She had a firm belief that you could tell a lot about a person based on the contents of their bookshelves. They served as a miniature table of contents, as it were. This bookcase, however, revealed nothing. It contained the most generic, least eye-catching books imaginable. The only thing standing out was the high prevalence of crime novels, but that in itself said nothing

Perhaps, she mused, there were some intriguing clue in the fact that some crime authors were present and not others, some hidden divide plain to those in the know. She, alas, could glean no such insight