Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3), Gemma Halliday [free ebooks romance novels txt] 📗

I nodded vigorously. "That's right."

"So who is the client?" he asked, crossing his arms over his oh-so-broad chest.

"Sorry. That would put us in violation of a gag order," I said immediately. "It's a very nasty case. But I'm sure we could come back with a subpoena if we have to."

He studied me for a few moments without speaking. I tried my best to look like a private investigator. I could do private investigator. I was the curious type, maybe even nosy, and kind of stubborn. I just hoped he wouldn't ask for a business card. We were in big trouble if he asked for a business card.

"Could I see a business card?" he asked.

I swallowed a sigh.

"They're in another purse," I told him. The one I hadn't bought yet.

"I'm out of cards," Irene said.

"I see." Not judging by his expression, he didn't. "How about the name of your firm?"

"The name of our firm," I repeated. I looked at Irene. "He wants to know the name of our firm."

"Not a problem," Irene said with an easy smile. I didn't know where she got it from. I couldn't have worked up a smile if my life depended on it. "We work for…Sherlock Holmes."

I blinked at her. Again.

"Sherlock Holmes." He rubbed a hand across his chin. I could imagine him committing the odd-sounding name to memory, or maybe recalling the number to the local police department so that he could report us the minute we left. Hard to tell whether or not he believed us, but my money was on not a chance.

"Tell you what," he said at last, just when I'd convinced myself that we'd be arrested for impersonating PIs. "You have Mr. Holmes send over his credentials," he continued, "and I'll release my preliminary report to him. Here, take my card. Deal?"

"I don't know if—" I began.

"Deal," Irene cut in. She stuffed the card into her pocket. "Consider it done. Thanks for your time. Sorry to keep you. We have to be going." She grabbed my arm.

"But I don't know if—"

"We have to be going," Irene repeated. "Let's not take up any more of the nice doctor's time. We'll get those credentials to you right away, Doc," she called over her shoulder.

He nodded once and vanished into the office.

I followed her out, thinking I might as well start preparing myself for the indictment that was sure to be on its way. The only occasion where I was likely to see Dr. Watson again was when he took the witness stand to testify against us.

SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE CASE OF THE BRASH BLONDE

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