An Agent For Serafina (Pinkerton Matchmaker 59) by Lynn Donovan

Author:Lynn Donovan [Lynn Donovan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Smith yawned and stretched as he walked to the divan in their hotel suite. “Oh my, I’m so tired, how about you?”

Fina glared at him. “I suppose.”

“Well, you take the big bed and I’ll make do out here on the divan.”

“You seem to be— what are you up to?”

“Nothing!” He chuckled. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and I just thought we should get as much rest as possible before we begin our case-solving tomorrow.”

Fina crossed her arms over her waist and tapped her toe. “Why are you acting like you’ve got some… other plans?”

“Other plans? P-shaw! Let’s go to bed. I’ve asked room service to deliver coffee and sweet muffins before daybreak. That’ll be our wake-up.”

She eyed him for a long while. “Alright. But I want to leave the door to the bedchamber open.”

“Fine. Sure. Whatever makes you feel safe—”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her. “I just mean whatever you want.”

She sighed heavily and pursed her lips. “Fine!”

Smith watched her enter the chambers and removed his dinner jacket and shoes. Pulling an extra blanket from the cabinet, he quickly stretched out on the divan and waited.

And waited.

Serafina seemed restless behind that partially closed door. Smith remained as still as he could to convey he had fallen asleep. Finally, she settled down. Smith listened for signs that she was deep asleep, and then he waited a little bit longer. The last thing he wanted was to wake her and have to explain where he was going.

At last he rose silently and put on his shoes and jacket. Tip-toeing, he slipped out the door and down the servants’ stairs. The wet cobblestone streets glistened in the moonlight. A brief evening rain had passed quickly but left behind a sultry, sticky feeling in the air. He lifted his nose and inhaled the city’s aromas. He knew how to find what he was looking for.

Walking with purpose toward the waterfront, he sought a drinking establishment. The closer he got to the Mississippi River docking district, the louder the night sounds became. Men, lewd women, laughter, and piano playing filled the boardwalks. Led by his gut instincts, Smith stood flat-footed and peered over the batwing doors of one saloon. This establishment would have his answers. He entered and ordered a whiskey at the bar.

“Sure thing, friend.” The bartender tossed a white towel over his broad shoulder and turned to retrieve a clean glass. The man obviously filled two roles: Bartender and bouncer. Plopping the glass in front of Smith, the bartender leaned on the counter as he poured from a bottle with a black label.

“Is this from a local distillery?” Smith asked before he tossed the dark amber liquid down his throat. It burned all the way down, but he did his best not to show any discomfort.

“You bet, friend. This is Saint Louie, we got some of the finest whiskey distillers in the country.”

Smith nodded, thoughtful of the bartender’s words.

“So I hear.

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