Read The Howard Hughes Affair: A Toby Peters Mystery (Book Four) for Free Online Page A

danger. So I took a few chances and sounded a bit like Holmes. I amuse myself at it occasionally. Would you care for a cup of coffee or tea?” I said yes, and he guided me into a lounge with leather chairs where a couple in their early 30’s were whispering in the corner. The woman was hiding tears and the man pretending he had not seen us.
    Rathbone and I went to a table, and he disappeared for a few minutes to return with two cups, one with tea, and one with coffee.
    “You drink coffee normally,” he said, “but today you are quite willing to drink tea.”
    “How did you know?” I said, drinking the tea while he took the coffee.
    “Elementary My Dear.…”
    “Peters, Toby Peters.”
    “Peters,” said Rathbone. “You paid particular attention when Mr. Knox read our commercial for cold tablets, leading me to think that you had a cold or feared one. Then as we walked here it was quite evident that you held yourself a bit erect as if you had a tender back, possibly a cold in your lower back. If I may add, the condition of your clothes indicates that you are not particularly wealthy. Therefore, you need the money Hughes is paying you and probably have a fear of growing ill and not being able to collect it or do your job. Like most Americans, you equate tea with healing and believe it has some kind of medicinal effect. Therefore…”
    “Thanks for the tea,” I said. “Let’s talk about the Hughes party.”
    “Gladly,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Hughes is an odd creature and rather commanded me to show up at his party, which almost decided me not to go, but he called personally and said it had something to do with the war effort. I’ve been working particularly hard to get Americans to support the British effort. I know what the Germans can do. I was in the last war you know, and I have a rather vicious scar on my leg where the barbed wire caught to prove it. I also have the memory of my brother John, who died in that war, and my mother, who never recovered from the shock of John’s death and died soon after. Be patient with me Mr. Peters, I have a fondness for detail, but you’ll see it all has a point in the end.”
    I started to protest, and glanced at the couple arguing in the corner. Rathbone continued with his voice lowered.
    “I watched Von Richtoffen and Goering destroy one of our planes in a field in France one afternoon. I saw… well, never mind. I’ve had premonitions from time to time. Had one just before John died, and I have had one for the past week. My feeling is a particularly ominious one. Do you believe in premonitions, Mr. Peters?”
    I drank my tea, accepted a refill from Rathbone and shrugged.
    “I believe in what I feel and what happens,” I said. “I believe in right now, not yesterday. Yesterday’s memories are filled with regrets and tomorrow doesn’t look too good. Right now I’ve got a hot cup of tea in my hand. I’m doing a job I know, and I like it just fine. Premonitions are fine with me, Mr. Rathbone.”
    “Basil, please,” he said with a smile.
    “Basil. I have all I can do to handle facts and follow up ideas one at a time until they lead me somewhere or nowhere. What I do doesn’t take a lot of brains, as my ex-wife reminded me tonight, and it doesn’t take premonitions or deductions, just a lot of talk, some hard knocks and time.”
    Rathbone scratched the back of his neck and went for another cigarette. He smoked Dominos.
    “Well, Mr. Peters…”
    “Toby,” I said, evening up the first-name game.
    “Toby. I seem to have caught you on a difficult day. Would you prefer to continue our discussion tomorrow? I have rather a light schedule this week, though next week I start shooting another film.”
    I laughed, but it was a short laugh.
    “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll get professional again. Hughes thinks someone tried to steal plans for a couple of his planes at that dinner party. Did you see or hear anything that would support that belief? Any strange