A Touch Of Crazy: A Seaview Manor Romantic Murder Mystery by Gudrun Frerichs

Author:Gudrun Frerichs [Frerichs, Gudrun]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Patrick folded the newspaper away and opened the car door for us. “Hello, ladies; how was your day so far? Did you enjoy your trip to Auckland?”

Olivia gave him a sweet smile. “We had a wonderful time. Thanks for asking, Mr. Smith. And how did you spend the day?”

“I had a list of errands for the Manor and bought special plants for the ornamental bed at the gazebo.” He looked at me as if he were trying to read my mind. “I hope you didn’t get into trouble. We should be on our way home.”

I was sure I blushed again. “Trouble? Why would we get into trouble?”

He started the car, bobbling his head and grinning. “I feel better when I have my eyes on you.”

Olivia chuckled. “Gosh, you two. Why don’t you get a room?”

I almost punched her. I was eternally grateful that she helped me today, but at this moment, I was ready to strangle her. “I beg your pardon?”

Patrick laughed as he turned onto the motorway. “A room? Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that? People our age should not drive long distances late in the afternoon.”

I sat back, trying to disappear into the seat. “In your dream.”

Patrick took a bow, which looked silly sitting behind the wheel and said with an over-the-top swooning voice, “Another time then. I can wait.”

They all watched him and snickered. Olivia said, “He’s not bad looking and seems to like you. I don’t know what your objection is.”

Harper chimed in, “Olivia is right, you know.”

He laughed and said, “Ladies, I’m sitting right here. I can hear you.”

This was going way too far, and my gratefulness for them coming with me today quickly evaporated. “It’s time to stop this silliness and find another subject to discuss.”

Olivia had mercy on me, and we talked about everything but Patrick and me for the rest of the journey home. Not that there was a Patrick and me.

Back at the Manor, we were greeted by Madison. She could hardly wait until we changed out of our travel clothes and met her in the library. She pulled a chair out for me and said, “You guys have to tell me all about the trip. What happened? What did you find out?”

I told her about the correspondence, the bank accounts, and the three gold bars we found hidden in Harold’s priest hole.

It took a moment for her to recover from the surprise. “I can’t believe your husband built a secret closet. He must have known that what he was doing wasn’t kosher. It was a bit cheeky to tell you that it was a leftover from his fascination with the English War of the Roses.”

“I know. You have no idea how shocked I was to find all that stuff hidden there. That man had me right where he wanted me. Naïve and gullible, buying his stories without hesitation. In the meantime, he schemed behind my back. For ten years. He tricked me for ten years.” I shook my head.

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