The Private Eye

year,”
    Dwight nodded and tromped across the kitchen toward the door in the hall that opened to the basement steps. Maggie followed. She was unlocking the door when Josh appeared on the second-floor landing. He braced himself by putting both hands on the railing and looked over.
    “What's going on down there?” he called easily.
    Maggie looked up. “This is Dwight Wilcox, Josh. I told you about him. He takes care of things around here for us. He's going to service the furnace just to make certain it's running smoothly. Dwight, this is Josh January. He's staying here at the manor for a few weeks.”
    Dwight squinted up at Josh from beneath the peak of ids cap. '“Lo.”
    Josh nodded and started down the steps, limping only slightly. “I'll come down there with you, Wilcox. I know a thing or two about electric furnaces.”
    “That right?” Dwight looked skeptical.
    “Enough to figure out where to put the lubrication oil in,” Josh assured him blandly. “Besides, I need the break. I've been writing all morning.”
    “Josh is a writer,” Maggie said quickly, just in case Dwight had not gotten the point. Dwight was very helpful when it came to mechanical matters, but it was difficult to tell how much he was taking in when one spoke to him. His eyes always reflected a sort of wary bafflement, as if everything going on around him was almost too complicated to comprehend. The only things Dwight Wilcox seemed to feel really comfortable with were his tools.
    “Suit yourself.” Dwight went down the steps to the basement.
    Josh followed. “How's lunch coming?” he inquired as he went past Maggie.
    “Don't worry about it. You aren't in any danger of immediate starvation.”
    “Just making sure I get everything that's coming to me.”
    “You were only promised breakfast, tea and dinner,” she reminded him.
    “Yeah, but I figure the little extra work I'm doing on the side around here should be properly rewarded.”
    “What extra work?” Then a suspicion took hold. “Josh January,” Maggie hissed, “if you're implying I should reimburse you for your talents as a... a...” Words failed her.
    “Lover?” he supplied helpfully,
    “I can think of more descriptive words.”
    “Such as?”
    “Go on down those stairs before I decide to assist you,” Maggie growled.
    “Sure thing. By the way, I made reservations for us this evening at a place the Colonel recommended.” Josh grinned and went on down the steps. He held on to the handrail, taking the weight off his left foot as much as possible.
    Maggie stood in the doorway and watched both men for a while. Then she went back into the kitchen to finish the soup. She wondered why Josh had accompanied Dwight into the basement.

    AT SEVEN O'CLOCK that evening Josh and Maggie were shown to their seats in a cozy little restaurant perched on the cliffs above the sea. Maggie glanced around expectantly. It was Saturday night and the place was mingled with the clink of dishes and glassware. The delightful smell of freshly broiled salmon drifted over from a nearby table.
    As soon as their orders had been given to the waitress Josh leaned back with a satisfied look in his eyes.
    “It's a relief to get you out of that house, sweetheart. I hadn't realized until now what a dampening effect the Colonel and the others were having on our relationship. I have the feeling that if one of them catches me stepping over the line with you, I'm going to find myself facing a shotgun and a preacher.”
    Maggie knew she was blushing, but she tried to keep her tone light. “The Colonel and Odessa are a little old-fashioned. Shirley would be more tolerant, I imagine. Being a gangster's moll probably gives one a less rigid outlook on certain matters.”
    “Don't count on it. Shirley would be as tough on me as the other two.” Josh sipped his wine. His eyes gleamed.
    Maggie felt herself growing more flushed. She started fiddling with her salad fork, “Look, don't worry about it, okay? You're in no danger of a shotgun wedding just because of a little fooling around on a sofa last night.”
    “I wasn't fooling around, Maggie. I was very serious.”
    She frowned, not sure how to take that. It seemed safest to try another topic. “Josh, why did you go down into the basement to watch Dwight work this morning?”
    He grinned wickedly. “Do I make you nervous, Maggie? Is that why you're changing the subject?”
    “Yes. Now answer my question.”
    “Okay. You're the client.” He sat