The Missing Party-Girl: A Rags-to-Riches Cozy Mystery Romance, Nhys Glover [best inspirational books .txt] 📗

building. The Victorian gaslight fixtures and dark polished wood gave the room a slightly sinister feel, though, like something out of Conan Doyle or Agatha Christie mystery. Or maybe that was just her worries about possibly coming face-to-face with a murderer.

Cage scanned the bar as soon as they entered, giving Adie a nod when he spotted their target. Roland Hughes sat with a much younger man at a wooden table by the front window. Both men looked their way as Adie and Cage strode resolutely across the crowded space towards them. Quiet classical music played in the background, blending perfectly with the quiet voices. There was no loud 80s rock here, or people yelling to make themselves heard over the music. The place was all about sophistication and class.

The two men rose as Adie approached. Roland—because he had to be Roland, given his aged, plump body and bald head—looked her over with an appreciative gaze.

“You must be Minerva Reynolds’ niece. How wonderful to meet you, my dear,” he said, taking Adie’s hand.

His skin was paper thin and slightly damp. “I am Roland Hughes and this is my assistant, Laurence Ford. Please, sit. I am dying to discover what Minerva might have said about me that brought you out to meet an old man like me.”

Adie gave him a polite smile. “I’m Adie Reynolds and this is my associate, Cage Donovan. He’s helping me sort out Aunt Minerva’s bequeathments.”

The men exchanged handshakes as Adie sat in the chair directly across from Roland.

The waiter came over to take their orders before quickly disappearing.

Getting right to the point, Adie said, “I’m reading my aunt’s journals. She kept them all her adult life. Right now, I’m reading 1965. That’s where I came across your name. You were dating her flatmate, Georgie Wyatt.”

Roland’s eyes opened wide for a moment, before they took on a faraway expression, as if he was remembering the past. Fondly, she thought.

“Georgie! Now there was a stunner. Flaming red hair and a curvy shape not unlike your own. Women back then liked to look like women, not skeletons.”

He nodded in Cage’s directly, expecting to get a nod of agreement from him. It surprised her when Cage did just that. Maybe he was just playing a role again.

Roland went on in his very cut-glass accent that spoke of nobility not just a grammar school education. “I’m rather honored to know Georgie spoke of me. To be honest, she was way out of my league. I did everything short of buying her an island to win her over.”

Adie smiled politely again. “She spoke well of you, I can assure you. When did you last see Georgie, do you remember?”

Roland looked up at the ceiling, which was a long way above them. “Let me see. It was before she was killed by that mobster, that’s for certain. Mid March of ’65, I think. I was supposed to see her at the very end of March, but she never made it. The mobster you know. Terrible end for someone as wonderful as Georgie. Terrible.”

His expression matched his words, shaking Adie’s belief in his culpability.

“You think she was killed by a mobster?” Adie asked, her spine stiffening.

Could he mean Owen Jeffers? He was the only one she knew about who had mob connections.

“Well, I assume that’s what happened. You see, she rang me that Saturday morning, beside herself with worry. The night before, Friday night that would be, her boss tried to force his attentions on her. When she slapped him, he told her she was fired.

“Georgie had a bit of a temper. I suppose it came from being a redhead. She said she slapped him again. At which point the bastard told her she’d be sorry. He reminded her of his mob connections and how easy it would be to make her disappear forever.

“’No one disrespects … whatever his name was, and gets away with it. Or so he told her.

He frowned a little uncertainly, his gaze turning up to the ornate ceiling once more. “I think I remember that part correctly. I was somewhat worse for wear when she rang, as we’d had rather a late night of it. But, yes, I am sure that was how she phrased it.

“She was running scared when she rang me, pleading for me to let her come out to my house. To hide out for a while. I was having a house-party again that weekend, hence the late night Friday. I was occupied with my guests, as well as being a little under the weather. But I do remember how desperate she sounded. I took pity on her, invited her to stay the rest of the weekend, and suggested she could then come with me to the Continent the following week.

Adie exchanged surprised looks with Cage as Roland went on.

“I suggested she lay low for the rest of the day and take a train out to Lewes once it got dark. All the better to cover her tracks, so to speak. It felt rather like a spy film or the Godfather. I don’t think I took her too seriously. Really, who would think someone would really murder a woman for knocking you back? If that were the case, I would likely have been bankrupted paying off all the hit-men I’d need for the women who told me no.”

He chuckled, a little licentiously, his assistant echoing him politely.

His gaze fell on Adie. “It is always about playing the odds, don’t you know. The more often you proposition women, the more often you succeed. And fail. But you certainly succeed more than you would if you never tried it on at all.”

Adie would have to ask Cage if that attitude was common among men. It certainly seemed to support Jeffers’ perspective. No woman was that important. You tried it on. If you