Free In the Drink by Allyson K Abbott Page A

do calligraphy and wondered if you could direct me to the appropriate supplies. I own a bar downtown and I’m thinking of redoing my menus and using the calligraphy to fancy them up.”
    The young man, whose name tag read ADAM , nodded and said, “Sure.” Then he looked at Malachi with a curious expression. “Are you interested in calligraphy, too?”
    Malachi held up a hand and shook his head. “No, I’m just along for the ride. She wanted to stop here before we go to dinner. But as long as I’m here, I could use some new leads for my mechanical pencil.”
    Adam nodded. “Those would be in aisle three, over there.” He pointed off to the left, and then shifted his attention to me. “If you come with me, I’ll show you some stuff for the calligraphy.”
    Malachi wandered off in the direction of aisle three while I followed Adam toward the back of the store.
    â€œYou’ll want to start off with some pens and ink,” Adam said as we walked, “and there are special types of paper, too, if you want, though they aren’t absolutely necessary.”
    â€œWhat’s so special about the inks?”
    â€œThey tend to be more water based than the usual inks,” Adam explained. “It helps with the flow. I have lots of the premade stuff, or if you prefer being a bit more hardcore, I can provide you with a recipe for making your own and the necessary supplies to do so.”
    I thought about the unusual smell present in the ink used in the letter and figured a recipe was the more likely avenue. Perhaps the smell of one of the ingredients in the recipe would trigger a connection for me between it and the smell of the letter. “I’m thinking hardcore,” I said. “It sounds like fun and I am a mixologist of sorts. Is it a complicated process?”
    â€œNot if you stick to the basics, though there are some professional calligraphers who get crazy mixing up their own stuff.”
    We had reached the back of the store and Malachi was no longer in view, off in his own section. Adam pointed to a shelf on the back wall that held an assortment of fountain pens, nibs, and ink wells. “This is the most popular pen here,” he said, grabbing one. “It has interchangeable nibs but comes equipped with a basic one.”
    â€œSold,” I said, smiling.
    He handed me the packaged pen and then took down a recipe box from another shelf. He opened it and I saw it was filled with index cards. He grabbed one from the front. “This is the most popular black ink recipe,” he said. I started to take it but he pulled it back at the last second and cocked his head. “What’s your name?” he asked.
    â€œMackenzie Dalton.”
    â€œI thought so,” he said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “I received a package the other day that had some money and instructions in it. It said I was supposed to deliver a message if a woman named Mackenzie with fiery red hair came in asking about calligraphy or inks.”
    My heart began to race.
    â€œBut the instructions said you were supposed to be alone,” Adam added.
    â€œI would have been, but I had a friend fix me up with this blind date and I didn’t have a way to get out of it gracefully. Plus, I’m in a bit of a time crunch.” I gave him my best charming smile.
    â€œSo you were expecting a message?”
    â€œI was hoping for one, yes. Was it a man or a woman who gave you these instructions?”
    â€œNeither, technically. The instructions were typed out and they came by courier along with a hundred bucks. I have to say, the whole thing is kind of . . . odd.”
    â€œI’m sure it seems so,” I said, thinking fast. “But it’s just a game I play with some online friends, sort of a treasure hunt thing, you know? I haven’t met the other players, but one of the objectives is to garner clues about the person who is