Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery Boxed Set, page 20
part #1 of Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery Series
“I believe we’ll uncover that Vance is a very skilled hacker and computer technician. I think he used his knowledge of those traveling to Canada along with his skills to place and then trace the cameras he and Preston—and at one point Mary—planted to plan their heists.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“Of course it’ll have to be proved with evidence,” Henrietta said. “But I think there should be some sort of trail left. Right, Scott?”
“So what happened to Mary?” Olivia asked, her forehead pinched in concern.
“Hopefully, we’ll uncover the answer to that from either Preston or Vance.”
The clock on the stove ticked to a quarter to four, and Henrietta stifled a yawn. “I think we should all go home and try to get some sleep.”
“It’s been a long case,” Scott observed. “And a long night.”
“Olivia, do you need a ride home?” Henrietta asked.
“I’ll take her,” Scott offered, his expression hopeful but not overly so.
“Thank you, that would be great.”
They stood and Henrietta walked them to the door. She watched them walk down her back steps and climb into Scott’s car. It was in that moment that she hoped beyond hope that something would come of the two of them. Perhaps it was her intuition or her romantic heart, but she saw what could be not only a wonderful friendship but a beautiful relationship, if they could see it for what it was.
Sighing, she closed the door and locked it. Sepia waited for her, sitting in the middle of the hall with the same smile of satisfaction propping up her whiskers.
“You meddled tonight,” she said to the cat. “And I thank you for it.”
In true cat-fashion, she turned around and padded down the hall without a backward glance.
13
The sounds of live Celtic music wafted in through the open door. With the fire blazing in the hearth, Henrietta didn’t mind the open door. It welcomed customers more fully and allowed in much of the atmosphere from outside.
“Things are going well,” Olivia commented.
“More than,” she agreed. They had done a good business from the time they opened until now. Things were slowly starting to taper off, but that was to be expected. Most people came in waves. She expected to see more in the evening for the lighting event. They strung white lights up all around the town and turned them on at dusk. It would be a truly beautiful sight.
She had made the decision to stay open for that, having Scott string up white lights on the front of the shop as well as the fence lining the street. It would be fun to join in the festivities, and a bit like a fresh beginning for the fall and winter season.
“There you are.”
She looked up to see Ralph framed by the light from outside. His grin spread across his rough features, and she felt her heart squeeze at the sight of him. It was a feeling of familiarity as much as it was a connection to a long-standing friend. Those types of friends were few and far between, and she was thankful—so thankful—in that moment for him.
“Care to stroll through the streets with me?” he asked, offering her a jaunty smile.
She laughed and looked over at Olivia. “Go,” the woman said, “I’ll be fine here.”
“Thank you,” she said, accepting Ralph’s arm.
“Are you disappointed?” she asked when they were outside.
“That the teaching gig was a sham? Yeah, a little.” He sighed, and she wished she could have changed the outcome for him. It was only when he got into Seattle that he’d discovered there were no reservations and no conference under the name he’d been given. Since the ferry had closed down for the night, he’d been forced to take the long way back to Heart’s Grove, which got him into town about the same time Henrietta went to bed.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said with good humor. “I mean it. It really got me thinking.”
“About?” She accepted a sleeve of kettle corn and waited as he paid the vendor.
“I really do want to teach, so why am I waiting for people to ask me? I’ve put out a few applications to different conferences and conventions. I’ll have to wait to see what they say, but I’m hopeful.”
“Ralph, that’s wonderful!”
“Thanks.” He beamed, and they stopped to look at a tent of blown glass. “Now, are you going to ask?” he said when they walked away.
“Ask about what?”
“What I know about the case?”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “You know something?”
“You betcha I do.” He grinned and led her to an empty bench next to a building.
“Well? Tell me!” she said, overly excited.
They sat down, and Ralph made a show of looking around them to make sure they weren’t being overheard. She laughed at his antics but waited patiently.
“I heard from my guy at the station this morning.”
“Don’t make it sound like you went on some covert mission,” she said teasingly. “You had coffee with him and he filled you in.”
“All right, so we had coffee and pancakes, but he told me the outcome of the interviews.”
“And?”
“Turns out that it happened much like you thought.”
She had called Ralph the next morning after sleeping in, only to find that he’d been asleep himself. She’d told him what had happened and he was shocked, assuring her that he would find out what happened when his friends could tell him. She again marveled at how useful it was that he’d once been a detective and still had friends at the station.
“They met online through Preston’s gaming community. I guess they started talking in a secured chat room after it came out that both Vance and Mary had criminal backgrounds.”
“Birds of a feather.”
“Flock together,” he finished. “But, in Preston’s case, it was his need for money.”
She held up a hand. “Money? But his father… His community?”
“Daddy was getting ready to cut him off completely, though he’d already cut off most of his spending money. And his online community was losing steam. Much of his advertising was switching to other online communities. He was actually spending so much time gaming, he forgot about the business side of things.
“Anyway, turns out they began planning this whole thing a year ago. The cameras and everything. Vance even had a way to hack into security cameras of the home so he could see their codes, and then all they needed to do was place a camera inside.”
“It really is brilliant,” Henrietta said, though she hated to admit it.
“It would have been if Mary hadn’t messed up so many times. She had a record with breaking and entering as well as petty crimes, but apparently, she didn’t quite have the work ethic that Vance did.”
“You mean—”
“Yes, she was the one who made the sloppy mistakes, and Vance got tired of it.”
“So it was murder.”
Ralph shrugged. “According to Preston, yes, but he wasn’t there to witness it, so it may be hard without full evidence.”
“So it had to be Preston’s DNA at the crime scene, since both Mary and apparently Vance have records?”
“Yes. They’ve confirmed that with a simple cheek swap from him.”
“They were planning on going to Canada, weren’t they?”
“Initially, yes. I guess Vance had connections there that could then get them out of the country.”
“So sad. You know what first made me suspect Preston?”
“He’s a leech?”
“Ralph,” she said with a forced disapproving look. Her merely shrugged. “No, it was the fact that his father’s house had been robbed. Granted, I knew that the biometric safe would be nearly impossible to get past, but it was the fact that nothing of Preston’s was stolen. There his rooms were, down the hall in his father’s house, and nothing was taken? None of his expensive computer equipment? That was suspicious to me. And then making the connection to the patch only brought things into clarity. It’s odd that the very thing they did to take suspicion off of themselves cast the true blame.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad the criminals weren’t too smart,” Ralph said.
They took in the sights around them—the townspeople and tourists alike walking up and down the streets, laughing and talking. It was the perfect picture of a town in autumn and accented by the scent of cinnamon and sweet apple cider. It was the perfect way to end a confusing case.
“Henri,” Ralph said, looking over at her.
“Yes?”
“Please tell me you’re not going to go out with that Everett fellow out of pity.”
It was the very last thing she’d have expected Ralph to say, and it caused Henrietta to burst out laughing.
“What?” he finally said when she had calmed down enough to take in a breath.
“I wouldn’t do that. You know me better than that.”
He shrugged. “Just had to make sure.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, standing and offering him her hand. “I don’t intend on dating manipulative men nor do I plan on coming across any more mysteries for a long, long time.”
Ralph grinned. “I think you can hold yourself to one of those things.”
Lights Out at the Lighthouse
Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery, Book 3
1
Henrietta Hewitt sat down with a gentle huff of breath. For the slow season, she sure had a lot of work to do. Her gaze trailed around the room, taking in each upset antique or moved treasure. Her shop was almost never in this type of disarray, but today it was unavoidable.
“I think that’s the last of them,” Olivia said, dusting off her hands after she’d hung up the rest of the antique clothing they typically kept in an alcove area near the back of the shop.
“We have more than I thought,” Henrietta said, appraising the two full clothing racks of dresses, suitcoats, furs, and even a few ball gowns.
“Are we using them all?”
“No.” Henrietta picked out an elegant gown in a deep burgundy. “A few are either too valuable or too fragile to be rented out. But the rest should do nicely. I’ll go through and take out what we should keep here, and then you can list them on the website.”
“Sounds like a plan. Until then, I’ll get back to that stack of books we just got in yesterday.”
“Thank you, dear.” Henrietta smiled at her assistant, whose short hair and slightly bohemian style only scratched the surface of her kind and caring nature. Olivia was always ready and willing to help with anything the shop may need, and did so with a cheery smile. She was an asset Henrietta could not think of losing.
She watched Olivia head back to the small room behind the counter, where there was a stack of books waiting to be catalogued and priced. Preparations for the town’s Valentine’s Dance on Valentine’s Day had consumed them both for most of the morning, but they still had normal shop business to attend to.
Henrietta was happy that the city council had voted to make the theme A Very Victorian Valentine’s. It not only gave a fun focus to the night, but it also allowed her shop to be a central figure at the dance. The only problem with that was the work involved.
Not one to shy away from difficult tasks, Henrietta had agreed immediately to decorate the dance hall with items from her shop, as well as a few larger pieces she’d sold to local residents, confident they would be honored to have them featured in such a fun environment. The trick was doing so in a tasteful but safe way for the antiques.
She and Olivia had gone to the dance hall that morning and taken stock of the situation. The promising nature of the space allowed Henrietta to breathe easier, realizing that they would be able to set up intimate settings for some of the higher-priced items that could be roped off from public interaction, but that there were other areas where her replicas could be used for actual seating.
She realized it was a risk, allowing furniture from her shop to be used when food was involved, but she was willing to take it with the hope that the possible business from the night would be worth it—not to mention the historical education she hoped the attendees gained. Then again, perhaps her expectations were too high.
“Oh, Henrietta?” Olivia said, coming back into the main room. “I was wondering…”
When she didn’t continue, Henrietta looked up from the first rack of clothing she was cataloguing. “Yes?”
“Are you…going to the dance?”
Henrietta’s eyebrows rose. “I…I’m not sure. Why?”
“It sounds like a lot of fun. You know, the whole idea of a Victorian-inspired dance. People dressing up. Vintage decorations. The works. It sounds like something I…well, we would like.”
Henrietta smiled at her inclusion of them both. It did sound right up their alley, but she had a feeling that the young woman was asking about more than just their stance as lovers of history.
“I hadn’t really decided. Are you going?”
“Oh, probably not,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Nelson hates dances of all kinds. Says he’d rather break his gaming fingers than go to one. That’s when you know it’s serious.”
Henrietta bristled at this. Nelson Stern, the man Olivia had met online and moved to Hearts Grove for, continued to under-impress her. While she wanted to think the best of him, he simply made choices she didn’t agree with. One being putting himself—and his love of video games—before his care for his girlfriend.
“That’s a shame, my dear.” She considered her next words carefully. “Then again, you don’t need him to come with you to attend.”
“True,” she said, drawing the word out.
Henrietta wondered if she was thinking about the falling-out they’d had only a few months before. Olivia had almost broken up with Nelson but had changed her mind at the last minute, his pleading having an effect on her conscience.
“I may attend,” Henrietta consented, knowing it would help the situation, “and if so, you are welcome to be my date.”
Olivia laughed. “I have a feeling you won’t be needing a date.”
Henrietta opened her mouth to ask what she meant by that, but then the front door opened and the sound of chimes rang through the Victorian house turned shop.
“You ready, Henri?” a gruff voice called out. Ralph Gershwin, head of Gershwin Private Investigators, popped his head around the corner. He insisted on calling her Henri despite her protests, and by now Henrietta had simply given in to it.
“Isn’t that a welcome,” she said, sending a faux disappointed face toward Olivia, who laughed.
“My apologies,” Ralph said, coming into the cramped space. “Hello, Madame. Are you quite ready to attend a luncheon with me?” He affected his best British accent, making both women laugh.
“Quite,” Henrietta replied with a slight bow.
“Smashing! But really,” he dropped the accent, “I’m starved.”
“Of course you are.” Henrietta turned back to Olivia. “I’m just going to leave these racks here. Anyone complains, you tell them it’s for the good of the dance. I’ll be back in an hour or so and will photograph these for you to upload.”
“Sounds perfect. Have a good lunch.” She waved them off as Henrietta picked up her jacket and purse.
“This way, if you will,” Ralph said, accent back in place. He extended his arm with a wily grin.
“Why thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure, indeed.”
Henrietta took a bite of her French dip and closed her eyes to savor the taste. They were at a small diner on the edge of town that Ralph occasionally went to when he had a hankering for clam chowder, as he did today. He dug his rounded soup spoon into the creamy liquid, and she saw the contentment on his handsome features at the first bite.
“Nothing beats this clam chowder. Nothing at all.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She took another bite of her sandwich. It was nice to have something hot on a cold, dreary day.
“You know what, though?” He spooned another bite.
“What’s that?”
“It’s been so slow, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.”
She met his gaze. “I don’t believe that for an instant.”
“Okay, so maybe not completely, but I’m going out of my mind.” He shook his head, his salt-and-pepper hair flopping with the motion. “We’ve had nothing. Absolutely nothing in the last few weeks.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she observed. “I mean, no crime means no business for you, but…no crime.”
“When you put it like that, I sound like a heel,” he admitted. “But still, it’s been so boring.” He drew out the word, and she laughed.
“You sound like a four-year-old, Ralph.”
“I take that back,” he continued, ignoring her slight. “We had a widower ask us to find her keys. Keys, Henri. Like we were some two-bit detective agency.”
“Did you find the keys?”
“Of course, we did,” he said, a smile surfacing. “But it’s the principle of the matter. Things have to pick up soon or…”
“Or what?”
“I don’t know.” Being a retired police detective, Henrietta knew that Ralph was used to having a load of cases going at the same time. He didn’t take well to downtime.
“Something will come up. It always does.”
Her observation only made him scowl into his bowl of chowder.
“You could help me decorate for the dance,” she said with a laugh.
“Decorate? You’ve got the wrong guy.” He held up his hands in protest. “Trust me. You don’t want me anywhere near decorations. For anything.”
“Perhaps you need a hobby then, Mr. Gershwin.”
“Hobby? I have a hobby—it’s called my job as a private investigator. I just need things to investigate, is all.”
“What about stamp collecting?” she mused, pretending not to hear him. “Or maybe you’d prefer to collect coins?”
“Stamps? Coins? I’m not eighty.”
“Plenty of people under the age of eighty collect stamps and coins. I can assure you. I work with them on a regular basis.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“Of course it’ll have to be proved with evidence,” Henrietta said. “But I think there should be some sort of trail left. Right, Scott?”
“So what happened to Mary?” Olivia asked, her forehead pinched in concern.
“Hopefully, we’ll uncover the answer to that from either Preston or Vance.”
The clock on the stove ticked to a quarter to four, and Henrietta stifled a yawn. “I think we should all go home and try to get some sleep.”
“It’s been a long case,” Scott observed. “And a long night.”
“Olivia, do you need a ride home?” Henrietta asked.
“I’ll take her,” Scott offered, his expression hopeful but not overly so.
“Thank you, that would be great.”
They stood and Henrietta walked them to the door. She watched them walk down her back steps and climb into Scott’s car. It was in that moment that she hoped beyond hope that something would come of the two of them. Perhaps it was her intuition or her romantic heart, but she saw what could be not only a wonderful friendship but a beautiful relationship, if they could see it for what it was.
Sighing, she closed the door and locked it. Sepia waited for her, sitting in the middle of the hall with the same smile of satisfaction propping up her whiskers.
“You meddled tonight,” she said to the cat. “And I thank you for it.”
In true cat-fashion, she turned around and padded down the hall without a backward glance.
13
The sounds of live Celtic music wafted in through the open door. With the fire blazing in the hearth, Henrietta didn’t mind the open door. It welcomed customers more fully and allowed in much of the atmosphere from outside.
“Things are going well,” Olivia commented.
“More than,” she agreed. They had done a good business from the time they opened until now. Things were slowly starting to taper off, but that was to be expected. Most people came in waves. She expected to see more in the evening for the lighting event. They strung white lights up all around the town and turned them on at dusk. It would be a truly beautiful sight.
She had made the decision to stay open for that, having Scott string up white lights on the front of the shop as well as the fence lining the street. It would be fun to join in the festivities, and a bit like a fresh beginning for the fall and winter season.
“There you are.”
She looked up to see Ralph framed by the light from outside. His grin spread across his rough features, and she felt her heart squeeze at the sight of him. It was a feeling of familiarity as much as it was a connection to a long-standing friend. Those types of friends were few and far between, and she was thankful—so thankful—in that moment for him.
“Care to stroll through the streets with me?” he asked, offering her a jaunty smile.
She laughed and looked over at Olivia. “Go,” the woman said, “I’ll be fine here.”
“Thank you,” she said, accepting Ralph’s arm.
“Are you disappointed?” she asked when they were outside.
“That the teaching gig was a sham? Yeah, a little.” He sighed, and she wished she could have changed the outcome for him. It was only when he got into Seattle that he’d discovered there were no reservations and no conference under the name he’d been given. Since the ferry had closed down for the night, he’d been forced to take the long way back to Heart’s Grove, which got him into town about the same time Henrietta went to bed.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said with good humor. “I mean it. It really got me thinking.”
“About?” She accepted a sleeve of kettle corn and waited as he paid the vendor.
“I really do want to teach, so why am I waiting for people to ask me? I’ve put out a few applications to different conferences and conventions. I’ll have to wait to see what they say, but I’m hopeful.”
“Ralph, that’s wonderful!”
“Thanks.” He beamed, and they stopped to look at a tent of blown glass. “Now, are you going to ask?” he said when they walked away.
“Ask about what?”
“What I know about the case?”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “You know something?”
“You betcha I do.” He grinned and led her to an empty bench next to a building.
“Well? Tell me!” she said, overly excited.
They sat down, and Ralph made a show of looking around them to make sure they weren’t being overheard. She laughed at his antics but waited patiently.
“I heard from my guy at the station this morning.”
“Don’t make it sound like you went on some covert mission,” she said teasingly. “You had coffee with him and he filled you in.”
“All right, so we had coffee and pancakes, but he told me the outcome of the interviews.”
“And?”
“Turns out that it happened much like you thought.”
She had called Ralph the next morning after sleeping in, only to find that he’d been asleep himself. She’d told him what had happened and he was shocked, assuring her that he would find out what happened when his friends could tell him. She again marveled at how useful it was that he’d once been a detective and still had friends at the station.
“They met online through Preston’s gaming community. I guess they started talking in a secured chat room after it came out that both Vance and Mary had criminal backgrounds.”
“Birds of a feather.”
“Flock together,” he finished. “But, in Preston’s case, it was his need for money.”
She held up a hand. “Money? But his father… His community?”
“Daddy was getting ready to cut him off completely, though he’d already cut off most of his spending money. And his online community was losing steam. Much of his advertising was switching to other online communities. He was actually spending so much time gaming, he forgot about the business side of things.
“Anyway, turns out they began planning this whole thing a year ago. The cameras and everything. Vance even had a way to hack into security cameras of the home so he could see their codes, and then all they needed to do was place a camera inside.”
“It really is brilliant,” Henrietta said, though she hated to admit it.
“It would have been if Mary hadn’t messed up so many times. She had a record with breaking and entering as well as petty crimes, but apparently, she didn’t quite have the work ethic that Vance did.”
“You mean—”
“Yes, she was the one who made the sloppy mistakes, and Vance got tired of it.”
“So it was murder.”
Ralph shrugged. “According to Preston, yes, but he wasn’t there to witness it, so it may be hard without full evidence.”
“So it had to be Preston’s DNA at the crime scene, since both Mary and apparently Vance have records?”
“Yes. They’ve confirmed that with a simple cheek swap from him.”
“They were planning on going to Canada, weren’t they?”
“Initially, yes. I guess Vance had connections there that could then get them out of the country.”
“So sad. You know what first made me suspect Preston?”
“He’s a leech?”
“Ralph,” she said with a forced disapproving look. Her merely shrugged. “No, it was the fact that his father’s house had been robbed. Granted, I knew that the biometric safe would be nearly impossible to get past, but it was the fact that nothing of Preston’s was stolen. There his rooms were, down the hall in his father’s house, and nothing was taken? None of his expensive computer equipment? That was suspicious to me. And then making the connection to the patch only brought things into clarity. It’s odd that the very thing they did to take suspicion off of themselves cast the true blame.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad the criminals weren’t too smart,” Ralph said.
They took in the sights around them—the townspeople and tourists alike walking up and down the streets, laughing and talking. It was the perfect picture of a town in autumn and accented by the scent of cinnamon and sweet apple cider. It was the perfect way to end a confusing case.
“Henri,” Ralph said, looking over at her.
“Yes?”
“Please tell me you’re not going to go out with that Everett fellow out of pity.”
It was the very last thing she’d have expected Ralph to say, and it caused Henrietta to burst out laughing.
“What?” he finally said when she had calmed down enough to take in a breath.
“I wouldn’t do that. You know me better than that.”
He shrugged. “Just had to make sure.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, standing and offering him her hand. “I don’t intend on dating manipulative men nor do I plan on coming across any more mysteries for a long, long time.”
Ralph grinned. “I think you can hold yourself to one of those things.”
Lights Out at the Lighthouse
Hearts Grove Cozy Mystery, Book 3
1
Henrietta Hewitt sat down with a gentle huff of breath. For the slow season, she sure had a lot of work to do. Her gaze trailed around the room, taking in each upset antique or moved treasure. Her shop was almost never in this type of disarray, but today it was unavoidable.
“I think that’s the last of them,” Olivia said, dusting off her hands after she’d hung up the rest of the antique clothing they typically kept in an alcove area near the back of the shop.
“We have more than I thought,” Henrietta said, appraising the two full clothing racks of dresses, suitcoats, furs, and even a few ball gowns.
“Are we using them all?”
“No.” Henrietta picked out an elegant gown in a deep burgundy. “A few are either too valuable or too fragile to be rented out. But the rest should do nicely. I’ll go through and take out what we should keep here, and then you can list them on the website.”
“Sounds like a plan. Until then, I’ll get back to that stack of books we just got in yesterday.”
“Thank you, dear.” Henrietta smiled at her assistant, whose short hair and slightly bohemian style only scratched the surface of her kind and caring nature. Olivia was always ready and willing to help with anything the shop may need, and did so with a cheery smile. She was an asset Henrietta could not think of losing.
She watched Olivia head back to the small room behind the counter, where there was a stack of books waiting to be catalogued and priced. Preparations for the town’s Valentine’s Dance on Valentine’s Day had consumed them both for most of the morning, but they still had normal shop business to attend to.
Henrietta was happy that the city council had voted to make the theme A Very Victorian Valentine’s. It not only gave a fun focus to the night, but it also allowed her shop to be a central figure at the dance. The only problem with that was the work involved.
Not one to shy away from difficult tasks, Henrietta had agreed immediately to decorate the dance hall with items from her shop, as well as a few larger pieces she’d sold to local residents, confident they would be honored to have them featured in such a fun environment. The trick was doing so in a tasteful but safe way for the antiques.
She and Olivia had gone to the dance hall that morning and taken stock of the situation. The promising nature of the space allowed Henrietta to breathe easier, realizing that they would be able to set up intimate settings for some of the higher-priced items that could be roped off from public interaction, but that there were other areas where her replicas could be used for actual seating.
She realized it was a risk, allowing furniture from her shop to be used when food was involved, but she was willing to take it with the hope that the possible business from the night would be worth it—not to mention the historical education she hoped the attendees gained. Then again, perhaps her expectations were too high.
“Oh, Henrietta?” Olivia said, coming back into the main room. “I was wondering…”
When she didn’t continue, Henrietta looked up from the first rack of clothing she was cataloguing. “Yes?”
“Are you…going to the dance?”
Henrietta’s eyebrows rose. “I…I’m not sure. Why?”
“It sounds like a lot of fun. You know, the whole idea of a Victorian-inspired dance. People dressing up. Vintage decorations. The works. It sounds like something I…well, we would like.”
Henrietta smiled at her inclusion of them both. It did sound right up their alley, but she had a feeling that the young woman was asking about more than just their stance as lovers of history.
“I hadn’t really decided. Are you going?”
“Oh, probably not,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Nelson hates dances of all kinds. Says he’d rather break his gaming fingers than go to one. That’s when you know it’s serious.”
Henrietta bristled at this. Nelson Stern, the man Olivia had met online and moved to Hearts Grove for, continued to under-impress her. While she wanted to think the best of him, he simply made choices she didn’t agree with. One being putting himself—and his love of video games—before his care for his girlfriend.
“That’s a shame, my dear.” She considered her next words carefully. “Then again, you don’t need him to come with you to attend.”
“True,” she said, drawing the word out.
Henrietta wondered if she was thinking about the falling-out they’d had only a few months before. Olivia had almost broken up with Nelson but had changed her mind at the last minute, his pleading having an effect on her conscience.
“I may attend,” Henrietta consented, knowing it would help the situation, “and if so, you are welcome to be my date.”
Olivia laughed. “I have a feeling you won’t be needing a date.”
Henrietta opened her mouth to ask what she meant by that, but then the front door opened and the sound of chimes rang through the Victorian house turned shop.
“You ready, Henri?” a gruff voice called out. Ralph Gershwin, head of Gershwin Private Investigators, popped his head around the corner. He insisted on calling her Henri despite her protests, and by now Henrietta had simply given in to it.
“Isn’t that a welcome,” she said, sending a faux disappointed face toward Olivia, who laughed.
“My apologies,” Ralph said, coming into the cramped space. “Hello, Madame. Are you quite ready to attend a luncheon with me?” He affected his best British accent, making both women laugh.
“Quite,” Henrietta replied with a slight bow.
“Smashing! But really,” he dropped the accent, “I’m starved.”
“Of course you are.” Henrietta turned back to Olivia. “I’m just going to leave these racks here. Anyone complains, you tell them it’s for the good of the dance. I’ll be back in an hour or so and will photograph these for you to upload.”
“Sounds perfect. Have a good lunch.” She waved them off as Henrietta picked up her jacket and purse.
“This way, if you will,” Ralph said, accent back in place. He extended his arm with a wily grin.
“Why thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure, indeed.”
Henrietta took a bite of her French dip and closed her eyes to savor the taste. They were at a small diner on the edge of town that Ralph occasionally went to when he had a hankering for clam chowder, as he did today. He dug his rounded soup spoon into the creamy liquid, and she saw the contentment on his handsome features at the first bite.
“Nothing beats this clam chowder. Nothing at all.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She took another bite of her sandwich. It was nice to have something hot on a cold, dreary day.
“You know what, though?” He spooned another bite.
“What’s that?”
“It’s been so slow, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.”
She met his gaze. “I don’t believe that for an instant.”
“Okay, so maybe not completely, but I’m going out of my mind.” He shook his head, his salt-and-pepper hair flopping with the motion. “We’ve had nothing. Absolutely nothing in the last few weeks.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she observed. “I mean, no crime means no business for you, but…no crime.”
“When you put it like that, I sound like a heel,” he admitted. “But still, it’s been so boring.” He drew out the word, and she laughed.
“You sound like a four-year-old, Ralph.”
“I take that back,” he continued, ignoring her slight. “We had a widower ask us to find her keys. Keys, Henri. Like we were some two-bit detective agency.”
“Did you find the keys?”
“Of course, we did,” he said, a smile surfacing. “But it’s the principle of the matter. Things have to pick up soon or…”
“Or what?”
“I don’t know.” Being a retired police detective, Henrietta knew that Ralph was used to having a load of cases going at the same time. He didn’t take well to downtime.
“Something will come up. It always does.”
Her observation only made him scowl into his bowl of chowder.
“You could help me decorate for the dance,” she said with a laugh.
“Decorate? You’ve got the wrong guy.” He held up his hands in protest. “Trust me. You don’t want me anywhere near decorations. For anything.”
“Perhaps you need a hobby then, Mr. Gershwin.”
“Hobby? I have a hobby—it’s called my job as a private investigator. I just need things to investigate, is all.”
“What about stamp collecting?” she mused, pretending not to hear him. “Or maybe you’d prefer to collect coins?”
“Stamps? Coins? I’m not eighty.”
“Plenty of people under the age of eighty collect stamps and coins. I can assure you. I work with them on a regular basis.”
