The Private Eye (4 page)

It was time to take charge of the situation. She had
set this whole thing up so she would have to see it through. Maggie returned
Josh's taunting smile with a stiff, mockingly polite one of her own.

“Mr. January – ”

“I thought I told everyone to call me Josh.”

It wasn’t worth an argument, Maggie reflected. “Very
well, Josh. I'll be blunt and tell you straight out that you are not what I
expected when I set out to hire a private investigator.”

“I rarely am. What people expect, that is. For some
reason I always seem to come as a surprise.”

“I can understand that,” Maggie said. “Now, then. As we
appear to be stuck with you – ”

“Really, Maggie,” Odessa interjected reproachfully.
“There's no need to be rude to Josh.”

“Yeah, he ain't really done nothin' yet,” Shirley
added. “Give the guy a chance.”

The Colonel cocked a disapproving brow at Maggie.
“Quite right, my dear. We must give our man an opportunity to do his job. Personalities
should not enter into the equation.”

Maggie flushed under the gentle rebukes. She could see
the laughter in Josh's eyes. “I fully intend to give our – I mean – Josh a
chance. As he himself has just told us, we appear to be getting what we paid
for.”

Josh held up a hand. “I have an idea. Why doesn't one
of you tell me why you all think you need a private investigator? I believe
Maggie's letter said something about 'disturbing occurrences' here at Peregrine
Manor. What disturbing occurrences?”

Predictably, everyone started to talk at once.

“The most unsettling incidents…” Odessa began in a
worried tone.

“Felt we should get a professional to look into them,”
the Colonel confided. “A lot at stake, you know. Potentially millions.”

“Warnings,” Shirley said eagerly. “That's what they
are. Warnings. And I don't mind tellin' you I'm scared.”

Josh held up his hand again. “I said one of you should
give me the details. Not all of you at once.” He looked straight at Maggie.
“You wrote the letter and you're apparently paying my fee, such as it is. Tell
me what, exactly, is going on around here.”

The Colonel cleared his throat in an attention-getting
manner. “He's quite right, Maggie. If we all talk at once we'll only cloud the
issue. Lay out the facts for our man.”

“All right.” Maggie crossed her legs and absently
started to swing her foot as she gathered her thoughts.

Josh January was the kind of man who dealt in hard
facts. He wouldn't be interested in hunches and intuition. “A series of
incidents have occurred here at the manor which have alarmed all of us to some
degree. In fact, the real reason we're closed for the off-season this year is
because of those incidents.”

“Give me some specifics,” Josh urged, his gaze on her
swinging foot.

“First, there are all the mechanical and structural
problems that we've been experiencing.” Maggie realized he was watching her
foot, which was half out of her patent-leather pump. She carefully uncrossed
her legs and slid her stocking-clad foot back into the shoe.

“At the height of the season the large freezer and the
refrigerator we use in the kitchen went on the fritz. We lost several hundred
dollars' worth of food. But worse than that, we had to close the dining room on
the biggest weekend of the year. A lot of people with reservations for dinner
were very upset. The inn was full and everyone was irritated at the
inconvenience.”

“Go on,” Josh prompted.

He seemed to have lost interest in her foot since she'd
put it back inside her shoe. Now, Maggie realized, for some reason he was watching
her hands.

“We've had continual problems with the furnace,
although it was installed less than two years ago.” Maggie finally realized
that her fingers were fluttering as she talked. She folded her hands in her
lap. “Then one day I happened to do a routine test on the smoke detector in the
basement and discovered that the batteries had been disconnected. That really
worried me. The Colonel keeps all his equipment and files in the basement, you
see. A fire that started down there would be disastrous.”

“Equipment and files?”

The Colonel shrugged modestly. “I do a bit of
experimenting. We'll get into that later, if you like.”

“I see.” Josh switched his gaze back to Maggie.
“Anything else strange going on?”

She bit her lip. She was afraid Josh wasn't very
impressed so far. “As I said, there have been a variety of little, annoying
breakdowns. The new hot-water tank went out. The guests were very irate over
that, lean tell you.”

“Some of them shouted at Maggie in the rudest possible
terms. Very upsetting,” Odessa confided. “The Colonel was forced to speak to
one man who was ex “Conduct unbecoming,” as we used to say in the military.”
The Colonel shook his head with a frown. “I sent the fellow packing, of
course.”

Maggie smiled wryly. “Unfortunately you sent him
packing before he had paid for his room.”

“Maintaining standards is considerably more important
than money,” Odessa declared.

“Right,” Shirley agreed. “Gotta have standards.”

“Very true,” the Colonel murmured. “Can't tolerate just
any sort of behaviour, you know.”

Maggie stifled a small sigh. It was much easier to take
the high road on that subject when one wasn't trying to keep the books
balanced. She realized Josh was watching her intently again. She hurried on
with the rest of the tale. “In addition to the trouble with the hot water tank,
we had trouble with the toilets. Then the rooms with fireplaces, such as yours,
all developed problems in the chimneys. The rooms filled up with smoke whenever
the guests lit their fires. The fire trucks were here every night for a week
before we had to make a rule that no one could use the fireplaces.”

Shirley shook her head grimly. “We finally got 'em
cleaned out and working, but it was one thing after another and first thing you
know, word started getting around.”

Josh glanced at her. “What word?”

“You know. Like the manor was not a nice place to stay
anymore. Too many problems. Old-fashioned wiring. Inconvenient. In need of
repairs, Folks said the new management was letting the place go down the tubes.
Maggie started losing bookings.”

Josh gave Maggie a thoughtful look. “Is that right?”

She nodded unhappily. “After the trouble with the
fireplaces, I decided it would be better to say we were closing for the
off-season this year. I told everyone repairs were going to be made over the
winter and that things would be back in tiptop shape by spring. But the truth
is, the place is already in good shape. Great-Aunt Agatha saw to that.”

“Who's Agatha? Besides being your great-aunt, that is,”
Josh inquired.

The Colonel answered that one. “Agatha Gladstone was
one of the finest ladies you'd ever want to know. She owned this place for
forty years. Died last year and left the manor to Maggie, here.”

Josh absorbed that. Maggie could see questions in his
eyes but he didn't ask them. Instead, he focused on his original line of
inquiry. “Okay, let me get this straight. There have been a series of small but
annoying mechanical and electrical problems here at the manor. The inn started
getting a bad reputation and you decided to close the place down except for
your three regular guests, here.”

Maggie blinked at him in surprise. “Odessa, Shirley and
the Colonel are not guests. They are permanent residents. The manor is their
home, too. Aunt Agatha made that very clear.”

The Colonel nodded. “Had an understanding, don't you
see? We're a family. Agatha's gone, rest her soul, but now we've got Maggie.”

Josh eyed Maggie. “Uh-huh. Just one big happy family.”

Maggie frowned. “The point is, we don't believe all the
incidents over the past few months have been due to sheer bad luck. We want you
to find out who or what is behind them, and what his motive is. Before you
begin, you should know that we alt have different theories you really ought to
check out.”

Josh sipped his whiskey. “Would anyone mind if we ate
dinner before we explored these theories? I'm hungry. I was promised
home-cooked meals, if you'll re call.”

Maggie stood abruptly and managed a tight smile .

“Not at all. If you'll excuse me for a minute, I’ll go
check, on the casserole.”

“I'll come with you,” Odessa said.

The Colonel rose gallantly as the two women headed for
the door. “Maggie and Odessa do the cooking around here these days,” he explained
to Josh. “Had to let the chef and kitchen help go when we closed down for the
winter. Shirley and I clean up.”

“Just one big happy family,” Josh murmured again.

“Don't knock it,” Shirley remarked. “It works.”

Maggie glanced back over her shoulder as a thought
occurred to her. She paused in the doorway, wondering how a man could simply
take off for an entire month. “Do you have a family. Josh?”

“No,” said Josh. “The only one I have to worry about is
myself. I like it that way.”

Maggie shivered under the wintry chill of his words and
hurried down the hall after Odessa.

“What do you think of him?” Maggie hissed under her
breath when she caught up with the older woman.

“Seems quite a capable young man,” Odessa answered
cheerfully as they entered the kitchen. “I feel we're in good hands, dear.”

“Capable? The man's on crutches, for heaven's sake. And
he doesn't seem all that professional to me. His attitude seems wrong. And he
doesn't even carry a gun. I thought all private eyes carried guns.”

“Perhaps that's only true in those novels you're always
reading, dear. Have you ever actually met any private investigators?” Odessa
opened the refrigerator door and removed the tossed green salad she had prepared
earlier.

“Well, no. But I've read enough mysteries to have a
good idea of what to expect in an investigator.” Maggie grabbed a set of hot
pads and opened the oven door.

Fragrant steam wafted upward. “It occurs to me that
maybe Josh January accepted this job because he thought the manor might be a
nice place to recuperate from his accident. He probably thinks our problems
will make for a real cushy assignment.”

“I wonder what happened to him?” Odessa tossed the
salad greens with the dressing that had been made from her own secret recipe.
“Do you suppose it was an accident?”

“More likely someone got really annoyed with him and
pushed him down a flight of stairs.” Maggie muttered darkly as she hoisted the
casserole out of the oven.

“You're not far off,” Josh said from the doorway. He
leaned with one shoulder propped against the wall, both crutches in one hand.
Somehow he managed to though he was precariously balanced.

“Someone did get really annoyed with me.”

Maggie set the casserole down very quickly. It was the
heat of the oven that was causing a flush to rise up her neck, she assured
herself. She glanced pointedly at his crutches. “I didn't hear you coming down
the hall.”

Josh grinned evilly. “I know. Moving stealthily is
child's play for us professional private eyes. We take special courses in it.”
He tapped the crutches soundlessly on the Oriental rug in the hall. “The
carpeting makes it easy, you see. Even with crutches. You might want to remember
that.”

“I will,” Maggie snapped.

“Fay no attention to Maggie,” Odessa said lightly.

“She was just being clever. Maggie has quite a sense of
humour.” She smiled serenely as she carried the salad past him out of the
kitchen. “Do have a seat at the big round table in the dining room. Josh. We'll
have dinner ready in a moment.”

“Thanks.” Josh waited until Odessa had disappeared into
the dining room before turning back to Maggie. “Anything I can do to help?” he
asked blandly.

“I doubt it,” Maggie replied. “Not in your present
condition.” She swept grandly past him, casserole in hand.

“Remind me not to be standing at the top of any
staircases when you're around,” Josh murmured to her back.

MAGGIE HAD BEEN DEAD-ON, Josh reflected midway through
dinner. He had taken on this ludicrous excuse for a case primarily because it
had seemed like a cushy job and because he needed some time to recover from his
“accident.” Very clever lady, that Maggie Gladstone. He would have to keep an
eye on her. It would be one of the perks of the job.

The case itself was going to be a cinch, of course just
as McCray had predicted. The situation here at Peregrine Manor was a clear-cut
case of some unfortunate luck coupled with some vivid imaginations.

Things were constantly going wrong in big old houses.

His client had obviously panicked over a few minor
incidents that were actually nothing more than perfectly normal problems.

The trick would be to stretch out this so-called case
for an entire month. If he did stay the four weeks, as planned, he could get
some good solid writing done on the book. He would do it, he decided promptly.
When he was feeling fit again and had decided whether or not he was cut out to
be a mystery writer, he would prepare an imposing report to present to his
client. She and her “family” would be suitably impressed and probably relieved
to be told no one was behind the incidents.