Read Online Haunted Guest House Mystery 03-Old Haunts by E. J. Copperman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: E. J. Copperman
Tags: Supernatural Mysteries
Ads: Link
progress report. And dinner.
Seven
“Who’s this guy Luther, and why is he coming to dinner?” Steven wanted to know. “I thought we could make it just us and Melissa.”
“It’s touching that you’re jealous, Steven, but Luther is a client, and he’s coming by for a progress report on the case I’m investigating for him.” I had decided that since there would be company for dinner, it was a poor choice for me to cook, so I was searching through the take-out menus I keep in a kitchen drawer, hoping to be inspired to make the appropriate phone call.
“A client.” The Swine rolled his eyes. “And how is it you became a…what? A private eye? And never told me?”
“Our divorce settlement doesn’t require my telling you when I start a new business,” I told him. “No more than you had to tell me when you got dumped by the dye job.”
“I didn’t get…” He looked exasperated. “That’s not what we’re talking about. But a private investigator? You ?”
“Me. You want to see the license again?”
“It just doesn’t make sense.” That had been the point he’d been making for fifteen minutes now.
“A lot of things don’t make sense. For example, you believing that everything on your girlfriend is the original equipment doesn’t make sense. But the bottom line is: I have the license, I need the money, and I take on clients. Luther is one of them.” I left out the part about him being my first flesh-and-blood client.
After leaving McElone’s office, I had spent a little while searching through the phone book (it’s a big paper thing, children, that has the names and phone numbers of all the people who live in your town) for Julia MacKenzie, the apparent love of Paul’s life, who had been living in the area when Paul and Maxie died. She was not listed, and a call to Information (it’s this number you can call to…Never mind) showed no phone number, listed or not, under that name. Yeah, I’m old school.
Twenty years ago, that might have been definitive proof that Julia had left the area, but in an age when people give up their landlines entirely for cell-phone service, it meant a grand total of nothing. And since she could have been listed with any of at least twelve possible service providers in New Jersey, my PI license was going to get me bubkes in tracking down Julia’s phone number.
I would have to ask Paul more about his almost-fiancée, which, given his emotional outburst the last time we’d discussed it, was not an exciting prospect.
“Fine,” my ex answered, “you go ahead and pretend you’re Nancy Drew, but we haven’t yet sat down as a family for a meal since I’ve been back.”
“That’s because we’re not a family anymore,” I reminded him. “We’re a single mom and her daughter, and you’re the guy who left. We’ve spent a long time and done a lot of hard work to accept that. You don’t get to change it because the dye job you were dating decided to trade you in for a newer model.” I didn’t know that was what had happened, but payback, despite the common expression, can be quite enjoyable.
“Amee does not dye her hair,” The Swine said. Was that the best he could do? “But I realize you’re still sore about my leaving. That’s my fault, and I get that. I could apologize from now until the end of time, and it wouldn’t change anything. All I want is for you to accept that I really am sorry, and whether or not that makes a difference to you, it’s the truth.” Okay, so that hadn’t been the best he could do.
I rejected the usual pizza place and the Chinese takeout because we always use those, and Melissa wasn’t a big fan of Chinese, although that started to change when she discovered the power of the lo mein noodle. Was I actually looking for something special because Luther was coming for dinner? I’d have to stop and think about that at some point. I probably should have asked him what kind of food he liked, too. Well, he hadn’t
Seven
“Who’s this guy Luther, and why is he coming to dinner?” Steven wanted to know. “I thought we could make it just us and Melissa.”
“It’s touching that you’re jealous, Steven, but Luther is a client, and he’s coming by for a progress report on the case I’m investigating for him.” I had decided that since there would be company for dinner, it was a poor choice for me to cook, so I was searching through the take-out menus I keep in a kitchen drawer, hoping to be inspired to make the appropriate phone call.
“A client.” The Swine rolled his eyes. “And how is it you became a…what? A private eye? And never told me?”
“Our divorce settlement doesn’t require my telling you when I start a new business,” I told him. “No more than you had to tell me when you got dumped by the dye job.”
“I didn’t get…” He looked exasperated. “That’s not what we’re talking about. But a private investigator? You ?”
“Me. You want to see the license again?”
“It just doesn’t make sense.” That had been the point he’d been making for fifteen minutes now.
“A lot of things don’t make sense. For example, you believing that everything on your girlfriend is the original equipment doesn’t make sense. But the bottom line is: I have the license, I need the money, and I take on clients. Luther is one of them.” I left out the part about him being my first flesh-and-blood client.
After leaving McElone’s office, I had spent a little while searching through the phone book (it’s a big paper thing, children, that has the names and phone numbers of all the people who live in your town) for Julia MacKenzie, the apparent love of Paul’s life, who had been living in the area when Paul and Maxie died. She was not listed, and a call to Information (it’s this number you can call to…Never mind) showed no phone number, listed or not, under that name. Yeah, I’m old school.
Twenty years ago, that might have been definitive proof that Julia had left the area, but in an age when people give up their landlines entirely for cell-phone service, it meant a grand total of nothing. And since she could have been listed with any of at least twelve possible service providers in New Jersey, my PI license was going to get me bubkes in tracking down Julia’s phone number.
I would have to ask Paul more about his almost-fiancée, which, given his emotional outburst the last time we’d discussed it, was not an exciting prospect.
“Fine,” my ex answered, “you go ahead and pretend you’re Nancy Drew, but we haven’t yet sat down as a family for a meal since I’ve been back.”
“That’s because we’re not a family anymore,” I reminded him. “We’re a single mom and her daughter, and you’re the guy who left. We’ve spent a long time and done a lot of hard work to accept that. You don’t get to change it because the dye job you were dating decided to trade you in for a newer model.” I didn’t know that was what had happened, but payback, despite the common expression, can be quite enjoyable.
“Amee does not dye her hair,” The Swine said. Was that the best he could do? “But I realize you’re still sore about my leaving. That’s my fault, and I get that. I could apologize from now until the end of time, and it wouldn’t change anything. All I want is for you to accept that I really am sorry, and whether or not that makes a difference to you, it’s the truth.” Okay, so that hadn’t been the best he could do.
I rejected the usual pizza place and the Chinese takeout because we always use those, and Melissa wasn’t a big fan of Chinese, although that started to change when she discovered the power of the lo mein noodle. Was I actually looking for something special because Luther was coming for dinner? I’d have to stop and think about that at some point. I probably should have asked him what kind of food he liked, too. Well, he hadn’t
Similar Books
