look into that,” Jenna said, making a mental note to do exactly that as soon as she could.
Leith carefully returned the book to its place in the display case, locking it securely before turning back to them. Her expression had shifted again, becoming more distant, almost dreamy.
“You know,” she said softly, “the Grimm brothers would have found Trentville fascinating. All this darkness rising up lately...” She trailed off, her gaze drifting toward the window where afternoon light streamed in, dusty and golden. “'And this also has been one of the dark places of the earth.'“
Jenna waited for an explanation of that quote, but Leith seemed lost in thought. “What do you mean by that?” she finally prompted.
Leith blinked, as if surprised to find them still standing there.
“Oh! It's from Heart of Darkness. Joseph Conrad. It refers to the Thames near London—suggesting that even the centers of civilization were once savage places.” Suddenly animated again, she continued, “Conrad understood that the veneer of civilization is paper-thin.
'The mind of man is capable of anything—because everything is in it, all the past as well as all the future. '“
Those words hit too close to home for Jenna, resonating with her own experiences of the darkness that could lurk in seemingly ordinary places—and people.
Then, like a light switch being flipped, Leith's demeanor brightened. “Would you two like some coffee? Perhaps a pastry? On the house, of course. The least I can do for Trentville's finest.”
The abrupt shift was jarring, but Jenna was growing accustomed to Leith's conversational whiplash.
“Thank you for the offer,” she said, “but we should be on our way. You've been very helpful.”
“Have I?” Leith asked, her smile suggesting she knew exactly how helpful she'd been. “Well, that's good to hear. Do come back if you need more... literary insights.”
Then with a sly wink, she added, “And, oh, by the way—in case you’re starting to think I’m … well, a suspicious character, I was here in this building whenever Claudia was killed. I live upstairs, and I practically never go out. Any of these people here can tell you that.”
Jenna knew that Leith had that sort of reputation, and as weird as the conversation had gotten, she didn’t doubt that Leith was no killer. Her every instinct told her that Leith was too otherworldly, too lost in her world of words to commit murder.
Jake held the door open as they stepped out into the afternoon sun. The brightness felt cleansing after the dimness of the bookstore, but the shadows in Jenna's mind remained.
She and Jake walked in silence to their parked cruiser. Once inside, with the doors closed against the outside world, he turned to her.
“That wasn't a coincidence,” he said, not bothering to specify what “that” was. He didn't need to.
“No,” Jenna agreed, staring through the windshield at nothing in particular. “Our killer is recreating the Grimm version of Little Red Riding Hood. The scissors, the cutting open...” She couldn't finish the thought aloud.
“So what does that tell us? That we're looking for someone with a fairy tale fixation? Someone who's read the original Grimm stories? Who’s determined to show us the real story?”
“It tells us we're dealing with someone deliberate. Someone who wants us to make that connection. They're not just killing—they're communicating.”
“But communicating what?”
“I don't know.” Jenna frowned, frustration tightening her jaw. “It could be a warning. It could be a challenge. Hell, it could be their twisted idea of art.”
The implications settled over them. If this was just the beginning—if the killer was working through some kind of fairy tale compulsion—there would likely be more victims to come.
“There's something else,” Jake said after a moment. “In the story, the wolf swallows the grandmother and Red Riding Hood whole. They're still alive when they're cut out.”
“That’s right. But Claudia was already dead when she was... when the killer stuffed her inside. So our killer is adapting the story, not following it exactly.”
“Which means what? That they're improvising? Or that there's more to their plan than we can see yet?”
Jenna had no idea what to say, or even to think.
“Let’s go to the station to regroup,” she said.
As she started to drive, she knew that the once-peaceful community she'd sworn to protect was changing, growing darker, threatened by something she didn't fully understand, something that seemed to be drawing on dark currents she couldn't quite grasp.
And whatever that was, it was just getting started.
That quote from Joseph Conrad echoed through her mind …
“And this also has been one of the dark places of the earth.”