Read Angel's Flight (A Mercy Allcutt Mystery) for Free Online

. er . . . expecting?” Mr. Easthope picked up Chloe’s hand, since she’d finally let his go, and pumped it heartily. “What happy news for you and Harvey. I’m so pleased for you both.”
          “But how did you figure it out?” I asked Ernie, irked by this display of uncanny knowingness on his part.
          “I’m a private investigator, remember?” He tapped his noggin. “I’m good at my job.”
          If there was one thing guaranteed to set my mother off, it was an audacious wink like the one he tipped at me then. She stood and said, “Well, really!”
          Ernie pretended to misunderstand her. “Oh, yes. It’s true. I can tell.” He tapped the side of his head once more. “I’ve got a sixth sense about this sort of thing.”
          Deciding I might as well go along with him, I said, “It’s true, Mother. Mr. Templeton has developed his detecting skills with vigor and discipline over the years.” The vigor part was true, anyway. “He’s really good at this investigative stuff.”
          “We will discuss this position of yours later, Mercedes Louise. It’s time Clovilla got home and rested. There’s been too much of the wild life lived around here. It’s a good thing I got here in time.”
          In time for what? I didn’t ask, having learned years earlier that it’s best not to question Mother when she was on her high horse—which was pretty much all the time.
          “Come along, Clovilla,” Mother said then, and turned a frowning countenance upon Ernie and Mr. Easthope. “Good day, gentlemen.” She was using the word loosely when it came to Ernie. I caught the nuance of sarcasm in the word. My mother is a mistress of nuance.
          “It was a great pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Allcutt,” said Mr. Easthope, bowing elegantly over the hand she’d held out to him.
          “Yeah,” said Ernie, grabbing the hand as Mr. Easthope let it go. I have a feeling he didn’t anticipate her extending it to him, so he usurped her prerogative. Clever devil, Ernie Templeton. “It’s been great meeting you.”
          Mother harrumphed and turned toward the door. Then she paused. It took a second, but both men caught on to what they were supposed to do. Mr. Easthope beat Ernie to the door, but I don’t think Ernie tried very hard. I know I wouldn’t have if I’d been treated to a display of Bostonian hauteur by my mother. Mr. Easthope bowed again as the ladies left, Mother first.
          “Come to dinner tonight, Francis,” Chloe whispered at Mr. Easthope as she passed him. “Please.” There was a definite note of desperation in the word.
          “Delighted,” said Mr. Easthope, lying manfully. He was a true friend.
          “Thank you, Francis.” Chloe cast a desperate glance at me over her shoulder.
          I gave back a thinnish smile and waved a couple of fingers at her, hoping the expression on my face conveyed only my compassion and none of the ecstasy I felt at not having to accompany our mother back home again. Home being a relative term in this instance, since when Honoria Allcutt enters through one’s front door, all of one’s usual comforts exit through the back. Or the windows or chimney or chinks in the plaster if the back door was locked.
          I sighed heavily when the door closed behind Chloe and Mother.
          “Clovilla?” said Ernie, grinning.
          “It’s not her fault. No more than Mercedes Louise is my fault. People slap these perfectly heinous names on innocent infants without their knowledge or approval.”
          Chuckling, Ernie said, “True, true.”
          “I must be off now,” said Mr. Easthope. “I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to help me out, Miss Allcutt.”
          “Happy to be of service,” I said, straining to regain a modicum of my general workday vim.
          Fortunately the door closed behind Mr.