“I think it would be wonderful if your new publisher was here in London. If you like, we can arrange for a secretary or personal assistant, even if you only need him or her for a day or two.”
Sage stopped and turned to Corinne. “If you could have the messages sent up with my breakfast and arrange for that tour of the museum while you get my room set up, that would be really helpful.”
Corinne grinned. “I would be happy to arrange all of that for you. Any idea how long you’d like to stay with us?”
“Let’s say a minimum of three months, then we’ll revisit it at two months.”
“Very good, Ms. Matthews.”
“Please, if I’m going to be staying here, can everybody just call me Sage? Felix has said it would be improper in the lobby, but at two in the morning, Ms. Matthews is awfully formal.”
“It would be my pleasure… Sage.”
Sage gave her arm a squeeze and headed back to her room, the very beginning of a revised plan for her future starting to take place. A prolonged stay in London would mean letting Charlie and others know so her car and home would be cared for in her absence.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. The words still didn’t want to come, but Sage took a shower, then dressed with an energy and lightness of heart she hadn’t had for a while. Her breakfast was brought up. She was slowly but surely making her way through the Savoy’s menu. She would have to figure a way to do something nice for Felix. He’d taken to ordering for her, and she was rather enjoying just removing cloches to see what he’d had prepared for her.
As she flipped through her messages, she spotted one from Felix, reminding her Gabe had asked to see her. She grabbed her phone and sent him a quick text, saying she would be available until nine-thirty, then would be out for several hours. His return message said he was on his way in and would see her in approximately thirty minutes.
She reviewed the things sent up from the front desk. The messages from Gail were growing progressively darker and more threatening. She dismissed them, congratulating herself on making the break from her former publisher. There was a message from Gail’s boss, asking that she contact him directly, but Sage decided to set that aside since she feared it might be awkward. In addition, she felt as though she owed it to herself to explore all of her options before making a decision.
Good as his words, Gabe knocked precisely thirty-three minutes later.
“You’re three minutes late,” she said, laughing as she opened the door.
He scowled, as did DSI Holmes.
“And you have been told not to open the door until you know who it is,” Gabe scolded.
“Yes, but I’m really not very good at doing what I’m told.”
“You’re going to have to get better,” Holmes added.
Sage was deciding she really didn’t like the detective from Scotland Yard. She decided she’d never mention him again in one of her manuscripts or better yet, let him get killed off after he didn’t take the threat to Roark’s latest heroine seriously. Wait… that would be a good idea. If his friend got killed, Roark would feel honor-bound to avenge him or at least solve the case, and Sage could write a heroine who would challenge him and that he could fall for. Maybe Corinne was right. She could give Roark a happily ever after, then do an annual novel with him and the love of his life as a kind of modern-day Nick and Nora Charles, the married detectives from the film noir series.
“Gabe, Felix didn’t tell me you were bringing DSI Grumpy Gus. You know, Holmes, I was just thinking I could use you as a great plot device and kill you off in a novel.”
Surprisingly, Holmes chuckled. “I’m happy to see you again as well, and at some point in the future, I’m going to rather enjoy seeing you brought to heel by the right man. But that’s neither here nor there. As we suspected, there was nothing particularly useful on either the contents of the envelope or the envelope itself. My friend in the lab did say he found some fiber evidence in the self-stick portion of the envelope flap. It looks to be cashmere. If we found the article of clothing it came from, we’d be able to match it, but only circumstantially, but he did say the manipulation of the image was fairly sophisticated, so we’re looking—”
“We?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I may not have enough to take to my superiors, but I find the image and how it was delivered—no one saw it delivered, and nothing was caught on video—disturbing, to say the least.”
“At the risk of having Gabe tsk-tsk me… I rode the tube home from the Tower yesterday evening. I stumbled and had it not been for one of the security people on the platform, I could have been injured.”
“Stumbled or shoved?” asked Holmes.
“Initially, I thought I felt someone push me. I was surprised at how crowded it was. But the security person said a local event had just let out and seemed certain I was just jostled.”
Gabe shook his head. “Sage, I told you to avoid the tube.”
“As I said, doing as I’m told is not my strong suit.”
Holmes leveled a look at her. “Perhaps a well-placed swat by a strong hand to your backside would help you to do better.”
“You do know, Holmes, that is completely inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate perhaps, but I suspect effective if done often enough.”
Sage rolled her eyes. “Well, we’ll never know, will we?” she challenged.
“I think we’ll find out a lot sooner than you think,” Holmes rejoined.
“Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m missing something?” Gabe looked back and forth between the two of them. “Had you two met before the other day?”
“Let’s just say, Ms.
