Read Designer Detective (A Fiona Marlowe Mystery) for Free Online

read.” She’s quite a connoisseur of the genre.
    “No, it has to be one of the nephews.”
    “Why not a niece?”
    “Or a niece.” I
shrugged. “Jake the PI is running all that down.”
    “Is he married?” she said.
    Driving back to my condo, I thought about Hudson.
Maybe he did do it. I mean, fifty million mysteries can't be wrong, can they?
Maybe he was broke. Maybe he was ready to retire and needed the money. He'd
know Albert's medications. Surely, Albert would have provided for the loyal
butler in the will.
    I pulled into my parking space in the
underground garage. I loved having a sheltered space for the Legend. Then I
didn't have to try to find a parking place in a neighborhood that never had
any. As the elevator whirred up to the top floor, I envisioned a quiet evening
finishing the oil painting I had started of the marina basin near Alexandria in
the spring. Popcorn and a beer sounded good for dinner.
    The message machine blinked and chirped at me,
so I pressed the play and listened as I emptied the grocery sack. Six pack of
the latest microbrew, jar of popcorn, two cans of canned chopped clams, celery,
and carrots, two bottles of Tabasco, and a dozen eggs.
    The great carpenter said to call him back this
evening, he'd be home. Shirley at Colonial Furniture Gallery said to come
tomorrow around two P.M., she could help me. Dear Shirley, she was a hustler
and liked to push what made her the best commission. I'd have to watch her, but
she knew her stuff. Last message was from Jake. “Call me” was the message. He
was talkative this evening. No message from Hudson.
    I dialed Jake's cell phone. He picked up on the
first ring.
    “You were expecting my call,” I said.
    “Right. Have you seen Hudson?”
    “No, why would I have seen Hudson?”
    “You go out there, don't you?”
    “Sure, but not today.”
    “He seems to have left town.”
    “You mean as in disappear?”
    “That's right.”
    “I called earlier today and left a message for
him to call me, but had no call back.”
    “Opal hasn't seen him since he served dinner
last night. When she went down to the kitchen this morning, he wasn't there.
She checked the garage for his car, and it's gone. She thought he ran an errand,
but he still isn't back as of an hour ago. I thought maybe he was with you,
doing the library thing.”
    “Nope, haven't seen him. So it was the butler
in the library with an overdose.”
    “What?”
    “My friend Judith said it is always the butler
that commits the crime. So it couldn't have been Colonel Mustard. Hudson
murdered Albert with an overdose in the library.”
    “Fiona, you have a very active imagination.”
    “You're not the first person who's told me
that. Have you called the police to report Hudson missing?”
    “Not yet. We'll give him a day to show up. But it’s
very unlike him to disappear.”
    I hung up and stood looking out the windows
across the Potomac at the lights of D.C. The monuments stood stark white
against the black of night. Light reflected off the river. Red lights blinked from
atop the Iwo Jima Memorial.
    Hudson gone missing. Now
there was an interesting plot twist Olympia would like.

 
    * * * * *

    Shirley at Colonial Furniture was delighted to
see me on Sunday afternoon. She always saw dollar signs when I walked in. After
a tussle over a number of high priced offerings, I ordered two great off white
loveseats with a chicken wire bas relief pattern in the same color. I know, it
doesn’t sound haute coteur but trust me, it will look
great. Working a deal with Shirley is always exhausting, so I took the rest of
the day off.
    All afternoon I worried about Hudson and couldn't
resist a call to Jake that night.
“Find Hudson yet?”
    “Yes, he came back late last night. Opal said
he’d gone to his sister's again in West Virginia around Harper's Ferry. She’d
had a relapse. He forgot to tell Opal he was leaving. Or Opal forgot that he
told her he was leaving.”
    “Don't you think that’s