The Private Eye (2 page)

“Strikes me we might need a man who knows how to handle
a pistol,” the Colonel declared ominously.

“Dang right,” Shirley agreed. “The last thing we need
is some snobbish little wimp. This is a job for a guy with guts, as my Ricky
always used to say.”

Maggie paused in the doorway of the parlor. “He's from
Business Intelligence and Security, Inc. It's one of the most exclusive
security firms on the West Coast. We were very lucky to get him. I'm sure he's
no wimp.

Now, please hush, all of you. We don't want him to hear
us discussing him.”

“Run along and greet him, my dear,” Odessa said.

“Yeah,” added Shirley with a grin. “We'll behave.”

Maggie hurried out into the hall and caught a glimpse
of herself in the huge, gilded mirror that hung near the front desk. She had
chosen to wear a black silk jumpsuit that she thought complemented her slender
frame.

Her mass of tawny brown curls had been swept up on top
of her head, caught with a gold clip and allowed to cascade down her neck to
her shoulders.

Maggie frowned critically at her own image and hoped
she was projecting a savvy, with-it attitude. She wanted the fancy private
investigator to consider her sophisticated and businesslike. High-powered city
people sometimes thought they could bamboozle folks who lived in small towns
such as Peregrine Point. She didn't want this expensive security expert to get
the idea he could stay here at the manor for a month rent-free, write up a
short report and then leave. Maggie wanted action.

Something thumped against the door. It didn't sound
like a polite knock. Maggie grabbed the knob and yanked open the door.

She stared in amazement at the man who was standing on
the front porch. Her heart sank in disappointment. He was clearly not the private
investigator they'd all been anticipating, after all.

The poor man had obviously just been released from the
nearest hospital emergency room. He was balanced on crutches and his left foot
was heavily taped around the ankle. There was a large white bandage on his forehead.
Both of his eyes were outlined with dark, purple bruises.

“Oh, dear,” Maggie said. “I was expecting someone
else.”

The man scowled down at her. The glowering frown only
served to make an already hard-looking face appear downright ferocious. The shadow
of what looked like a day's growth of beard emphasized the effect. His black
hair was wet from the rain, as was the denim of his work shirt and jeans. Could
her first impression have been erroneous? He was certainly tall enough to suit
her image of a professional man of action, and he was built along the lean,
solid lines she had envisioned. Furthermore, there was something extremely
dangerous about the expression in his cold, grey eyes.

But it was a safe bet that no real private investigator
would show up for a case looking like the walking wounded.

“Do you mind if I come in?” the stranger growled in a
low, raspy voice. He sounded as if he'd endured a number of hardships recently
and was getting fed up with practicing the virtues of tolerance and patience.

“It's damn wet out here.”

“Yes, of course. Come on inside and dry off.” Maggie
stepped back quickly. “But I'm afraid you can't stay.

We aren't taking visitors until after the first of the
year.

Maybe not until spring. We're, uh, refurbishing. You
didn't have a reservation, by any chance, did you? I thought I notified all the
confirmed reservations. Who are you?”

“January.”

“Yes, that's what I said. We hope to be open again in
January. It all depends, you see. Now, if you do have a reservation and you weren't
notified that Peregrine Manor has had to close for a while, I'm very sorry. I
can probably get you a room for the night at one of the other bed-and-breakfast
places in town. No one is full at this time of year except on the weekends.”

The man moved into the hall, managing the crutches
skillfully but with obvious annoyance. “I said, I'm January. Joshua January.”
He quirked one black brow. “I believe you sent for me.”

Maggie's mouth fell open in shock. “You're January?

The private investigator from Business Intelligence and
Security, Inc.?”

“Right.” He transferred both crutches into his left
hand and ran his right hand through his dark hair.

Raindrops splattered the worn Oriental rug on the
floor. “Now, if I could have some help with my luggage, I'd appreciate it. It's
a little tough to manage suitcases when you're on these things.” He indicated
the crutches.

“But, Mr. January – ”

“Call me Josh.” He shot an impatient glance around the
small lobby. “Where's your bellboy?”

“We don't have one anymore. Look, Mr. January, there
must be some mistake.”

“No mistake.” Balancing precariously on the crutches,
he fished a familiar-looking sheet of paper out of his front pocket. “This is
Peregrine Manor, isn't it?”

“Well, yes, but – ”

He opened the sheet of paper and started to read aloud
in a grim monotone. “'In exchange for professional investigative services, I am
prepared to offer a month's lodging at one of the most charming
bed-and-breakfast inns in the Northwest. Peregrine Manor is a truly fine
example of delightful Victorian architecture, offering unique and distinctive
rooms furnished in period style.'”

“Yes, but – ”

“'At the manor,'” Josh continued in a relentless tone,
“'you'll be able to relax and enjoy the splendours of the Washington coast in
winter, a very special time of year here. You'll awaken each morning to a
hearty, home-cooked breakfast and in the afternoons you'll be served tea and
scones.'”

“Please, Mr. January – ”

“
'In the evenings we encourage you to enjoy conversation
and sherry with the other residents of the manor before proceeding on to dinner
in our gourmet restaurant. After dinner you'll be treated to cosy evenings by
the fireside. Come join us at Peregrine Manor and indulge yourself in the
tranquil environment of this lovely, unspoiled –
'”

“All right, Mr. January. That is quite enough, thank
you. I recognize my own words.”

He looked up and for the first time Maggie realized how
cold his eyes really were. They were a chilling, icy shade of grey that
reflected no warmth and even less patience. Joshua January had been well named.

“Good. So much for that.” Josh refolded the letter and
stuck it back into his front pocket. “You, I take it, are Ms. Margaret
Gladstone?”

“Well, yes.”

“Fine. I'm the licensed investigator you hired. I think
that settles the matter. Right place, right people, so let's get on with it.
I'd like the key to my room, if you don't mind.”

Maggie stared at him. “But you… you're…” She waved a
hand in a small, embarrassed gesture that indicated his crutches and bandages.
“You're not quite what we had in mind, Mr. January. I'm very sorry about your
obvious difficulties, and I mean no offense, but we feel we need a man of
action – if you know what I mean. We have a problem here at Peregrine Manor and
we need an investigator who is in good physical condition.”

His mouth curved briefly in a humourless smile.

“Good physical condition? On top of everything else?
That's expecting rather a lot, considering what you're paying, isn't it?”

Maggie was incensed. “Now, see here, Mr. January, I am
providing room and board at one of the choicest inns on the coast for an entire
month. That is hardly a pittance.”

“Do you have any idea what the usual hourly billing
rate is for round-the-clock BIS services, Ms. Gladstone?” josh asked very
softly.

“Well, no.” Of course, she hadn't bothered to inquire.
Maggie had known full well she didn't have the kind of cash it would take to
pay for full-time security service. She could barely pay the electricity bill
these days. “I didn't inquire as to your usual rates because I assumed that
what I was prepared to offer in exchange for services rendered was adequate
compensation.”

“Not even close, Ms. Gladstone.”

“Then why did you accept the case?” she shot back.

“Let's just say I happened to be feeling in a real
charitable mood when your letter arrived. You're my good deed for the year,
lady. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get my room key. I would also like to
have my luggage brought upstairs as I am in no condition to handle it myself. I
am supposed to be waited on hand and foot, according to my partner.”

“Why do I have the distinct impression that you are
rarely given to acts of charity, Mr. January?”

He grinned without any warning and there was something
extremely predatory looking about his excellent teeth. “Perhaps because you are
a very perceptive female, Ms. Gladstone. Shall we get moving, here?

It has not been a good day. In fact, it hasn't been a
good week or even a good month. I am more than ready to indulge myself in a
little tranquility.”

Maggie considered throwing him out and decided that was
an impossible task, even if she could get the Colonel to assist. Josh January
might be hobbling around on crutches and appear somewhat the worse for wear,
but he still looked awfully solid. “I suppose that since you're here now, you
may as well spend the night.”

“Ah, a touch of the gracious charm I was told to
expect.” Josh inclined his head in a mocking bow. “Thank you, Ms. Gladstone.”

“I'll get your key.” She stalked past him and went
behind the desk to take a key out of one of the little boxes on the wall.
“Number 312.”

“The third floor?” He gave her a disgusted look.

“Forget it. I'm not climbing up and down two flights of
stairs every time I leave the room. You said most of the guest rooms were
empty. There must be something available on a lower floor.”

He had a point, but Maggie was too annoyed by his tone
of voice to admit it. She snatched another key out of a box. “Number 210 in the
east turret.” That was the room right next door to her own, she realized with a
start. Not that it mattered, she decided. She automatically fell into the
standard sales pitch. “Quite a nice room, if I do say so, myself. Excellent
view of the sea. Canopied bed. Your own fireplace with wood supplied. Now,
then, if you go on up, I'll see to your luggage.”

Josh frowned and glanced through the open door to where
the black car was parked in the rain. “Have you got someone around who can give
you a hand?”

“Certainly,” Maggie said, lying through her teeth.
“Your luggage will be no problem. It will be brought up shortly.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and then adjusted the
crutches under his arms. “I smell something cooking. I'm starving. What's the
deal on dinner around here?”

“We, uh, were expecting you to join us here at the
inn,” Maggie replied uneasily. “But perhaps you'd rather drive into town,” she
added a touch eagerly.

“There are a couple of nice seafood places.”

“Too much trouble. I'll eat here. I'm supposed to eat
home-cooked meals. I'll be down as soon as I've showered and changed. Lord, I
could use a drink. It's been a hell of a drive.” The crutches thunked on the
bottom step.

Maggie bit her lip, watching him progress heavily up
the staircase. “I don't believe I mentioned it in my letter, but we – that is,
the other residents of the manor have established a little tradition of
dressing for dinner. I go along with it.” She eyed his jeans and work shirt. “I
rather assumed you might do the same.”

“Don't worry,” Josh said from halfway up the stairs.
“I'll dress. I rarely go out to dinner buck naked.”

Maggie closed her eyes in momentary despair and then
opened them again when she felt a cold blast of rain sweep into the hall through
the open door. She grabbed an umbrella from the old-fashioned stand, gritted
her teeth and went out into the downpour to fetch Joshua January's luggage.

She was beginning to wonder if she had made an enormous
mistake in hiring a private investigator, sight unseen. Furthermore, she had a
hunch it would be extraordinarily difficult to undo the error. Mr. January did
not appear to be someone who would take kindly to being fired.

In fact, Maggie decided as she opened the rear door of
the black car, Joshua January didn't look like the kind of man who did anything
he didn't want to do.

Rain thundered on the umbrella as she peered into the
dark interior of the vehicle. She groaned aloud when she saw the luggage
looming there. Apparently Mr. January didn't believe in travelling light, She
reached inside and lifted out one of the smaller cases. It was surprisingly
heavy and was constructed of metal. She scurried back to the front door of the
inn and set the case down in the hall. The Colonel appeared in the parlour doorway.
His eyes brightened when he saw the metal suitcase.

“Oh-ho, a computer, I see.”
The
Colonel nodded to himself, looking eminently pleased. “Our man is a high-tech
sort of investigator. Excellent. Excellent.”

Maggie glanced at the case and felt a wave of relief.