The Westport Mysteries Boxed Set

by Beth Prentice

  Realizing his blunder, Scott sobered up quickly. “It’s your birthday, Elizabeth, let’s not ruin it,” he said placing his hand over mine.

  Too late for that.

  Chapter Eleven

  When was this house ever going to be quiet in the morning?

  I really felt like a sleep in, but with all the banging and clattering going on upstairs, my chances were nil. My alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. What the hell had Riley up so early? My head was pounding and my stomach churned as I made my way to the bathroom. I felt like I had a hangover.

  Oh, that’s right, I probably do. I remember getting home around eleven last night, and being uptight and irritable. Finding the left-over wine, I’d gone into the lounge room and listened to classic Lionel Ritchie on my iPod singing about how he was stuck on you and cried for hours. I wanted someone to be stuck on me, and yet there I was on my birthday, alone and drinking straight from the bottle. As I’m not much of a drinker, it didn’t take long until I was at the bottom of the pit of self-pity. Geez, I really needed to get a grip. It’s not like I have a bad life, you know. Feeling marginally better after my shower, I headed downstairs to get some coffee, hoping it would cure me.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here this morning. I thought you would have stayed in the city last night.” Riley gave me the killer smile, looking particularly happy about something.

  “Change of plans. Could you pour me a coffee too, please?” I asked, sitting down at the table and putting my head in my hands. Riley poured me a cup and handed it to me.

  “Did you get to see Wicked?”

  “No, Scott gave me two tickets to see it on Saturday. I might take Molly with me.”

  “It looks like you had a bit of a party when you got home. I found the empty bottles in the lounge this morning.”

  Bottles? There was more than one? Geez, no wonder my head hurt.

  “I had a bit of a pity party,” I said, half embarrassed.

  “Yeah, I thought something like that must have happened. Lionel Ritchie was stuck on repeat when I walked in.” Riley’s smile really did light up the room. It just couldn’t cure a hangover.

  “How come you’re here so early?” I asked.

  “I had a few things I needed to finish in the attic before the carpet gets laid tomorrow, and seeing how we have the solicitor at ten, I thought I’d get a head start on them.”

  That’s right, I’d forgotten about the solicitor.

  “I think I’m going back to bed for a while. Would you wake me up in a couple of hours, please?”

  Shuffling back upstairs, I fell on the bed and immediately fell back to sleep.

  * * * *

  By the time I’d had a couple more hours sleep and some aspirin, I was almost human again and ready for another trip into the city. We were in Riley’s truck this time, which was a bit of a pity as I wasn’t able to touch him every time a gear needed to be changed. Oh well, probably for the best as I still hadn’t analyzed what had happened in the kitchen last night.

  Riley appeared to be deep in thought, so our trip was a quiet one. It’s funny how I feel comfortable even when we’re not talking. I actually never feel like I have to prove myself to Riley. Probably because he has no romantic interest in me.

  Patrick John’s office was in the heart of the city, and walking in I had a good look around. It didn’t take long as his office wasn’t very big. The reception was unpretentious in its decoration with a mahogany desk for his secretary and a small two-seater lounge pushed against one wall for visitors. The beige walls were decorated with the many certificates and awards Mr. Johns had received over the years. One of these was a plaque presented to him by the Global Ministry. I knew of this ministry, as I passed it on my way to my parents. It wasn’t like the church I’d attended Sunday school at, which was very traditional. The Global Ministry held its service in what used to be the basketball stadium, and they sang a lot. Loudly. I knew it had a large, growing congregation, so they’d knocked down the stadium and built a big new building—supposedly big enough to hold all 1200 of its followers. Looking at the plaque, I was distracted as the door to another office opened and a man I presumed was Mr. Johns stepped out. He looked about sixty with salt and pepper-colored hair and glasses perched on his hawk-like nose. His suit was a bit too big for him, but he seemed friendly enough as he introduced himself and invited us in.

  “What can I do for you lovely folk?” he asked with a smile, closing the door behind us. Sitting down, Riley quickly filled him in on our mission and asked if he could give us any information that might be useful to us.

  “I’m sure you are aware I can’t divulge any personal information about Ms. Miller, but what I can tell you is her estate was sold and the proceeds given to a local charity. It was the local cat shelter, if I’m not mistaken. I personally oversaw the clearing of the house. Any furniture and personal belongings were also donated, all except her photos. Because of the age of some of them, we felt it would be beneficial for those to go to the local library for their archives,” he mused.

  “Did Avis ever mention anyone named Will to you, Mr. Johns?” I asked. I watched as he started to fidget in his chair.

  “Not that I remember. If you don’t mind me asking, why does this interest you so much?” he asked.

  “We found some letters and a ring hidden under the floor and wanted to return them to their original owner,” Riley said.

  “I see. Unfortunately, my connection with Ms. Miller was purely professional and even then our meetings were brief. What information did the letters contain?” he asked. His eyes had got brighter, and all of a sudden I could visualize him in a courtroom. Looking around his inner office, I don’t think he got that opportunity often though.

  “Not much really. We felt they were personal and should be returned to the writer. Destroying them doesn’t feel right,” I said.

  “The writer may no longer be alive. Maybe you should bring them to me and I’ll take a look at them. See if I can do some digging for you,” suggested Mr. Johns with a smile.

  This sounded like a nice offer, but I didn’t think we’d be taking it up anytime soon. I had a weird feeling Mr. Johns was holding out on us.

  “Also, I know legally the ring belongs to you now,” he said, turning to me, “but maybe you’d like to hand it to me to be sold and given to the charity as well. After all, I’m sure that’s what Ms. Miller would have wanted,” he said, giving me a sweet, almost sickly smile.

  “Thank you Mr. Johns, we’ll keep that in mind if we can’t find who it belongs to.” Riley stood.

  Time to go by the looks of things. And not a moment too soon as the feeling of uneasiness grew.

  * * * *

  Walking back out into the street, we decided to grab some lunch and worked our way to a sandwich shop not far from my old office. This particular shop was a favorite of mine and was very retro, stuck between a sushi bar and a bookshop. After ordering my usual turkey and cranberry Panini, Riley and I found a booth and sat down to wait for our order.

  “Next stop the library,” said Riley. We’d decided we should take a look at Avis’s old photos to see if they held any clues.

  “Yes, I’m actually excited to see the photos. I wonder if any of them were of the house.” I thought for a moment. “Did you feel Mr. Johns knew more than he was letting on?” I asked, quietly shredding my napkin as I spoke.

  “Funny you should say that, but that’s exactly what I felt.”

  “But what? Do you think he knew who Will was?”

  “No idea, but whatever it was, he wasn’t about to tell us.”

  Thinking about this, I nearly missed Belinda walking in with Scott. They walked straight to the back of the shop and sat in a booth in the far corner. Riley noticed them too and he looked at me, eyebrows arched. Belinda had obviously visited her cosmetic surgeon recently as her lips were looking awfully swollen, but apart from that she was looking very nice with her designer suit and four inch heels, towering over Scott.
Something about the way they looked at each other seemed a bit more intimate than a business lunch.

  “That’s weird. Scott told me he had a meeting on the other side of the city today. That’s why we left the restaurant early last night. He needed his rest to be ready for it,” I said, twisting the remnants of my napkin between my fingers. The feeling of unease that had been creeping around in my stomach ever since we’d visited the solicitor was now on its way to full-blown anxiety attack. Then again, it could just be the hangover causing the sick feeling in my stomach.

  “Why don’t you go over and say hello?” suggested Riley.

  I looked at him, deciding what to do. “Okay, I’ll just be a minute.” I got up and headed over to their booth.

  “Hi, Scott, Belinda.” I smiled tightly. Both of them jumped so high they physically lifted off their seats.

  “Elizabeth. What are you doing here?” asked Scott, obviously annoyed I had interrupted…whatever I was interrupting.

  “I was visiting a solicitor here in the city. I told you about it last night, remember? I thought you had a big meeting today on the other side of the city?”

  “What?” A look of confusion crossed his face but he quickly recovered. “Oh yes, that’s right. It was cancelled,” he said, looking flustered. I noticed the small bead of sweat sitting on his top lip.

  “Is everything alright?” I asked looking from him to Belinda and back again, my stomach clenching.

  “Yes, of course, why wouldn’t it be?” he asked, avoiding eye contact altogether.

  “You just seem a bit uptight, that’s all.”

  “I’m not uptight. I just don’t like all the questions,” he snapped. “I haven’t questioned you as to why you are here, have I?”

  “Well no, but I told you last night I would be here.” I could feel my blood pressure rising, but decided a deep breath would be much more beneficial. “Riley and I are just getting lunch if you’d like to sit with us,” I suggested.

  “Oh no, I don’t think so. Belinda and I are running late for another meeting. We should probably go, Belinda.” They both stood and almost ran out of the shop, without waiting for their order.

  “What was that about?” asked Riley when I returned to the table. “I hope they didn’t leave on account of me being here.”

  “No, some unforgotten meeting they suddenly remembered they were late for,” I shrugged. It was all very strange. If Scott had been with anybody other than Belinda, I would think he was having an affair. But Belinda? She was the same age as my mother.

  * * * *

  I tried to push all thoughts of them aside as we made our way to the library. I think it was the hangover making me restless, as even after two strong coffees I still couldn’t think straight and had a dull throbbing in the front of my head.

  The Westport library was in an old, small, two-story municipal building that was extremely bland and boring. For such a small library, it was surprisingly busy and it was hard to find a place to sit. This afternoon they were holding a workshop on how to manage stress and anxiety. I was thinking I should probably stay and join in as my stress and anxiety levels were pretty high. Riley however, dragged me away and over to the counter where a particularly pretty lady sat.

  He had to pick the pretty one, didn’t he? I mean, sitting right next to her was a large, frumpy looking woman with a frown on the face. Why didn’t he go to her instead? Okay, after my run-in with Scott my imagination was working overtime. It didn’t help that Riley had been so close all freaking day, and looked and smelled like heaven on a stick, just tempting me to lick him. In fact, running my tongue up his neck might improve my mood and help with the hangover. It would actually be doing both of us a favor, really.

  I scowled as Miss Pretty Library Lady fluttered her eyelashes at Riley and directed us upstairs to where the old photos were kept. It turned out there weren’t very many of them we were interested in, only five in fact, all black and white.

  Struggling to concentrate on the photos and not on Riley, I turned the photo over and read the writing on the back. The first one was taken in 1949 and was of an older woman standing with a younger woman in front of my house. Wow, my old house was in such good condition then. If only they’d kept it up. I could only assume it was a photo of a young Avis with her mother. The next few photos were similar. One of them was of Avis with a lady—maybe a friend or neighbor—and something about her was familiar. I just couldn’t put my finger on what.

  But there was nothing to give us any clues to who Will might be.

  Damn.

  Chapter Twelve

  Waking up to a bright and sunny day with all signs of the hangover gone, told me today was going to be a good one. The carpet was being laid in my newly painted office and it was going to look great. Riley had done an amazing job ripping the old bathroom out and remodeling so I now had a small toilet and basin area, and storeroom for all the files that were on their way. I wasn’t sure where Riley was. Earlier in the morning, he was hammering something or other upstairs but he’d gone pretty quiet in the last hour or so. Never mind, he’s a big boy, he would sort himself out.

  With my iPod blaring the latest Lady Gaga album, I spent a good hour or so in the bathroom applying makeup and trying to get my hair to behave. By some miracle it actually looked okay. With just the right length, just the right amount of humidity, and just the right amount of hair product, it can be tamed. Of course, all planets must also be in the correct alignment for this to happen.

  Today, Danny and I were taking Molly to the animal shelter to—hopefully—bring Harper home. Molly still had no idea what we were doing as I had done a good job keeping my mouth shut.

  Right on time Danny picked me and we headed over to Molly’s. Danny looked pretty cute today with his straightened black hair slicked back to emphasize the large amethyst earring he wore in one ear. He’d obviously dressed for the occasion, as he was in casual three quarter cut off pants and a purple over-shirt open at the front showing us all his black I heart Dogs T-shirt. Reaching Molly’s, Danny beeped his horn to let her know we were waiting. Molly came running towards us, obviously thinking her surprised involved more shopping than anything else. She’d dressed in white jeans and a tight black knitted top, hair tumbling down her back in beautiful ringlets. Looking down at myself, in my plain denim jeans, white T-shirt and hoodie, I felt like the ugly duckling of the family.

  Once we reached the animal shelter, it took Molly a minute to get her bearings and figure out what we were doing.

  “Happy birthday!” yelled Danny. “We thought we’d give you a new roommate.”

  “We’ve already picked one out for you but wanted you to see him before we bought him,” I explained.

  She looked a bit shell-shocked, but followed us silently through to the reception area. I was feeling a bit concerned as silence was unusual for Molly.

  We were greeted by a lovely lady and when we asked to see Harper we were directed to the paddocks out the back. Today, he was accompanied by another dog and an attendant. Because of the storm we’d had on Tuesday, the ground was muddy and the once little, sort of white Harper was now little, brown, muddy Harper. Unlike the first time Danny and I had seen him—when he’d sat back and quietly checked us out—as soon as Molly entered the gate he ran straight to her and jumped up against her leg. It was as if he’d been waiting for her.

  Molly immediately sat down in the mud and God knows what else and put her arms around him. Danny and I, mouths agape, turned and looked at each other. Molly was usually very concerned with her appearance and always particular about her clothing. To sit down in the mud was unheard of. When she looked up at us, tears were running down her face. Of course, by this time Danny and I were also in tears. The attendant just looked at us and smiled, obviously used to this kind of reaction.

  “Do you like him?” I asked, digging in my bag for a tissue.

  “He’s gorgeous. Is he really mine?” she asked quietly.

  “If you want him to b
e, yes,” answered Danny discreetly wiping his face with the back of his hand.

  I think the answer to that was obvious. We were directed back to reception to pay for him and fill out all the necessary paperwork while the attendant gave Harper a bath. With all this done, we headed back to the car with our newest family member. I wondered if Harper knew how lucky he was. He was going to be the most spoilt dog ever to have walked the earth.

  “I have to take these forms down to the council office to register him within the next fourteen days,” said Molly, reading from the forms she had been given. She’d finally stopped crying and was now looking lovingly at Harper, who had his head sticking out the car window, tongue flapping.

  “I wonder if you have to register a cat.” I asked wondering about Cat. “Can I come with you when you go, Molly? I have a few questions for them.”

  “Let’s go now on our way home then,” she suggested.

  * * * *

  The Council office wasn’t far from the animal refuge, and Danny waited in the car with Harper while Molly and I went inside. We watched as Harper stood, paws on the window, nose pressed to the glass, obviously wondering if he was being abandoned all over again.

  Inside Molly filed all the necessary paperwork for Harper, while I joined another queue to ask about Cat. I was served by a woman who looked a little younger than me, with cropped, bright red hair and matching lips.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I was hoping you could tell me if I need to register my cat.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said, handing me some forms to fill out.

  “The thing is,” I said with a small embarrassed smile, “I don’t know his real name. I’ve just been calling him Cat.” She paused, giving me a strange look, so I quickly explained the situation.