Read Online The Scent of Lies: A Paradise Valley Mystery by Debra Burroughs - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debra Burroughs
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back, flashing him a nervous smile.
“Can’t we eat, Isabel?” her husband asked. “I’m starving. Maggie can eat when she gets here.”
“All right. Everyone grab a plate and serve yourselves, buffet style,” Isabel directed.
Isabel and Camille corralled Emily and Colin and made sure they sat together around the expansive table in the dining room, encouraging conversation between them. Emily noticed her girlfriends kept looking at each other and grinning, obviously pleased with themselves.
“So, Colin,” Emily jumped in first, “tell me about yourself. I hear you recently moved to Paradise Valley from San Francisco.”
“That’s right. I was just hired as the new police detective. I had heard the old guy wanted to retire, so I put my name in the hat and they chose me. It doesn’t usually work that way, but the police chief wanted someone with experience. He said Paradise Valley is such a quiet place none of his officers had experience investigating the big stuff.”
“Huge change from San Francisco, I’m guessing,” she said, wondering what San Francisco would be like—the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf, Golden Gate Park, Ghirardelli Square, the cable cars. She always wanted to visit the city by the bay.
“Yeah, it’s a pretty big culture shock, but I was ready for a change.”
“Really? Why is that?” Emily was getting lost in his sexy hazel eyes and dark lashes.
“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you about it another time. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Well, I hope you like our valley. We have a lot to do here.”
“You’ll have to show me some of the sights sometime,” he said between bites. “So, tell me, what do you do Emily?”
“Well, I was a real estate agent, but I am currently transitioning into being a private investigator.”
He nearly choked, coughing and sputtering. He grabbed his glass of iced tea and took a couple of gulps.
“Did something go down the wrong way?” she asked.
“You could say that,” Colin replied, coughing a few more times. “You said you’re transitioning into being a private investigator?”
“Yes...why?” She thought she had been perfectly clear in what she said.
“Well, you can’t just be a real estate agent one day and decide to be an investigator the next.”
She bristled at his comment. He didn’t know her or her life, yet he seemed to feel free to give his opinion. She didn’t care how handsome he was, his words were so condescending she had to get away from him before she told him what she honestly thought.
“I think I need another drink,” she said curtly, picking up her plate and glass and dashing to the kitchen. She hoped Colin would pick up on the fact she took her plate too, a sign she had no intention of coming back. Camille and Isabel scurried after her.
* * *
Delia ate her supper alone and when she was finished, she took her dish to the sink.
“Thank you, Marcela. That was delicious.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Delia,” the young housekeeper answered. “I’ll clean up the kitchen then I’ll be in my room.”
Marcela was a young Latina woman with big brown eyes and dark hair that she always wore up in a tight bun, along with her blue-gray skirted uniform, when she was at work. Her mother had been Delia’s housekeeper for several years until she was diagnosed with breast cancer. When she could no longer work, Marcela had asked if she could take her mother’s place. After her mother died, Marcela moved in with Delia and Ricardo and became their live-in housekeeper and cook.
“You don’t happen to know when my husband will be back, do you?”
“No, ma’am,” Marcela replied, rinsing the dishes in the sink and then loading the dishwasher.
“I think I’ll go upstairs and take a hot bath. A good long soak will do me good. I’ll see you in the morning, Marcela.”
“Good night.”
Delia left the housekeeper to finish up in the kitchen and went to the front entry hall where the staircase led to the
“Can’t we eat, Isabel?” her husband asked. “I’m starving. Maggie can eat when she gets here.”
“All right. Everyone grab a plate and serve yourselves, buffet style,” Isabel directed.
Isabel and Camille corralled Emily and Colin and made sure they sat together around the expansive table in the dining room, encouraging conversation between them. Emily noticed her girlfriends kept looking at each other and grinning, obviously pleased with themselves.
“So, Colin,” Emily jumped in first, “tell me about yourself. I hear you recently moved to Paradise Valley from San Francisco.”
“That’s right. I was just hired as the new police detective. I had heard the old guy wanted to retire, so I put my name in the hat and they chose me. It doesn’t usually work that way, but the police chief wanted someone with experience. He said Paradise Valley is such a quiet place none of his officers had experience investigating the big stuff.”
“Huge change from San Francisco, I’m guessing,” she said, wondering what San Francisco would be like—the Golden Gate Bridge, Fisherman’s Wharf, Golden Gate Park, Ghirardelli Square, the cable cars. She always wanted to visit the city by the bay.
“Yeah, it’s a pretty big culture shock, but I was ready for a change.”
“Really? Why is that?” Emily was getting lost in his sexy hazel eyes and dark lashes.
“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you about it another time. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Well, I hope you like our valley. We have a lot to do here.”
“You’ll have to show me some of the sights sometime,” he said between bites. “So, tell me, what do you do Emily?”
“Well, I was a real estate agent, but I am currently transitioning into being a private investigator.”
He nearly choked, coughing and sputtering. He grabbed his glass of iced tea and took a couple of gulps.
“Did something go down the wrong way?” she asked.
“You could say that,” Colin replied, coughing a few more times. “You said you’re transitioning into being a private investigator?”
“Yes...why?” She thought she had been perfectly clear in what she said.
“Well, you can’t just be a real estate agent one day and decide to be an investigator the next.”
She bristled at his comment. He didn’t know her or her life, yet he seemed to feel free to give his opinion. She didn’t care how handsome he was, his words were so condescending she had to get away from him before she told him what she honestly thought.
“I think I need another drink,” she said curtly, picking up her plate and glass and dashing to the kitchen. She hoped Colin would pick up on the fact she took her plate too, a sign she had no intention of coming back. Camille and Isabel scurried after her.
* * *
Delia ate her supper alone and when she was finished, she took her dish to the sink.
“Thank you, Marcela. That was delicious.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Delia,” the young housekeeper answered. “I’ll clean up the kitchen then I’ll be in my room.”
Marcela was a young Latina woman with big brown eyes and dark hair that she always wore up in a tight bun, along with her blue-gray skirted uniform, when she was at work. Her mother had been Delia’s housekeeper for several years until she was diagnosed with breast cancer. When she could no longer work, Marcela had asked if she could take her mother’s place. After her mother died, Marcela moved in with Delia and Ricardo and became their live-in housekeeper and cook.
“You don’t happen to know when my husband will be back, do you?”
“No, ma’am,” Marcela replied, rinsing the dishes in the sink and then loading the dishwasher.
“I think I’ll go upstairs and take a hot bath. A good long soak will do me good. I’ll see you in the morning, Marcela.”
“Good night.”
Delia left the housekeeper to finish up in the kitchen and went to the front entry hall where the staircase led to the
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