Roses for Regret by Audrey Stallsmith

Author:Audrey Stallsmith [Stallsmith, Audrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-78359-2
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

“I want to speak to Mr. Falco,” the squeaky voice on the phone said the next morning.

“I’m sorry,” Day answered automatically, “but Mr. Falco isn’t accepting calls now. May I take a message?”

“No, you may not take a message. You may go and bring Mr. Falco to the phone at once.”

Unable even to determine whether the voice was male or female, Day said, “May I ask who is calling, please?”

“You can ask but you won’t get an answer,” the voice said. “Who am I speaking to?”

“This is Damia Day.”

“What are you doing there?”

“Well, there seems to be a divergence of opinion about that,” Day said cheerfully. “Some will have it that I am a coldblooded killer while some hold to the kept-woman theory. The rest don’t really know but abuse me simply on the basis that everybody else is doing it; there can’t be smoke without fire and similar mindless clichés. May I ask which of these charming factions you adhere to?”

Since her recent notoriety, she had received several anonymous calls and had learned that unfazed matter-of-factness tended to take the wind out of the callers’ sails. All of those calls had been to her own number, though, not to Bram’s. And she couldn’t stop answering her phone when the call might be about a wounded animal.

When this caller didn’t respond, she said, “Come now, this sort of thing is really much more effective after dark, you know. I am in danger of becoming bored.”

“Go ahead. Laugh,” the squeak said. “Stick with Falco, and you won’t be laughing long.”

The receiver clicked, and the dial tone buzzed in her ear.

She hadn’t noticed Bram’s presence until he spoke. “What was that all about?”

Turning, she saw him standing in the doorway of his study. “Just another anonymous call. Pretty mild compared to some I’ve received.”

“Another anonymous call? Have you been getting a lot of them? About what?”

“Mostly,” she said dryly, “about what you and I are perceived to be doing together. When people don’t understand something, they seem to delight in putting the worst interpretation on it. Usually they call at night—and to my home number.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized people would put that particular interpretation on my employing you.”

She stared at him. “Okay,” she said finally, shrugging. “I’ll buy it. You may call me a murderess yourself, but nobody else is allowed to malign my reputation.”

An answering smile pulled down the corner of his mouth. “These calls don’t seem to bother you.”

“I have bigger things to worry about than guys who hide behind phone lines. They’re the voyeurs of this world, not the doers.”

“That’s what I thought too,” he said.

He turned back into the study before she could question his choice of tense. Thought? Was he implying that he had had anonymous calls too? Of course, a politician would probably be a target for all the angry extremists. But if he had received threats of any sort, why hadn’t he mentioned them to the police?

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