The Private Eye

she felt a cold blast of rain sweep into the hall through the open door. She grabbed an umbrella from the old-fashioned stand, gritted her teeth and went out into the downpour to fetch Joshua January's luggage.
    She was beginning to wonder if she had made an enormous mistake in hiring a private investigator, sight unseen. Furthermore, she had a hunch it would be extraordinarily difficult to undo the error. Mr. January did not appear to be someone who would take kindly to being fired.
    In fact, Maggie decided as she opened the rear door of the black car, Joshua January didn't look like the kind of man who did anything he didn't want to do.
    Rain thundered on the umbrella as she peered into the dark interior of the vehicle. She groaned aloud when she saw the luggage looming there. Apparently Mr. January didn't believe in travelling light, She reached inside and lifted out one of the smaller cases. It was surprisingly heavy and was constructed of metal. She scurried back to the front door of the inn and set the case down in the hall. The Colonel appeared in the parlour doorway. His eyes brightened when he saw the metal suitcase.
    “Oh-ho, a computer, I see.” The Colonel nodded to himself, looking eminently pleased. “Our man is a high-tech sort of investigator. Excellent. Excellent.”
    Maggie glanced at the case and felt a wave of relief.
    The computer was a very positive sign, she told herself. Perhaps Joshua January did know what he was doing, after all. “I've heard that most modem investigations are done with computers.”
    “I'm sure the old methods are still employed,” the Colonel said. “No substitute for fieldwork, I expect. But there's no doubt computers are the key to all the records that are maintained on people in this day and age.
    Yes, sir. Our man appears to know what he's doing.”
    Maggie wondered if the Colonel would still fed that way once he got a look at the crutches and bandages “our man” was currently sporting. She turned and dashed out into the rain for another suitcase.
    Five minutes later she had two suitcases, a garment bag and the computer all safely in the hall. She eyed the stairs with a silent sigh.
    “Need a hand with those, my dear?” the Colonel inquired gallantly.
    “No, thanks. They're light as a feather.” Maggie managed a bright, reassuring little smile. The Colonel, being the gentleman he was, was more or less obliged to make the offer, but they both knew his doctor had sternly forbidden him to put his bad back at risk. “I'll whisk them upstairs and be back down in a few minutes. Mr. January said he would be delighted to join us for dinner.”
    “Excellent.” The Colonel turned and sauntered back into the parlour.
    Maggie waited until he was out of sight and then she bent down to hoist the two suitcases. She staggered toward the stairs, wondering if the weight of one of the bags was caused by a very large gun of some sort.
    At the second-floor landing she paused to catch her breath and then took a fresh grip on the suitcases before plodding down the hall to 210. January had been right, she reflected. The third floor would have been a bit much.
    A moment later she set the suitcases down a second time and rapped sharply on the turret-room door.
    “Hang on. I'll be there in a minute,” January growled back.
    Maggie used the short wait to catch her breath. By the time the door was open a crack, she was no longer panting. But the sight of Joshua January wearing only a towel around his lean waist and the remains of some shaving cream on his face was enough to take her breath away all over again.
    “Oh, it's you.” Josh glanced at his luggage, reached down and hauled first one and then the other suitcase into the room.
    “I could have done that.” Maggie's mouth was suddenly dry and her pulse seemed to be pounding as hard as it had when she'd climbed the stairs with the suitcases. Then she noticed the huge dark, blotchy bruises on his ribs and shoulder. “Good heavens! It must have been a really miserable drive for you.”
    He followed her gaze, glancing down at his chest.
    “Bruises always look the worst a couple of day after the accident.”
    “Can I get you something?”
    “A shot of whiskey and a decent meal when I get downstairs will take care of everything. Where's my computer?”
    “In the hall. I'll bring it and the garment bag right up.” Maggie whirled and fled back down the corridor.
    The sight of January's broad, muscled shoulders gleaming in