Show of Evil: A Smith Investigates Mystery by Beth Byers

Author:Beth Byers [Byers, Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

“Smith is a know-it-all,” Vi told me as he left us behind at a teashop and declared he’d be back with an auto and without a uniform. “You should kick him while he’s sleeping.”

“I know,” I muttered, leaning back. A sweet little woman with white curls and thick shoes came over to our table. I might have ordered cake and scones and biscuits and tea sandwiches while Vi looked on in awe.

Rather than explaining myself I also asked for a bag to bring things along as well. Before Smith returned, however, I had downed the cake and two scones and then leaned back with my hand over my stomach. This time, however, it was because my stomach was screaming at me and not because my mind was on the growing baby.

Smith appeared within the hour in a sharp pin-striped suit with an auto that shone in the light.

“How does he do it?”

I shook my head. There wasn’t an answer. Did he know someone? Was he prepared in advance somehow? Did he just know how to manipulate people? Maybe he’d stolen the auto? Honestly, I thought, all of the options were something I would believe.

I sighed and rose, helping the sweet woman who had delivered our food to pack it up, so we could take it on the road, and then stared in surprise when Smith entered the shop and had two thermoses filled, one with coffee and the second with chamomile and mint tea.

He handed me the tea thermos and I breathed in the scent deeply, the smell of mint soothing me along with the thoughtfulness.

“Just because you’re sometimes sweet doesn’t mean I’m not keeping an eye on you.”

Smith snorted, humor crossing his face. As we approached the auto, he snaked a hand around my waist and tugged me close, kissing me on the forehead. “I like it when you keep an eye on me.”

Vi groaned.

Smith navigated through whatever little town they were in. I took the seat in the back to be able to lay across the bench. It was then that I noticed Smith’s bag. I glanced at him and back at the bag. I should, of course, leave his privacy to him.

Smith would expect nothing less than me digging into the bag. I did so and found a stack of letters tied with a ribbon. I untied the ribbon, letting the once pink and now yellowed ribbon run through my fingers.

The letters smelled of aged perfume and I leaned down to sniff them. I hated that they smelled appealing. I could see how a letter like this one, with the scent of your loved one, would be not just welcome, but desired.

I wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten them returned to her, but I began unfolding them, allowing myself to only focus on the date and place them in order of the dates they were written. Lola had beautiful flowing, feminine script. Mine was much more masculine and business like. If I wrote love letters, they’d look nothing like this.

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