The Amanda Pepper Mysteries, Bundle #1 by Gillian Roberts

Author:Gillian Roberts [Roberts, Gillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads Publishing
Published: 2015-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Ten

NEXT MORNING, WE SAID AMAZINGLY amicable farewells, all things considered, including how early it was. Mackenzie was going to leave immediately after his shift, so there was no other time.

“You’ll be back the first?” he asked at the door.

I nodded.

“New Year’s Eve in Florida,” he said. “Your last night in the tropics. Moon over Miami or wherever. Be careful.”

I envisioned the condominium complex’s social room, a drink with a fluorescent pink umbrella sticking out of it, the stuttering podiatrist and me wearing fool hats and blowing noisemakers, reassuring Beatrice Pepper and friends that we were having fun.

“I thought to come back earlier,” Mackenzie said, “but standby’s good as I could get, so I didn’t bother you to hurry home. Amazin’ how many people are rushing to and from New Orleans.”

It was something. More than he’d been willing to say until now.

“So we’ll celebrate the New Year on New Year’s Night instead of its Eve.” He kissed me. “You’re not hung up on dates that way, are you?” He kissed me again. “Course not.”

He didn’t notice that this was not a two-way conversation. Yes, I should have said, owning up to yet another neurosis.

Yes, yes. I believe that certain dates are heavy with meaning and magical portents and New Year’s Eve is the biggie. The feel of midnight is the feel of the year, according to my irrational but powerful mental set. Which meant I could anticipate an interminably long, romantically dismal twelve months ahead, thanks or no thanks to Mackenzie.

“Certainly would prefer spending the time with you, ’stead of my cousins and all. ’Course with you wanting to see your folks, I didn’t want to push on you.” He shrugged. Until this moment, neither of us, obviously, had even once said what we really wanted of these holidays. It hadn’t been allowed in the rules of our game, so we were both losing. High time to change the game. My first New Year’s resolution.

“See you in six days. I’ll bring champagne.” Moments later, he was gone.

“Fine,” I said to myself, tidying the room at long last. “Fine. Fahn!” I had things to do, sun block to buy, people to see. Maybe Minna White would actually have something interesting to say about why she was not sad about Alexander Clausen’s death. If, indeed, she was not. My mother had a habit of holding old acquaintances in suspended animation, treating whatever whim they entertained when last seen as a lifelong obsession. The likelihood was that Minna had forgotten whatever it was, or outgrown it, or outlived it while my mother clung to the memory.

I felt abruptly depressed about how efficiently I had messed up my Christmas vacation. I dialed Sasha. She had changed her message, but I knew she could do that by remote. “Sasha Berg, Photographer. Sorry,” her recorded voice said, “but I’m on assignment and can’t come to the phone right now. If you’ll leave your…” She sounded on the verge of hysterical laughter and not one bit contrite at missing her callers.

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