What Now My Love

Jaye Watson

Description

In an ongoing effort to help Harry find his way out of depression, Emaline enlists his help to clean out her grandfather's attic. Among the surprises is an old shoebox holding letters to a great-aunt who was known for her distrust of men. What she discovers in the letters arouses a terrible suspicion, and Harry agrees to use his police connections to find answers that will prove them false. They hope.

Sujets

• Love
• Love (disambiguation)

Informations

• Publié par: Uncial Press
• Date de parution: 18 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781601741868
• Langue: English

Extrait

Emaline Banister Mystery #5
What Now My Love...
A Mystery NovelByte
 
By
Jaye Watson
 
 
Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon 2014
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products ofthe author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Anyresemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirelycoincidental.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-186-8
What Now My Love... Copyright © 2014 by Judith B. Glad
Cover art and design Copyright © 2014 by Judith B. Glad Cookie © BertFolsom - Fotolia.com
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work inwhole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafterinvented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by theFBI and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Published by Uncial Press, an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
What Now My Love...
"Couldn't you think of something better to do on a sunny Saturday in May than clean outthe attic?"
Emaline shook her head as she stepped aside to let Harry Jordan enter. "It's not just today.I've been working on this all winter, in my off hours. Besides, I did invite you to dinner." She led theway up the stairs to the second floor. "Putting in a couple of hours playing stevedore is theprice."
"Yeah, yeah. I know about these projects." His voice went high and sing-song. "'Just a littlechore. Won't take more than a few minutes.' That's what Sandy used to say. None of her projectswere ever that simple."
She turned to look at him. "Sandy? Your ex?" Harry's ex-wife had died last year, and he wasstill mourning her as though they'd still been married. He'd never spoken of her unless asked.
"Yeah." His grin was a little crooked. "I didn't mean to compare—"
"No, it's just that I could almost hear Grandad saying the same thing about Gran." A shiverwent up her spine, and she did her best to ignore it. "Tell you what. You help me without whiningand I'll feed you fresh-baked bread for dinner."
"Fresh-baked bread? You made bread?" His eyes gleamed. If she didn't know better, she'dhave thought he was about to drool.
"My second attempt. The first one was edible, but only barely. This one should be a lotbetter." Edging between an old treadle sewing machine in an oak cabinet and a teetering pile ofboxes, she paused to make sure the teeter didn't turn into a crash. When the boxes steadied, sheraised the dusty roller shades on the dormer windows and let the sun shine in.
Sort of. "Hand me the Windex, will you. And a couple of those newspapers?"
As she sprayed and wiped, removing the accumulated grime of decades, Harry lifted thetop box from the stack that had almost fallen. "Didn't your family ever throw anything away?" Heopened the flaps and peered inside. "Good grief. This newspaper's dated March 12, 1953." He blew,and a cloud of dust arose.
"Don't do that. Use the vacuum."
"Okay." But he was perusing the headlines. "I'll be damned."
"What?"
"Did you know the Air Force dropped an A-bomb in South Carolina on March 11,1953?"
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. It didn't go off, though." He laid the newspaper aside and began rooting in thebox.
"For which I'm sure South Carolinians are eternally grateful." After some effort, shemanaged to raise both lower sashes. The fresh breeze that came in scattered the dust Harry hadstirred up and replaced the musty air in the attic.
He came to stand behind her. "Great view."
It was. Although most of the lots here on Mount Tabor were wooded, the one directlybehind this one had been cleared when an old Craftsman house had been replaced with somethingthat looked like a stack of shipping crates. She'd mourned the loss of afternoon shade in the backyard, but from up here, the lack of mature trees in that lot gave a view clear across the valley. On aclear winter day when the east wind blew away all traces of smog, she'd bet the Coast Range wouldbe visible.