“No, I don’t mind one smidge, Chief,” I replied.
And within minutes, they were gone. Almost all of them. They had all filed through the office to wish best wishes to Althea, who accepted their wishes graciously, and from there they cycled out the door, each of the Elvises striking his best pose for me in the kitchen doorway before leaving. I couldn’t help but laugh and wish them well.
The only two left were Alex and Gordon. Mr. Lincoln hadn’t even bothered to remain behind. The two who had been deserted by the rest stood in the center of the living room, looking contrite, like two little boys held at detention, that were both missing the big touch football game in the street outside. They actually jumped for joy when I told them they could go. They were out the door in a flash.
Stepping into the office, I handed Mrs. Graves her tea. It was cold. I took a seat in one of the easy chairs and surveyed the chaos that lay all around me. It was significant.
“Honey, I’m afraid you’re going to have to hire a cleaning service to slop this place out,” Rosemary said, kneeling next to me and taking my hand. “Either that or open all the doors and windows and hose everything out.”
I squeezed her hand.
“Thanks, Rosemary.”
“Chloe, this was the worst baby shower I’ve ever attended. What’s wrong with you?” Althea proclaimed as I helped her to her feet.
“I’m just glad that abhorred man is gone,” Mrs. Graves said, rising from her seat.
“Thanks for the encouragement, girls.”
And with that, the last of my guests left. My home was a shambles. Thankfully, they closed the door quietly behind them. I was ready to scream. I was also glad to have them go and be left alone. Their departure left me sitting in my easy chair and wondering when and where it had all gone so wrong.
Blue crept out of the office, looking just as traumatized. I realized the cats must be hiding under the bed.
Chapter 9
As I sat amongst the debris that had once been my home, Alex was the first to return. He looked terrible and was barely able to stand let alone walk. This left me wondering how he had managed to stagger back from the pub. It also found me glad that the nearest pub was literally on the corner. He naturally arced toward the bedroom, but before he collapsed in bed, he stopped, leaning heavily on the door jamb.
“Chloe?”
“Yes, Alex?”
“I’ll always have your back, whatever you choose to do. You know that, don’t you?”
“Thank you. I know that now, Alex,” I said, although I hadn’t been sure about that until he’d uttered these words in a state of inebriation. My uncertainty had left me feeling cold inside.
“And about the working together thing?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to give it another go. This time I’ll be less of a prick than I was the first time. I’ll give you the automnomy… the automony… the freedom you need to do what makes you unique as a private investigator.”
“I appreciate that, Alex.” And I would, maybe tomorrow.
“And another thing.”
“Yes.”
“If you’d really like to have a child, I’m ready to talk about it.”
“Thank you.”
“But you should choose one: career or children. I don’t think you’ll be happy unless you give one hundred percent to whatever you’re doing. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you try to do both at the same time.”
“Thank you, Alex. I’ll surely consider that.”
“Good,” he concluded. “I have to go throw up now.”
“Alright. Do you need any help?”
“No, thank you. I think I can throw up on my own.”
Then he saluted and was gone. I was left to sit amongst the debris and listen to him being sick in the bathroom. I decided to clear a space on the kitchen counter so that I could make a cup of coffee. As I stood in the kitchen, waiting for my coffee to brew, I saw the postman slip the mail through the slot in the door. It fell amongst the tattered crepe paper decorations that littered the foyer. I walked over and picked it up.
One of the pieces of mail was a letter from a lawyer in Thorny Springs. I stepped back into the kitchen to retrieve my coffee and took a seat in the office to read the missive. It contained a letter written in longhand by Miss Cartwright.
Dear Ms. Boston,
I’m sending you this letter to thank you for setting my dear Thomas free. I’m sure that if he were able, he would send his thanks himself. Since he is not, I speak for the both of us in expressing our deepest gratitude for your prompt actions.
I know that you don’t believe that Thomas was the ghost of my late ancestor. I suppose that also means that you don’t believe I spent my life growing up with him. In any case, you did the right thing in setting an old woman’s mind at ease so she can pass freely into the hereafter.
I can feel the end drawing near. I must rest now and will write more in the morning.
The letter was accompanied by a type written sheet of paper containing the attorney’s letterhead. It read as follows.
Dear Ms. Boston
The letter enclosed was discovered on the end table of Miss Catherine Cartwright the morning that she was found dead in her bed, having passed away in her sleep the previous night. The letter is being forwarded to you on the advisement of Nurse Rachael Hailey.
I am writing you for two purposes. First, to forward Miss Cartwright’s letter along with my condolences. Second, to inform you that you were mentioned in Miss Cartwright’s Last Will and Testament. I warn you that the estate left behind by the good lady is substantial as is your share in it.
I regret that I am not free to write further on this important matter in this letter. Please contact me at your earliest possible convenience to discuss the disposition of your share of the inheritance.
Yours,
Franklin L. Desoto
Attorney at Law
I folded the letter and laid it aside. I took a sip from my coffee and, after some sad thoughts, forced myself to be happy for Miss Cartwright. In the end, she had gotten what she wanted more than anything else. What more could anyone want out of life?
That’s when the door flew open and the Chief and Jeffrey stumbled back into my duplex. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders helping to support one another as they staggered.
The Chief guided the two to the office where they stopped and stood unsteadily before my chair.
“Chloe, I’d like to have a word with you now, if you don’t mind,” the Chief announced, sounding astonishingly sober.
“Shoot.”
“Look, I know that it’s only been a week, but I need you back. Things just aren’t the same around the station without you. Jeffrey here has been working himself ragged trying to keep up with the work demands while we search for a replacement. In the meantime, I have a new case that I’d really like to get your opinion on.”
“So, now you want me back?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to carrying a gun?”
“Your call.”
“Am I coming back as a meter maid?”
“You can come back in any capacity you choose. I’ll support you all the way. And I’d have Gordon, that lardhead, here with me to apologize if I could find him. I didn’t know until today what he’d been saying.” The Chief turned red. “Look, just come back.”
I thought about it, but not too quickly because I was numb. I guess the Chief thought I’d thought about it too long. He mustered his sidekick’s assistance in persuading me.
“Go ahead, Jeffrey. Tell her what you told me on the way over here,” the Chief urged. “You’ll like this,” he assured me. “This is good.”
“Chloe, I think I’m going to be sick,” Jeffrey warned.
“Go ahead into the bathroom,” I told him. “I think that Alex is done in there.”
“I’ll be right back,” the Chief said before guiding Jeffrey to the lavatory.
Again, I
was left to sit alone in my chair and muddle through everything that was happening. I wasn’t even halfway through my muddling when my cell phone rang. I considered not answering but couldn’t stand not knowing who and what it was.
“Hello,” I said.
“Boston, this is Gordon. She’s gone into labor,” I heard a frantic voice announce.
“Wait. Slow down. Who’s gone into labor?”
“Althea, who else?” He was pardonably exasperated.
“But she isn’t due for another month.”
“I know, but we’re at the hospital now. They say that there are problems. They’re going to have to take the baby early.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is Aunt Dot there?”
“No, she and your mom are gone somewhere. And she’s calling for you.”
“Who?”
“Althea, who else?”
“She’s calling for me?”
“You are her birthing partner, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure. And besides, I was her natural child birthing partner, not her emergency C-section birthing partner.”
“Chloe, she needs you,” Gordon pleaded.
I thought about it for the moment. I heard Jeffrey being sick in my bathroom, and from the sounds of it he’d missed the toilet bowl. I decided that it might be best to abandon ship.
“Are you at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Hold on and I’ll be right there,” I announced.
“And Boston,” the voice called before I could hang up.
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
Closing my cell phone and slipping it into my pocket, I grabbed my meter maid coat, the one with the badges on the sleeves, on my way out the door.
About the Author
Melanie Jackson is the author of 23 novels. If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.
eBooks by Melanie Jackson:
The Chloe Boston Mystery Series:
Moving Violation
The Pumpkin Thief
Death in a Turkey Town
Murder on Parade
Cupid’s Revenge
Viva Lost Vegas
Death of a Dumb Bunny
Red, White and a Dog Named Blue
Haunted
The Butterscotch Jones Mystery Series
Due North
Big Bones
The Book of Dreams Series:
The First Book of Dreams: Metropolis
The Second Book of Dreams: Meridian
The Third Book of Dreams: Destiny
Club Valhalla
Devil of Bodmin Moor
Devil in a Red Coat
Halloween
Knave of Hearts
The Curiosity Shoppe (Sequel to A Curious Affair)
Nevermore: The Last Divine Book
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
eBooks by Melanie Jackson:
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
eBooks by Melanie Jackson:
Haunted Page 8
