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Authors: Rebecca M. Hale
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All that was left was for the interim mayor to take credit for the success.
The Monty train—or boat, as the case may be—was paddling full steam ahead.
It was his race to lose.
No one could convince him otherwise.
He wasn’t the least bit worried that a serial killer might be circling his office, her needles at the ready for another kill.
Chapter 18
THE ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT
ACROSS THE STREET from Monty’s art studio, the occupants of the redbrick building that housed the Green Vase antique shop bustled about their regular morning activities.
Oscar’s niece trudged sleepily down the stairs from the second-floor kitchen carrying a plastic mug filled with fresh-brewed coffee. Halfway down, she waved the cup beneath her nose, sniffing the caffeinated steam wafting out the vents in the lid.
Isabella looked up from the bottom of the stairwell and issued a series of sharp chirps. Her tail poked authoritatively into the air like the baton of a traffic guard leading a child through a crosswalk.
The cat took seriously her role in getting her person out of bed each morning and to their day job at City Hall.
The niece had reluctantly agreed to serve as the interim mayor’s administrative assistant for the first few months of his term.
She had no real interest in the field of secretarial services. Truth be told, she had no idea what running the mayor’s office entailed—but then again, neither did Monty.
The niece had only taken the position as a means of conducting surveillance on the workspace that had previously been occupied by the woman now known as the Knitting Needle Ninja.
—
SO FAR, THE police had had little luck in tracking down City Hall’s serial killer.
Mabel was last seen leaving the Capitol Building in Sacramento, where she had been working for her old boss in his new lieutenant governor’s office. Luckily, news of her San Francisco crimes broke before any Sacramento interns could fall victim to her deadly slaying needles.
However, despite widespread media coverage and the Bay Area’s entire population being on the lookout for the gray-haired administrative assistant, there had been no reported sightings.
The Ninja had vanished.
Or had she?
Uncle Oscar felt certain that Mabel would return to her regular hunting grounds. He’d organized a team to watch for her at City Hall.
The niece couldn’t imagine Mabel would risk showing her face anywhere in San Francisco, much less City Hall, but she had grudgingly signed on for a short stint in the mayor’s office.
She had to admit that, at first, it was a little creepy sitting for hours at the desk where Mabel had plotted so many murders.
That discomfort was minimal, she soon discovered, compared to the hassle of working with Mayor Monty on a daily basis.
—
THE NIECE PEERED out the antique shop’s front glass windows across the street to where Monty stood waiting for his city-issued town car.
There was no escaping the man, she thought with a sigh.
She winced as Monty cupped a hand over his brow and tried to see through the showroom’s front glass. He must have spied her shadow at the back of the room, because he suddenly lifted his hand and waved it in the air over his head.
Grimacing, the niece wiggled a few fingers in return.
If they ever did track down the elusive Knitting Needle Ninja, she would have to ask the woman how she’d pulled off such an effective disappearing act.
—
THE NIECE SET her coffee on a display table, turned away from the window, and bent to slip on her tennis shoes.
She wore a practical skirt and blouse, the uniform she had grudgingly chosen for her duties at City Hall. She’d acceded to the necessity of wearing business attire, but she’d drawn the line at panty hose. A pair of running tights would keep her otherwise bare legs warm until she reached the office.
One of the many benefits of living in casual California
, she thought as she stood and adjusted the leggings. And then there was the
The Monty train—or boat, as the case may be—was paddling full steam ahead.
It was his race to lose.
No one could convince him otherwise.
He wasn’t the least bit worried that a serial killer might be circling his office, her needles at the ready for another kill.
Chapter 18
THE ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT
ACROSS THE STREET from Monty’s art studio, the occupants of the redbrick building that housed the Green Vase antique shop bustled about their regular morning activities.
Oscar’s niece trudged sleepily down the stairs from the second-floor kitchen carrying a plastic mug filled with fresh-brewed coffee. Halfway down, she waved the cup beneath her nose, sniffing the caffeinated steam wafting out the vents in the lid.
Isabella looked up from the bottom of the stairwell and issued a series of sharp chirps. Her tail poked authoritatively into the air like the baton of a traffic guard leading a child through a crosswalk.
The cat took seriously her role in getting her person out of bed each morning and to their day job at City Hall.
The niece had reluctantly agreed to serve as the interim mayor’s administrative assistant for the first few months of his term.
She had no real interest in the field of secretarial services. Truth be told, she had no idea what running the mayor’s office entailed—but then again, neither did Monty.
The niece had only taken the position as a means of conducting surveillance on the workspace that had previously been occupied by the woman now known as the Knitting Needle Ninja.
—
SO FAR, THE police had had little luck in tracking down City Hall’s serial killer.
Mabel was last seen leaving the Capitol Building in Sacramento, where she had been working for her old boss in his new lieutenant governor’s office. Luckily, news of her San Francisco crimes broke before any Sacramento interns could fall victim to her deadly slaying needles.
However, despite widespread media coverage and the Bay Area’s entire population being on the lookout for the gray-haired administrative assistant, there had been no reported sightings.
The Ninja had vanished.
Or had she?
Uncle Oscar felt certain that Mabel would return to her regular hunting grounds. He’d organized a team to watch for her at City Hall.
The niece couldn’t imagine Mabel would risk showing her face anywhere in San Francisco, much less City Hall, but she had grudgingly signed on for a short stint in the mayor’s office.
She had to admit that, at first, it was a little creepy sitting for hours at the desk where Mabel had plotted so many murders.
That discomfort was minimal, she soon discovered, compared to the hassle of working with Mayor Monty on a daily basis.
—
THE NIECE PEERED out the antique shop’s front glass windows across the street to where Monty stood waiting for his city-issued town car.
There was no escaping the man, she thought with a sigh.
She winced as Monty cupped a hand over his brow and tried to see through the showroom’s front glass. He must have spied her shadow at the back of the room, because he suddenly lifted his hand and waved it in the air over his head.
Grimacing, the niece wiggled a few fingers in return.
If they ever did track down the elusive Knitting Needle Ninja, she would have to ask the woman how she’d pulled off such an effective disappearing act.
—
THE NIECE SET her coffee on a display table, turned away from the window, and bent to slip on her tennis shoes.
She wore a practical skirt and blouse, the uniform she had grudgingly chosen for her duties at City Hall. She’d acceded to the necessity of wearing business attire, but she’d drawn the line at panty hose. A pair of running tights would keep her otherwise bare legs warm until she reached the office.
One of the many benefits of living in casual California
, she thought as she stood and adjusted the leggings. And then there was the
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