Read Online Amy Patricia Meade - Marjorie McClelland 02 - Ghost of a Chance by Amy Patricia Meade - Free Book Online Page B

how did Nussbaum get to the fair? He lives in Hartford-that’s more than just a good stretch of the legs.”
    “I have Noonan checking on that right now. We found a driver’s license in Nussbaum’s wallet but, according to Josie, he didn’t
own a car.
    “You think Josie can be trusted to tell the truth?”
    “Maybe not, but we didn’t find any abandoned cars this morning. So, for now, we have to assume that Nussbaum arrived by either
bus, train, or cab. Noonan’s showing Nussbaum’s photo around.
Maybe someone will recognize him.” There was a long silence before
he spoke again. “Creighton, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about
something”
    The Englishman knew what was coming, but he feigned nonchalance. “What is it?”
    “It’s about Marjorie,” the detective started. “Listen, I know how
you feel about her.”

    Creighton opened his mouth to object, but Jameson cut him
short. “Don’t bother trying to deny it, Ashcroft. We’re way beyond
that now.”
    He nodded solemnly. “All right. What’s your point?”
    “My point is that sometimes I think you doubt my feelings for
Marjorie are real. Well, I’m telling you now that they are real. I love
Marjorie and I’d do anything to make her happy. Even so, there are
going to be times when she and I don’t see eye to eye on things.”
His gaze slid to the man seated beside him. “I’d appreciate it if, during those times, you wouldn’t interfere.”
    Creighton took a deep breath and focused on a spot on the
windshield. He had been awake the whole night before deliberating
his next move. Now it was time to follow through with his decision. “I understand,” he stated placidly. “I haven’t been very sporting toward you during the last three months, Jameson, and I’d like
to apologize, particularly for yesterday. I brought Marjorie to Dr.
Heller’s lab with the sole intention of causing problems between the
two of you. It was wrong of me, I know. However, I was under the
illusion that I still had time to change her mind, to make her love
me. But she doesn’t love me, Jameson. She never will. You’re the
man she loves. You won her over, old boy, fair and square. It’s you
she’s going to marry. It’s you who makes her happy.” He frowned as
he realized the gravity of his next statement. “And I, like you, want
her to be happy. That’s why I’m bowing out gracefully.”
    Jameson slowed the car down to a crawl. Apparently, he hadn’t
anticipated his speech succeeding so easily. “Huh?”
    “You heard me, Jameson. From here on out, I will no longer be
a thorn in your side. No more hanging around Marjorie’s house, no more invitations to Kensington for afternoon tea, no more horning
in on your dates. I’ll even surrender my role as Marjorie’s editor. Of
course, I don’t plan on selling Kensington House, at least, not right
now. That being the case, I shall still see Marjorie from time to time,
and I shall always consider her a friend, but you can trust me not to
do anything to compromise your marriage.”

    Jameson, stupefied, shook his head. “I don’t know what to say,
except thank you.”
    “Don’t thank me;” Creighton dismissed. “This is as much for my
sake as it is for yours. I’m getting out while my pride is still reasonably intact. Call it cutting my losses.”
    “Just the same, thanks.”
    The Englishman stared into his mirror again; the dilapidated
automobile was close behind them. He leaned closer to the reflection and tried to ascertain who was behind the wheel of the old
clunker. All he could discern was a hat, a pair of driving goggles,
and a thin, gauzy scarf, blowing in the wind. His jaw dropped. That
was no scarf. That was hair. A wisp of wavy blonde hair.
    Creighton closed his eyes to dispel the picture from his sight.
When he opened them, Jameson had accelerated, leaving the Model
T at a considerable distance abaft. It was just my imagination, he
concluded. A bad case