Clark turned the book over, opened it to the first page, and tapped a note that Jeffrey definitely didn’t remember. “Read,” Clark said.
Hunching over his property protectively, Jeffrey skimmed the piece of paper. Twice. “Wait. This is…I…”
“It’s a letter from Greg Castle, the Ink Art Gallery manager,” Clark supplied when Jeffrey’s tongue wouldn’t unknot itself. “Greg’s brother is on the force, and Daniel knows both of them. Sorry I had to borrow your book, but you wouldn’t let this thing out of your sight otherwise, and how else was I supposed to get your work reviewed and get you an interview?”