The Private Eye

carefully down the carpeted stairs. There was a tantalizing aroma in the hall that indicated dinner was a real possibility. Things were looking up. He almost regretted the way he'd snapped and growled at poor little Ms. Maggie Gladstone.
    Then he reached the inn's front parlour, saw the rest of his clients waiting for him and changed his mind again.
    Maggie turned toward him at the sound of the crutches on the hardwood floor. She gave him a polite but extremely wary smile. “Oh, there you are, Mr. January. Allow me to introduce you. Mrs. Odessa Hawkins and Miss Shirley Smith.”
    “Ladies.” Josh inclined his head as he lowered himself cautiously into a chair. “Call me Josh.” The two bright-eyed women on the sofa twinkled at him.
    “We are ever so grateful you were able to accept our offer. Josh,” Odessa said with a gracious smile.
    “You can say that again,” Shirley declared. The rhinestones in her glasses flashed in the light as she examined the crutches and bandages. “What the heck happened to you, anyway? Have a shoot-out with some bad guys?”
    “I had an accident,” Josh answered smoothly.
    “Oh. Sorry about that.” Shirley looked disappointed. “Thought maybe it was bad guys.”
    Maggie took charge again, nodding at a patrician looking gentleman with a magnificent white moustache and ramrod posture. “And this is Colonel Amos Boone.”
    “Retired,” murmured the old soldier as he strode forward to shake Josh's hand. “U.S. Army. Everyone calls me the Colonel.”
    “I see.”
    “What sort of hand weapon do you favour, sir?” the Colonel asked with professional interest. “Automatic pistol or revolver? Always carried a Colt single action, myself. Back when I was on active duty, that is.”
    “I'm not particularly interested in guns,” Josh replied.
    Maggie frowned. “You mean you don't carry one?”
    “Not if I can avoid it. Which is most of the time, believe me.”
    The Colonel nodded wisely. “Martial-arts man, eh? Not surprised. You've got the look. Always could tell those martial-arts types.”
    Maggie's attractive mouth tightened as she gave the crutches a pointed glance. She smiled a little too sweetly. “Let's hope that's not his forte. Colonel. If it is, we're in trouble, aren't we? A martial-arts expert on crutches does not inspire confidence.”
    “Don't worry, Maggie,” Josh said very gently. “My crutches have been licensed as lethal weapons.”
    The Colonel cleared his throat and hastened to interrupt before Maggie could respond to the goad. “I say, sir, what can I get you to drink?”
    “Whiskey, if you've got it.” Josh glanced doubtfully at the liquor cabinet.
    “Certainly, we've got it.” The Colonel opened one of the doors on the cabinet and removed a bottle. “Good Tennessee sippin' whiskey. Just the thing on a night like this.” He splashed a modest amount into a glass and handed it to Josh with a flourish.
    “Thanks.” Josh took a swallow and enjoyed the heat all the way down. He caught Maggie studying him covertly. It was easy to read her thoughts. He smiled blandly at her. “The answer is no.”
    She blinked and Josh took some small satisfaction from the flash of surprise in her eyes.
    “I beg your pardon?” Maggie said.
    “I said the answer is no, I am not a lush. Hard drinking private eyes exist only in novels. Heavy drinking isn't conducive to clever sleuthing, and we real-life types have a living to make. I hope you're not too disappointed?”
    “Relieved is the word,” she answered dryly. “Discovering you had a drinking problem in addition to being accident-prone would have been somewhat discouraging under the circumstances.”
    “Yeah. I can sec that.” Josh leaned his head back against the cushion and deliberately narrowed his eyes with lazy menace as he watched her. He realized he was beginning to enjoy himself. He swirled the whiskey in his glass and said absolutely nothing until Maggie began to fidget uneasily. It didn't take long. The lady was out of her league when it came to wars of nerve. “Now, then, suppose you all tell me just what it is you want done in exchange for a month's free room and board?”
    Maggie straightened her shoulders and fixed him with a determined glare. “Now, see here, Mr. January. I have contracted for first-class professional investigative services. We expect an investigator who is fully capable of taking on the responsibilities of this job. Do you really believe you can handle this