Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [19]
Riley immediately rushed home to share her discovery with Aunt Mimsey.
“Did that man have it?” her aunt asked. “Did you get it from that man I saw lurking about?”
Well, she’d certainly gotten something from “that man,” but it hadn’t been the missing piece of jewelr y.“No, but maybe if we return this to Mrs. Dorchester, we can start putting the pieces together. We’ll describe the man and see if Mrs. D. knows him. Surely, he’s the culprit!”
“I’ve always said how much I admire that broach. I’m sure Winifred will be glad to get it back,” Aunt Mimsey said.
Moments later, the two women strolled up the winding cobblestone walk to the Dorchesters’ quaint-but-sprawling English Tudor home. Edna Barnes, the longtime housekeeper with her curling silver hair and a blue maid’s uniform that made her look like a waitress, let them in, then fetched the lady of the house. “Mimsey and Riley have come for a visit,” Edna told Mrs. D. with her usual smile as she led the regal older lady into the room.
Riley was about to explain why they were there—when a tall, dark, drop-dead-gorgeous man strode into the front parlor behind Mrs. Dorchester. Riley’s mystery man! Her heartbeat kicked up at the mere sight of him as memories of their very recent kiss assaulted her senses.
“I’d like you two to meet my nephew, Sloane Bennett,” Mrs. Dorchester said. “Sloane is a private investigator, visiting all the way from Los Angeles. He’s come to hunt for my broach. Sloane, meet my neighbors from the cottage next door—Mimsey and her niece, Riley Wainscott.”
Riley’s eyes locked on the so-called P.I., ignoring the introduction. “Well, he need not hunt any longer, because I found it.” She opened her palm, cradling the velvet bag, the broach resting atop it.
Mrs. D. gasped. “Oh heavens! Wherever did you locate it?”
Riley still honed in on Sloane the mad kisser. “In your toolshed,” she replied, then added accusingly, “right after I met your nephew there!”
“Damn, I must have overlooked it,” Sloane Bennett said with arrogant ease.
“Sounds suspicious to me,” Riley replied. “What were you even doing in the toolshed?”
“I could ask you the same question,” he answered, appearing far too amused for her liking.
“I was responding to the report of a stranger sneaking around,” she said smartly.
“And I was following footprints, probably left during the heavy rain my aunt tells me occurred a few evenings back.”
“Oh.” Well, so what? Riley could have found footprints, too, if she’d wanted to—she just hadn’t officially taken up the missing broach case until a few short minutes ago.
Aunt Mimsey stepped forward to shake Sloane Bennett’s hand. “How nice that you’re a private eye. Riley here is a detective in her own right.”
He gave his head a jovial tilt. “Is that so?”
She supposed she could understand his attitude—she’d probably seemed a lot more interested in kissing than detecting. But then again, so had he.
He snatched the broach and its black pouch out of her hand. “Well, you need not trouble yourself with this any longer, honey—I’ll take care of it from here on out.”
Like hell you will, Riley thought. Mr. Hotshot Private Eye Kisser might think he was the only one who could solve this peculiar little mystery, but Riley intended to prove differently. From now on, it would take more than a kiss to knock her off her game.
By the end of the day, Riley and Sloane had grudgingly agreed to work together to figure out who had taken the broach and why the thief had stashed it in Mrs. D.’s very own toolshed. Aunt Mimsey had suggested the partnership, and Mrs. Dorchester had thought it a grand idea, too. And Laura couldn’t help being pleased that Riley was clearly going to have the opportunity to get intimate with her nemesis-slash-partner again, even if Riley wasn’t yet a hundred percent sure the guy could even be trusted.
Maybe Riley, she thought, could use a little excitement in her love life.