A Brush with Death: A Penny Brannigan Mystery - By Elizabeth J. Duncan Page 0,60
Victoria and I were planning to go. But I’ve been thinking about it—and I think you’ll find the next bit rather clever—originally, we were just going to go to the exhibit, but now I want to go to the opening, because I reckon if there’s anybody around from that time, they’ll be invited, and I want to know who they are and to talk to them.”
She gave him a sideways nod, with raised eyebrows.
“Well?”
When he leaned forward with a smile, she realized he had thought she was asking him to accompany her. She held up her hand and smiled.
“And no, I’m not asking you to go with me. Victoria and I are going, and we’re going to treat ourselves to a good time. We might even stay overnight, maybe at the Adelphi.”
He made a little gesture with a clenched fist. “Well, I am sorry I didn’t take you to Liverpool. I guess I just didn’t get it. Men are like that. You have to put the dots really close for us, so we can connect them. And that evening when I came round to you to try to sort all this out, I should have brought a peace offering. Flowers or chocolates. Sorry.”
Penny finally had to laugh.
“Enough with the apologies. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s move on.”
Davies paid the bill and they left the restaurant as dusk was falling. A grey gloom, heavy with the hint of damp autumn chill, was seeping through the streets. She tucked her arm in his, and they walked silently to his car.
“I’ll bring some boxes in the morning and we’ll make a start on the bedroom,” he said as he parked outside the cottage a few minutes later. “I’ll have to come early, say eightish, and I can only stay for a couple of hours.”
Penny nodded. “We can get a lot done in two hours. I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you.” She reached out to him, and he pulled her into him. He held her for a few minutes, and then let go.
“I love the way you smell,” she whispered. “Like a garden after the rain.”
He watched as she entered the cottage, and when the light came on in the sitting room, he drove off.
Sixteen
Penny awoke early the next morning, made herself a cup of coffee, which she set on a small tray, and headed back upstairs. She had barely been able to bring herself to set foot in Emma’s bedroom since the afternoon she had moved in. But soon, once the personal things were cleared out, the room would be ready to be decorated and she could move into it. She was starting to feel ready.
She set the little tray down on the heavy, old-fashioned mahogany dresser and then glanced at the closet, where most of the things to be bundled up for the jumble sale would be.
She opened the closet door to find a few church-type hats on the shelf, half a dozen shoe boxes stacked neatly on the floor, and a predictable collection of dresses, blouses, and skirts. She moved them idly along the rail and then stepped back as a faint odor of powdery lavender hit her. At the end of the row of clothes was a zippered garment bag. She undid the zipper and peered in.
It contained what looked like a man’s suit with a light-coloured dress or blouse tucked in behind it. She lifted the bag from the closet and laid it on the bed so she could examine it more closely. She pushed the edges of the bag back and then decided to take the suit out.
It was navy blue and, she thought, expensively tailored. She opened the jacket to see if there was a label. JACKSONS’ THE TAILORS.
But something about the suit seemed odd. She held it up against her and realized she would have a hard time fitting into it, and, in fact, it would probably be too small for her to even try. She’d never get the trousers done up!
The bedsprings creaked as she sat down beside the garment bag, tenderly holding the suit in her arms. It had to have belonged to Alys. She carefully removed the jacket from the hanger and, placing it on her lap, ran her hand gently over a sleeve, feeling the soft finish of the smooth fabric. She fingered the lapels and hesitated as her hand reached the pockets. She checked both of them and was disappointed to find them empty.