Read The Nightingale Before Christmas for Free Online Page B

explosion of colors and prints that she stuffed into her room, I didn’t think the shapeless brown and gray garments she wore were a good alternative.
    Not my problem, I reminded myself, and put on my helpful face to see what they wanted from me.
    Luckily, Our Lady of Chintz didn’t object to the location of the Christmas tree, as long as she was allowed to decorate the bits visible in her room to match her design scheme. I gave her my blessing.
    Tomás handed me a note from Eustace saying that effective immediately, Tomás and Mateo were on Randall’s payroll, and unless I had any objection he’d have them get started repairing the wall Clay had destroyed.
    â€œ Sí, ” I said to Tomás. “ Gracias .”
    He flashed me a quick smile and hurried back to the master bedroom.
    Princess Violet had lost her key to the house. Again. I’d deduced as much when I saw her holding her frilly pink purse.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” she said. “I could have sworn I left it on the dresser in my room.”
    â€œWhy don’t you just keep it on your key ring?” I asked. I was already headed downstairs to the locked cabinet in the coat closet that served as my on-site desk. I’d learned to keep a few spare keys there.
    â€œI have one on my key ring,” she said. “My main key ring. But I can’t find that today. I’m using my spare key ring. And it’s really a nuisance, because the car key I have on my spare key ring is a valet key that doesn’t open my trunk and—”
    â€œHere you are.” I handed her a key. “Twenty dollars deposit.”
    She continued babbling about her key rings—apparently she had three or four, each containing a slightly different assortment of keys. I waited until she’d rummaged around in her purse and found two fives and a ten—none of them in her wallet. I wrote out a receipt, handed her the top copy, and put the money and the carbon in my locked cash box.
    Randall Shiffley strolled in while I was completing this transaction.
    â€œI’m soooo sorry,” Violet said, as she tucked the key into her purse. “I’ll try to hang on to this one.”
    She scurried back upstairs.
    â€œCan you get a few more keys made?” I asked Randall.
    â€œ More keys? We must have enough keys floating around for half the town to have one.”
    â€œI suspect we could find most of them if we searched Violet’s house, her car, and her purse,” I said. “Let’s just make sure the place is rekeyed as soon as the show house closes.”
    â€œAlready on my punch list.”
    That was one of the things I liked about Randall. His punch list was the equivalent of my notebook, and I knew that anything on it was going to get done, and on time.
    â€œThe bank had a lot of problems with squatters and vandals before we started working here,” he went on, “so they’re pretty hyper about security. Speaking of vandals, is Clay still here?”
    â€œI chased him out.”
    â€œSorry, Stanley,” Randall called. “Not here.”
    I turned to see Stanley Denton, Caerphilly’s leading (and only) private investigator, standing in the foyer.
    â€œI’ll check on that damaged wall,” Randall said as he headed upstairs.
    â€œHey, Stanley,” I said. “What do you need Clay for?”
    â€œGot some papers to serve on him.”
    â€œI didn’t know you did process serving,” I said.
    â€œNot my favorite kind of work,” he said. “But it pays the bills.”
    â€œWhat’s Clay getting served for, or are you allowed to say?”
    â€œNo big secret,” he said. “Clay and one of his former clients are suing and countersuing and filing charges against each other like crazy. Almost a full-time job lately, serving papers on the two of them. She says he didn’t finish her house and what he did was all wrong; he says she