Lock the Cellar Door by Molly Greene

Author:Molly Greene [Greene, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Women's Fiction, Contemporary Women, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Supernatural, Women Sleuths, Contemporary Fiction, Detective
Amazon: B00YLNSKTA
Publisher: Molly. R. Greene
Published: 2015-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

While Boyle drove, Gen relayed what Stephanie had said and was glad he had the wisdom not to make a crack about spooks pursuing spooks, or some other ridiculous crap.

She wasn’t in the mood.

He dropped her at the curb outside her office. She considered inviting him in to discuss what they’d learned, but changed her mind. The poltergeist thing was a dead end. She just thanked him and let it go.

Entering the little French-inspired office was always a relief of sorts, a refuge from the world. A place she could think. Truth be told, she’d missed it, spending so much time in Oakland.

But being here was bittersweet.

The sweet part was walking the short hall and seeing her desk, floating there in the corner, facing the door, bracketed by the big, dark bookshelves behind it. Sweet was the hardbacks that filled them, every title a classic detective mystery.

Sweet was the case board hidden behind the picture of the Eiffel Tower. Sweeter still was the framed photograph of her and Mack at the Palace of Fine Arts, where they’d gone on their first real date.

Her attitude was the bitter part, that and the sour taste left in her mouth by some stupid college kid whining about ghosts. Her stomach churned over the possibility Mack had been hurt because of a prank or a misguided whim.

She didn’t believe Stephanie Ferguson’s story, and it left her feeling hustled. Why would she fabricate such a stunt? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made any sense.

She dropped her bag on the file cabinets beside the door, walked around the desk, and sat. She studied the space from this angle for five beats, then stood and got a water from the mini-fridge. This time she took the bottle to the couch and scanned the room again.

Everything looked the same, but something felt different. Gen knew exactly what the trouble was.

Mack wouldn’t be calling. He might not ever again drop by as a surprise and take her to lunch. As Gen willingly followed that thought, her mood spiraled downhill with it. Then the land line phone rang, interrupting her negative trance. She warned herself to knock off the pity party and returned to the desk.

“Delacourt Investigations.”

“Hi there, Miss Delacourt, this is Rita calling.”

Her answering service.

“Hey. Sorry I haven’t checked in much lately.”

Gen wasn’t keen to share the events of the past two weeks. What good would it do? But Rita was notorious for her ability to read what was happening in other people’s lives just by the tone of their voice, and her skill kicked in.

“Something wrong?”

Gen sighed. So much for keeping bad news private. “Mack was hurt. He has a head injury. He’s awake and walking and talking, but he’s not himself.”

“Gosh, Miss Delacourt, I am so, so sorry to hear that.” Rita’s sharp intake of breath said it all. “That man, he’s special. I’ll say a prayer for you both.”

“I appreciate it, and I will, too. Have you got a message for me?”

“I have a few.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.