Dream Eyes

bird-of-prey eyes.
    “Hello, Gwen,” he said.
    “Judson. Nice to see you again.” She managed a bright, welcoming smile. “You made good time. This is Trisha Montgomery. She owns the inn.”
    “Welcome to the Riverside Inn,” Trisha said, smiling warmly.
    “Thanks,” Judson said.
    “I understand you’ll be staying with us for a few days while you help Gwen settle Evelyn Ballinger’s affairs,” Trish continued.
    Gwen knew a rush of panic. She had not had time to brief Judson on the cover story she had concocted.
    Judson looked at Gwen, utterly unfazed, his brows elevated ever so slightly. “That’s right.”
    Gwen breathed a sigh of relief and flashed him an approving smile. He had handled the situation very smoothly. As well he should, she thought. He was a security consultant, after all.
    Trisha got to her feet and took her computer bag off the back of the chair. She hitched the strap of the bag over one shoulder. “If you two will excuse me, I need to have a chat with my cook. Please let me know if I or anyone else on the staff can help in any way.”
    “We’ll do that,” Judson said.
    Trisha went briskly toward the kitchen. Judson lowered himself into the chair across from Gwen. He set the leather bag on the floor near his feet.
    “So, we’re here to settle Ballinger’s affairs?” he said, speaking in very neutral tones. “That’s our story?”
    “Well, it’s not like I can announce that we’re conducting a possible murder investigation, now, is it?” Gwen said. She spoke crisply, authoritatively. It did not require psychic intuition to know that with a man like this a woman had to take charge right at the outset and stay in charge. Guys like Judson Coppersmith were far too accustomed to giving the orders.
    “Probably best not to bring up the word
murder
yet,” Judson agreed. “You’d be amazed how that subject tends to upset people.”
    “I realize we can’t discuss it in public. The room I booked for you is next to mine on the third floor. There’s a connecting door so we can talk privately without being seen coming and going from each other’s rooms.”
    “Wow,” he said, his voice still perfectly neutral. “Connecting doors.”
    She was starting to get flustered. “The inn is a little more expensive than either of the two motels in town, but it’s actually a good bargain when you consider that we get breakfast and afternoon tea.”
    “Afternoon tea?” Judson repeated thoughtfully. “Will there be scones and clotted cream?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll be picking up your expenses, of course.”
    Something that looked suspiciously like amusement came and went in his eyes. “I’ll keep track and make sure you get a detailed accounting when I send you my bill.”
    No doubt about it, he was laughing at her.
    “I realize that you consider this case very low-rent compared to the jobs you’re accustomed to handling for some no-name government intelligence agency. But Abby assured me that due to some unfortunate circumstances on your last mission, you are currently without a client and that you would give this investigation your full attention.”
    Judson’s smile was slow and dangerous. “Rest assured you have my full attention, Gwen Frazier.”
    A middle-aged woman in a white pinafore apron appeared at the table. Her nametag read
Paula
. She handed Judson a menu and beetled her brows in a severe manner.
    “It’s almost four o’clock,” she warned. “Tearoom closes at four. We’re out of sandwiches and cakes. I think I’ve got a couple of scones left, but that’s it.”
    “Just coffee, please,” Judson said.
    “Huh.” Paula was obviously disappointed that Judson was not going to argue about the closing time, but she recovered quickly. “Cream and sugar?”
    “Black,” Judson said.
    Naturally, Gwen thought. How else would a man like Judson Coppersmith take his coffee?
    Paula eyed Gwen. “More green tea?”
    “Please,” Gwen said.
    “Heard you’ve got Evelyn Ballinger’s cat upstairs in your room,” Paula said.
    “That’s right,” Gwen said.
    “Gonna take it to the pound?”
    “No, I’ll probably haul Max back to Seattle with me.” Gwen paused. “Unless you know someone who might like a nice cat?”
    “Nope. Got too many cats around here already. Folks from Portland are always driving up here to dump their unwanted cats and dogs on the side of the road. Besides, according to Sara, the housekeeper, Evelyn’s cat isn’t a nice cat.