Ready On Set Drama (Booker Brothers Detective Agency Book 3) by Maisie Dean

Author:Maisie Dean [Dean, Maisie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The following day, Nate did not have to be on set until later in the afternoon, which meant neither did I. To fill up the morning and get caught up on paperwork, I headed into the office for the first time that week. It had only been a few days, but it felt like much more time had passed as I climbed the stairs to the second story where the Booker Brothers Detective Agency was located.

We shared the front door entrance with the diner downstairs. The restaurant was run by an unusual but amusing man named Doyle. The stairs to our office rose up off to one side of the small foyer between two sets of old glass double doors. That morning, the pleasant smell of fresh blueberry oat-bran muffins greeted me in the small space. I’d have to remember to grab one on the way out.

When I reached the office door and pushed my way through, I heard the familiar, far from musical, tinkle of the little bell overhead announce my presence.

Judging by the smell of coffee emanating from the break room, as well as the unlocked door, I gathered that Tippy was already in.

Tippy Booker was the boys’ grandmother. She had class and style galore and a penchant for overseeing every little detail of the Booker Brothers’ business. Which is why, despite her having retired some time ago, she was first to make it into the office most days.

The office was small, as offices go, but there was enough room for five desks plus a meeting room against the back wall. My desk was on the left side of the room, just past Owen’s, which had an average of three separate computers sitting on it on any given day. Directly across the room, and facing us, was Lucky’s messy desk. And at the back beside the partition wall for the meeting room was Harrison’s. It was central and usually tidy. I had never officially been told it was the case, but of the three brothers, Harrison was in charge at the detective agency. The fifth desk sat right near the door to the office. It was meant to be a reception desk, but the budget always seemed to be too tight to splurge on hiring a receptionist. Tippy occasionally used the front desk to sit down with her coffee and thumb through the finances when Harrison was out and forgotten to hide them away. Most of the time, however, Tipp preferred to stand, pace, or hover.

“Good morning, Tippy!” I called out. I strode across the worn-down carpeted floors to my desk and tossed my purse and jacket onto my chair.

“Coffee?” Tippy called back in reply.

“Yes, please.”

Moments later, the Booker brothers’ impossibly young-looking grandmother glided down the short hallway. She wore a matching pale blue dress suit, a white satin blouse, and white pumps. Always pumps. Her blonde hair didn’t move an inch as she waltzed toward me and handed me a steaming mug. The hefty porcelain mug

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