The Private Eye

extremely dangerous about the expression in his cold, grey eyes.
    But it was a safe bet that no real private investigator would show up for a case looking like the walking wounded.
    “Do you mind if I come in?” the stranger growled in a low, raspy voice. He sounded as if he'd endured a number of hardships recently and was getting fed up with practicing the virtues of tolerance and patience.
    “It's damn wet out here.”
    “Yes, of course. Come on inside and dry off.” Maggie stepped back quickly. “But I'm afraid you can't stay.
    We aren't taking visitors until after the first of the year.
    Maybe not until spring. We're, uh, refurbishing. You didn't have a reservation, by any chance, did you? I thought I notified all the confirmed reservations. Who are you?”
    “January.”
    “Yes, that's what I said. We hope to be open again in January. It all depends, you see. Now, if you do have a reservation and you weren't notified that Peregrine Manor has had to close for a while, I'm very sorry. I can probably get you a room for the night at one of the other bed-and-breakfast places in town. No one is full at this time of year except on the weekends.”
    The man moved into the hall, managing the crutches skillfully but with obvious annoyance. “I said, I'm January. Joshua January.” He quirked one black brow. “I believe you sent for me.”
    Maggie's mouth fell open in shock. “You're January?
    The private investigator from Business Intelligence and Security, Inc.?”
    “Right.” He transferred both crutches into his left hand and ran his right hand through his dark hair.
    Raindrops splattered the worn Oriental rug on the floor. “Now, if I could have some help with my luggage, I'd appreciate it. It's a little tough to manage suitcases when you're on these things.” He indicated the crutches.
    “But, Mr. January – ”
    “Call me Josh.” He shot an impatient glance around the small lobby. “Where's your bellboy?”
    “We don't have one anymore. Look, Mr. January, there must be some mistake.”
    “No mistake.” Balancing precariously on the crutches, he fished a familiar-looking sheet of paper out of his front pocket. “This is Peregrine Manor, isn't it?”
    “Well, yes, but – ”
    He opened the sheet of paper and started to read aloud in a grim monotone. “'In exchange for professional investigative services, I am prepared to offer a month's lodging at one of the most charming bed-and-breakfast inns in the Northwest. Peregrine Manor is a truly fine example of delightful Victorian architecture, offering unique and distinctive rooms furnished in period style.'”
    “Yes, but – ”
    “'At the manor,'” Josh continued in a relentless tone, “'you'll be able to relax and enjoy the splendours of the Washington coast in winter, a very special time of year here. You'll awaken each morning to a hearty, home-cooked breakfast and in the afternoons you'll be served tea and scones.'”
    “Please, Mr. January – ”
    “ 'In the evenings we encourage you to enjoy conversation and sherry with the other residents of the manor before proceeding on to dinner in our gourmet restaurant. After dinner you'll be treated to cosy evenings by the fireside. Come join us at Peregrine Manor and indulge yourself in the tranquil environment of this lovely, unspoiled – '”
    “All right, Mr. January. That is quite enough, thank you. I recognize my own words.”
    He looked up and for the first time Maggie realized how cold his eyes really were. They were a chilling, icy shade of grey that reflected no warmth and even less patience. Joshua January had been well named.
    “Good. So much for that.” Josh refolded the letter and stuck it back into his front pocket. “You, I take it, are Ms. Margaret Gladstone?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “Fine. I'm the licensed investigator you hired. I think that settles the matter. Right place, right people, so let's get on with it. I'd like the key to my room, if you don't mind.”
    Maggie stared at him. “But you… you're…” She waved a hand in a small, embarrassed gesture that indicated his crutches and bandages. “You're not quite what we had in mind, Mr. January. I'm very sorry about your obvious difficulties, and I mean no offense, but we feel we need a man of action – if you know what I mean. We have a problem here at Peregrine Manor and we need an investigator who is in good physical condition.”
    His mouth curved briefly in a humourless smile.
    “Good physical