Augusta Hawke by G.M. Malliet

Author:G.M. Malliet [Malliet, G.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2022-03-08T23:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

Shortly after that I headed for home, taking off my wig, makeup, heels, and – when the driver was preoccupied with a tricky left turn – the push-up pads in my bra in the backseat of the Uber. I shoved everything into my big carry tote and extracted my Superga sneakers.

This time I was piloted by a silent young man who greeted me by saying his radio was broken and did I mind. Not only did I not mind, I decided on the spot to give him a bigger tip. Silence really is golden when you’re being subjected to someone else’s idea of music.

From the Uber, I texted Kent:

You were right about M.

No reply, so I tried his voicemail. The ‘leave-a-message’ message was classic Kent, managing to convey his importance and busyness in brusque, Philip Marlowe-esque tones: ‘You’ve reached the voicemail for Kent Haworth. I’m working on another case but leave a message and I’ll get back.’

Then I texted Misaki:

Babysitter news?

She texted back straightaway.

Still on it.

As I was putting the phone away it rang, the screen announcing an unknown caller. I normally ignore this kind of thing because, in this politically highly charged area, especially, it’s always someone calling on behalf of someone running for office. Someone whom I have blocked repeatedly to no avail and whom I have asked never to text, email, or phone me again. Someone who always, always wins at the polls, despite my determination to oust him.

It might’ve been a good idea not to answer the phone in this case, but I wasn’t doing anything except sitting in the back of a luxuriously silent Uber cab and staring out the window. And besides, as things turned out, I would merely have been delaying the inevitable.

To my surprise, Detective Narduzzi of the Old Town Police was on the line.

Well, this is awkward, I thought. I probably should tell him about Mindy Goodacre but a) I don’t want to and b) I know he’ll ask how come I know so much.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Are you at home?’

‘I’m in an Uber headed home. Why?’

‘I have something I want you to look at for me.’

‘Me? Really?’

‘Well, yes, I thought you might be right there, at home. Most of your neighbors are still at work or I’d ask them.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I said, slightly disappointed he wasn’t calling me because of my evidently keen investigative intelligence. ‘I do work at home. It may not look like work since I don’t use a concrete mixer or anything, but it’s really work.’

Aware he’d hit a sore spot, he said, ‘I think you could be invaluable to us because you are clearly a detail person. I’m reading one of your books now.’

I don’t know what I expected him to say but it certainly wasn’t that. Little did he know he had uttered the magic words for any writer. Actually, the even more magical words were, ‘I can’t put it down.’

I had to ask. ‘Which book are you reading?’

‘The one where Caroline keeps running into the guy who runs the boulangerie.

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