Grand Passion

with her and so was a very large stranger.
    The newcomer was a mountain of a man with the endearingly homely face and sad eyes of a basset hound. He wore a loud green and orange plaid sport coat and a pair of brown polyester slacks. His tie was studded with red polka dots.
    “Are you mad at Cleo, Uncle Max? You look mad.” Sammy scampered over to Max's chair and gazed up at him with worried eyes.
    “Cleo and I were having a private discussion,” Max said. “It was a very serious talk.”
    Cleo raised her brows at the gruff reassurance in his voice. “Don't let him fool you, Sammy. He's mad at me.”
    Already satisfied by Max's response, Sammy giggled. “But not really, really mad, I bet.”
    “No.” Max scowled at Cleo. “Not really, really mad.”
    “He's right, Sammy,” the stranger said in a deep, rumbling voice that matched his size, “I've known Max for quite a while now, and I can say for sure that when Fortune's really, really mad, no one can even tell until it's too late.”
    Sammy looked at the man in the doorway. “So if he just looks mad, what does that mean?”
    “It means he's feeling a tad grumpy.” The man sauntered into the dining room. “Probably hasn't had his morning coffee.” He looked at Max. “Hi, Max.”
    “About time you got here, O'Reilly.” Max glanced briefly at the polka-dot tie his friend was wearing. “Where did you get that tie?”
    “Bought it from some guy who sells them off the back of a truck in an alley between Third and Fourth avenues in downtown Seattle,” O'Reilly said proudly. “Heck of a deal. I'll introduce you to him next time you're in town.”
    “Don't bother.”
    “We can't all afford to buy our clothes in Europe,” O'Reilly said easily.
    “I like O'Reilly's tie,” Sammy said. “It's nice. Mommy thinks so, too, don't you, Mommy?”
    Cleo was astonished to see the faint blush that warmed Sylvia's cheeks.
    “Stunning,” Sylvia murmured.
    O'Reilly grinned at her. The smile transformed his face. “I'm glad someone around here has good taste.” He turned back to Cleo. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm O'Reilly. Compton O'Reilly of O'Reilly Investigations.”
    “I'm pleased to meet you,” Cleo said politely.
    “Presumably Max has told you all about me. How brilliant I am. How resourceful and clever. How fearless, tireless, and tenacious, et cetera, et cetera.”
    Cleo smiled reluctantly. “Max said you were very good at what you do.”
    A strange twinge of fear went through her as she acknowledged the introduction to Compton O'Reilly. It loosed a flock of butterflies in her stomach and made her feel light-headed.
    The arrival of a private investigator brought home the reality of what was happening. Max was taking the recent troubling incidents very seriously. The realization that he was doing so made them suddenly all the more disturbing.
    “That's Max for you,” O'Reilly said. “Always the master of the understatement. When he says I'm good at what I do, he really means I'm terrific.”
    Max looked at Cleo. “Did I tell you how modest he was?”
    It was Sylvia who answered. “I think Mr. O'Reilly's modesty is self-evident.”
    O'Reilly grinned at her again. “Thank you, ma'am.”
    Sylvia turned slightly more pink. She looked at Sammy. “Why don't you come with me, dear? We'll see if we can find Mr. O'Reilly a cup of coffee in the kitchen.”
    “And some cookies,” Sammy said eagerly.
    “Now that's one of the better ideas I've heard today,” O'Reilly murmured. “I prefer chocolate chip, if you've got them.”
    Sammy clapped his hands in delight. “So do I.”
    “Great minds move in the same paths,” O'Reilly said. He looked pleased.
    “We'll be back in a few minutes,” Sylvia promised as she took Sammy's hand.
    O'Reilly watched the pair disappear through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Then he turned and gave Max a slow, perusing examination.
    “What the heck have you gotten yourself into out here, Max, old buddy? And what's this I hear about you being engaged?”
    “Rumors.” Cleo cleared her throat. “Rumors, innuendos, and lies.”
    “Is that right?” O'Reilly stuck his hands in his pants pockets and regarded her with a gravely interested expression. “Nothing to all those rumors, innuendos, and lies?”
    “Of course not.” Cleo ignored Max's annoyed gaze. “Max, here, hasn't even bothered to ask me to marry him, so how could there possibly be a real engagement?”
    O'Reilly nodded. “Good