Spirits Adopted (A Daisy Gumm Majesty Mystery, Book 20) by Alice Duncan

Author:Alice Duncan [Duncan, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781644577271
Publisher: ePublishing Works!

NINETEEN

When we arrived at Harold’s home in San Marino, two other automobiles already sat at the curb in front of his house. One was a shiny red Marmon Wasp, and the other was…

Oh heck.

“Brace yourself,” I told Mr. Prophet as I opened my door.

He’d opened his door, but he turned to frown at me. “Fer what?”

“I think that Chevrolet Roadster belongs to Dr. Vialargo, the man who is possibly your son.”

I heard him whisper an awful word that began with S-H and ended in T.

“Well golly,” I said. “You wanted to know about him. This might be a great opportunity.”

Again he whispered the bad word.

“And don’t use that kind of language around Hazel, the doctor, or the baby,” I scolded.

He said it again.

I shook my head in despair and exited the Chevrolet. He did likewise on the passenger side of the car, only without the head shake. For some reason beyond my comprehension, he seemed angry. As if he had anything to gripe about!

The front door of Harold’s house opened with a flourish, and we saw Harold standing in the door frame looking haggard. Poor Harold. He was such a good man; he didn’t deserve the problem deposited on his doorstep.

“It’s about time!” He said as Mr. Prophet and I traversed the walkway to his home.

“I told you we had to visit the library and the bookstore,” I snapped. “So just hush up.”

“Bother,” said Harold. He stepped back so Mr. Prophet and I could enter his grand home. “I’m sorry. It’s just so nerve-wracking to have a baby in the house. She cries all the time, and it scares me. Hazel is a gem, but my God, how do people stand babies?”

“I imagine most people with babies have had considerably more time to prepare for them than you did,” I said.

“They couldn’t have much less,” muttered Harold. “Morning, Lou,” he said to Mr. Prophet.

“Mornin’,” said Mr. Prophet.

“Is that Dr. Vialargo’s machine out there?” I asked Harold. Then I shot a look at Mr. Prophet, who had resumed frowning.

“Yes,” said Harold. “He’s upstairs examining the infant.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Should I give the thing a name? I hate just calling it ‘the baby’.”

“Why don’t you allow her adoptive parents to give her a name?” I suggested gently. “Which is something I want to discuss with you.”

“You want to talk about baby names? The one upstairs is a girl and yours is a boy. Or will be a boy.”

“Yes, Harold, I know that. It’s not, however, baby names I want to discuss with you. I saw George and Marianne Grenville at the bookstore this morning.”

“I already know you went to the bookstore,” barked Harold. More politely, he asked, “Did you pick up a pink copy of The Book of Baby Mine.”

“No, but⁠—”

“Dammit, Daisy! I can’t go into bookstores and buy baby books!”

“I don’t know why you can’t,” I said. “But there’s a good⁠—”

“I’m not about to slip up and let anyone know I’ve taken in a stray baby!” Harold now looked not merely haggard but seriously annoyed.

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