The Private Eye

Shirley's feelings by refusing the gaudy necklace. “Thanks, Shirley.” She put the long string of rhinestones over her head. It hung to her waist. The rhinestones twinkled cheerfully as they fell across her breasts. Maggie glanced in the mirror and smiled. The tacky, glitzy look was rather appealing in its own way.
    “Have a good time, honey.” Shirley waved from the top of the stairs. “Seeing you off like this always makes me think of the days when Ricky took me to all the best places.”
    “Thanks for the loan of the necklace, Shirley.”
    Maggie heard voices in the parlor as she went down the stairs. When she caught Josh's soft, deep tones, she hurried quickly down the last few steps. She had wanted to be present to monitor things when he gave his cover story. She was learning that, left unsupervised, Josh was somewhat unpredictable. She moved into the parlor just as Josh and Clay were shaking hands.
    “Pleased to meet you, January,” Clay said. “I heard Maggie had someone staying here. Thought she'd closed the place for the winter season.”
    “A mutual friend prevailed on her to make an exception for me,” Josh explained easily. “I'm writing a book and 1 needed a quiet place to work. The friend suggested Peregrine Manor and talked Maggie into letting me come here for a month.” He turned his head as Maggie walked through the door. “Isn't that right, Maggie?”
    A writer. Of course. It was perfect. Why hadn't she thought of that? Maggie wondered. She smiled in relief and immediately felt more cheerful. Josh might be a pain in a certain part of the anatomy from time to time, but he really could be clever on occasion. Posing as a writer seeking solitude and inspiration was a wonderful explanation for his presence at the manor.
    “Yes, that's right,” Maggie added brightly. “A mutual friend of ours talked me into it. And since Josh doesn't care that we're doing some refurbishing around the manor, I decided to make the exception. Ready to go, Clay?”
    “You bet. You look lovely tonight, Maggie.” Clay smiled warmly at her and the smile was reflected in his pale blue eyes. He was an attractive man with an engaging, friendly air that stood him well in the real-estate business.
    Tonight Clay was dressed for dinner in an expensive wool jacket and slacks. There was a chunky gold ring set with a diamond on his hand and a thin gold watch on his wrist. His sandy brown hair had been moussed and blown-dry into a smooth style that made him look very sophisticated and urbane next to Josh.
    Somehow the contrast between the two men had the effect of making Josh look decidedly tough and dangerous. That was primarily because Josh hadn't yet changed for dinner, Maggie decided, feeling charitable.
    He was still wearing jeans, running shoes and a work shirt. His dark hair had probably never known the touch of mousse. Maggie wondered if he had deliberately come downstairs in his jeans and work shirt in order to make his cover story more realistic. He actually looked like a writer, she thought. Not that she had ever actually met one in person.
    “We really should be on our way.” Maggie smiled at Clay.
    “Don't worry, honey,” Clay said with a charming laugh. “This is Peregrine Point, not Seattle. We don't have to worry about losing our table at the Surf and Sand Restaurant.”
    “Yes, I know, but I'm really very hungry.” Maggie took his arm and urged him toward the door. She didn't want him hanging around asking questions, josh's cover story might not hold up if Clay got inquisitive.
    “Have a good time,” Josh murmured from the doorway. The words were polite, but Maggie thought there was something strange about his tone – something she couldn't put her finger on.
    “Thanks.” Maggie glanced back over her shoulder and was jolted by the laconic gleam in Josh's eyes. She frowned.
    “What time should we expect you home?” Josh asked. He propped one shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms.
    “Don't worry about it,” Maggie retorted with a cool smile. “I've got my own key. I own the place, remember?”
    “Oh, yeah. That's right.”
    Maggie was relieved when the door dosed firmly behind her and Clay.
    “How long has he been here?” Clay asked as he helped her into the front seat of his silver Mercedes.
    “Not long. A week.”
    “Seems to have made himself right at home.” Clay closed the car door and went around to the driver's side.
    “Who's your mutual friend? The one who