The Red Rover Society by Allison Osborne

Author:Allison Osborne [Osborne, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-16T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter V

A Trip to the East End

Mrs. Beauchamp’s urgent words through the phone roused Irene a little more, and she attempted to straighten and pay attention.

“What type of crime?” Irene asked, bending to rub her shin where she’d tripped over her trunk. Her elbow also throbbed, but she had no idea what she’d hit it on.

“My statue is missing,” Mrs. Beauchamp cried. “Taken right from under my nose.”

Joe stumbled over to his chair and grabbed his notebook before resuming his position beside Irene. She leaned on him as he wrote down Mrs. Beauchamp’s words.

“And you noticed this at half-past two in the morning?” Irene stifled a yawn.

“Yes,” she said. “I have great trouble falling asleep sometimes, and I enjoy a late-night cigarette and tea. And when I went to my shelf, she was gone.”

“Who?”

“The statue, Miss Holmes! The dancing woman.” Mrs. Beauchamp’s voice pierced through the receiver again, and Irene held the telephone away from her ear. She tried hard in her sleepy state to recall a statue of a dancing woman, but she could remember no such piece of art on any shelf in the Beauchamp residence. “I don’t think you had a dancing woman on your shelves when we were there.”

“Of course I did,” she snapped. “And now she is gone!”

“Mrs. Beauchamp, your voice is simply too shrill for this time in the morning,” Irene complained. “Doctor Watson and I will come over at ten o’clock and investigate it more. For now, be sure your doors are locked and do get some sleep.”

“Oh, alright.” She sounded like she didn’t want to hang up the phone, but she muttered a ‘good-bye’ and the line went dead.

Irene hung up the receiver and rubbed her eyes before pushing some fallen hair from her face. She’d attempted to keep the curls that Jeannie worked so hard on in her hair by pinning them back up before she went to bed, but it didn’t appear to be working as half of them were falling off her head and hanging around her shoulders.

“You remember a dancing woman?” she asked Joe.

“Nope,” he mumbled through a yawn.

“Me neither,” she said before spotting the overturned chair, open trunk, and books, finally figuring out where her sore elbow had come from. “Did I make that mess?”

“I believe so,” Joe chuckled before stepping forward to presumably fix the chair.

“It can wait until the morning. Let’s go back to bed.” She headed to her bedroom. “Good night, Joe.”

He cast her one last sleepy look. “Night, Irene.”

She pushed the trunk into the living room and out of the way, shutting the bedroom door. Irene was just about to flop onto her bed when she heard shuffling furniture from the kitchenette. Opening her door a half-inch, she peered through the crack. Joe righted the dining chair, then scooped the clothes into the trunk. He shut the lid and winced as the metal buckles clacked.

A smile fell over Irene’s lips as she quietly closed the bedroom door. Before she could overthink about Joe and how decent and wonderful he was, she’d tucked into bed and fallen asleep.

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