Deadly Gamble: An Abigail Dutcher Mystery Book 1 by Pamela Welsh

Author:Pamela Welsh [Welsh, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

“My life is ruined!”

Edith Cummings, the St. James Gazette’s voluptuous receptionist, tossed her ever present compact on top of the desk, sending Abigail’s notes scattering in every direction.

“No,” Abigail whined, scrambling to retrieve her notes before they were trampled by passersby.

The lovely blonde, however, didn’t seem to notice the chaos she’d caused as she sank into the chair next to Abigail’s desk and buried her face in her hands. She began to sob.

Abigail ignored her friend’s over-dramatic hysterics as she tidied the sheets on her desk. She seriously considered telling Edith to go away for an hour or two until she finished writing her article. After all, Abigail did have a ten o’clock deadline that she would never make if people didn’t leave her alone.

She cast her friend a sidelong glance, trying to determine what reaction Edith was likely to have, then sighed in defeat. Edith went through men faster than water flowing under a bridge, always leaving broken hearts in her wake. To Abigail’s knowledge, Edith had never been affected by the ending of one of those relationships, which meant this one had meant something to her. It would be cruel to send her away.

Abigail could have screamed in frustration. Instead, she drew in a deep, steadying breath and sat back in her chair. “What happened, Edith?”

“Johnny left me!”

Abigail tried to remember meeting anyone named Johnny. “How long have you been seeing this Johnny?”

“Three weeks.” Edith sobbed, her tears smudging the kohl around her eyes. Abigail didn’t say a word and soon her friend continued. “The man he works for said I can’t be trusted and he’d let Johnny go without a reference if he didn’t call it off. So he called it off. I’m trustworthy, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are,” Abigail said and patted Edith’s hand soothingly. “Why would Johnny’s employer think you are not?”

Edith looked at Abigail like she was daft. “Because I work here. Mr. Walker says no one working at a newspaper can be trusted.”

Before Abigail could respond to that, their employer, George Markham, ran over. A short, wiry man of middling years, he never seemed to walk. He always dashed from place to place. He set a gold embossed envelope on top of Abigail’s desk then stepped back expectantly.

“What is this?” Abigail asked, lifting the envelope gingerly and turning it over in her hands, suspecting she already knew. She withdrew the ornate invitation bearing the coat of arms for the Earl of Braybrook. It invited the bearer to an event being held that evening at his London address.

George had to have noticed Abigail’s distaste because he hurried on, “It’s a dinner party and fund raiser. As you are aware, I am not very welcome these days to these things, and well… this is what I hired you for in the first place, so I need you to attend to represent the gazette’s interests this evening.”

“I don’t think so,” Abigail told him, wrinkling her nose as she dropped the envelope into the trash.

Horrified, George gasped and quickly bent to retrieve it.

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