“I have a…request.”
At this, the old woman raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “Oh? Get on with it then.”
Charlie shot me a quick glance, almost as if asking for help, but I had no idea what was going on. All I could offer him was a shrug.
“It’s about my sister, Jasmine.”
Oh-kay, that was the last thing I expected. It explained why he was so tense, though. He could barely talk about Jasmine with me.
“She suffers from frequent seizures and doesn’t get out much,” Charlie went on, still tight as a bed spring, still stumbling over his words. “I told her a bit about Esmer and now she wants to meet her. And see your house.” A blush crept across his face. “I might’ve mentioned that you live in a really nice house.”
Aunt Dinah busied herself with the clasp of her umbrella. “That would be fine.”
Still he didn’t relax. “Really?”
“After all you’ve done for Esmeralda, it would hardly be fair for me to deny you the one thing you’ve asked in return.” The old woman whipped out her house key and approached the door, scowling. “Name the day.”
“Would tomorrow work?” The hopeful pinch in his voice had me smiling again.
“Yes, yes.” She pushed the door open and walked in without even a glance in our direction. “Now, come in before you catch your death.”
“Thank you.” Charlie dragged a hand down his face and flicked the excess water off to the side. Cracking a weary smile, he waved me onward.
Aunt Dinah headed straight for the sitting room after turning on the light in the foyer. “I can take you back to the precinct once you’re dry. I won’t have you leaking water all over my leather seats.”
Those seats were more cracked and weathered than my great aunt’s skin, but it was an excuse for Charlie to stay longer so I wasn’t going to point it out.
The old lady had a fire going in the fireplace a moment later. “Hot tea or coffee?”
I opened my mouth to reply but then realized she was probably talking to our guest.
“Coffee will be fine, thanks,” Charlie said, pausing where the hardwood ended and the carpet began. “Would you like me to take off my—?”
“Yes, please. I’m not overly fond of water stains.” Aunt Dinah brushed past us on her way to the kitchen. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Charlie hopped on one foot while unlacing the first sneaker.
“So Jasmine’s coming here,” I said, stepping out of the soaked slippers I was wearing.
“She had a hard death over the weekend.” A shoe dropped on the floor. He traded feet and got to work untying the other shoe. “Seemed to be the only thing that would cheer her up.”
I limped over to the couch, eased into it, and almost slipped right off. With a curse, I hooked an arm around the armrest to steady myself.
Charlie was smirking at me when I looked up.
“Don’t sit here,” was all I could think to say.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said, approaching the fireplace.
I tried not to be offended by that as I watched him extend his pale hands toward the warmth. “How come you didn’t get a ride here? Where’s your uncle?”
“He’s been going a little crazy, waiting for someone to respond to a BOLO he sent out a while back. He went hunting for more leads today to keep busy.”
“BOLO?” I asked when my questioning look went unnoticed.
Charlie finally looked away from the fire. “It stands for Be On the Lookout. It’s a description of a person of interest in a case or maybe the car they drive that’s sent out to all the precincts in the state. Policemen are supposed to contact us if they see anyone or any vehicle that matches the description.”
“Huh. So the case he’s working on is pretty much on hold until someone finds this person?”
“Or until he finds another suspect, yeah.” Charlie took off his cap and held it out to the fire. His head looked almost misshapen without it. “Detective shows glamorize it, but solving a murder case is more about filling out paperwork and waiting than chasing down suspicious characters and having shootouts in abandoned buildings.”
“Hey, so long as the bad guys are caught, right?”
Charlie somberly rotated his cap. “Sometimes the bad guys are never caught.”
I shivered.
“Another thing detective shows don’t mention,” he added with a wry smile.
“Have a lot of your uncle’s cases gone unsolved, even with you and Jasmine helping?”
“Not too many,” he said after thinking about it for a second. “But enough.”
Before I could say anything else, Aunt Dinah came marching into the sitting room. She’d taken off her raincoat and boots, and now carried a tray. Three mugs of steaming coffee, a bowl of sugar, a tiny pitcher of half-n-half, and some spoons were perfectly arranged along the tray’s surface. She would’ve been the epitome of British decorum if it weren’t for that permanent scowl on her face and the stiffness of her movements.
“Here you are,” she said, lowering the tray onto the coffee table.
Charlie put the cap back on his head before approaching the table, murmuring his thanks. My aunt prepared my coffee without asking me how I liked it. I didn’t realize that was what she was doing until she handed me the mug, otherwise I would’ve said something. Then she took her black coffee to her favorite armchair and sat primly to sip it.
Charlie and I shared an uncomfortable look before drinking our own coffee. Mine needed more sugar. I grimaced a little and forced myself to swallow. The warmth traveled down my throat, into my stomach, and seemed to spread to the rest of my body. So I kept drinking it. The wind howled outside. The rain beat relentlessly against the roof. The fire crackled and spat. More silence. I wished Aunt Dinah would leave. I knew Charlie would talk more if she wasn’t here. I frowned at her, hoping she’d get the hint and make herself scarce.
Of course
