Book Excerpt From "A Fool and His Honey: An Aurora Teagarden Mystery"
Did we know she was coming?” he asked me in a low voice as we walked over to the house.
I shook my head.
“Did we know she’d had a baby?”
I shook my head again.
“Then Barby must not know it either,” he said. “She wouldn’t keep something like that to herself.”
I didn’t think so either. I further thought that Barby would just hate the idea of being a grandmother. I was willing to bet Regina knew that, too.
“So, we don’t know why she’s here?” Martin, used to commanding information and having everything lined up and organized, was deﬁnitely on the frustrated side.
“It’d be easier to tell you what I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know why she came or how long she’s staying. I don’t know where Craig is. I have no idea what your sister knows.” And though I didn’t say it out loud to spare Martin’s feelings, I was far from certain of the provenance of the baby.
Martin stood in the kitchen drinking a glass of tea while he mulled this over. “I’ve got to go back up there and speak to her again,” he said abruptly. “Get some of this settled. We still going to the Lowrys’?”
“I don’t think we can put it off. Regina seems all right about us going, and you know how touchy Catledge is.”
“Okay. I’ll just be a minute or two with her, then I’ll come in and shower.” Thunking his glass down on the counter, he marched out again into the gathering dark and dripping rain. His white hair gleamed through the darkness.
I went upstairs to ﬁnish getting ready. As I put on makeup and jewelry and pinned my hair out of my face with a pretty black-and-gold comb, I wondered if Martin would be able to winkle any more out of his niece than I had. Martin is far more likely to ask direct questions than I am.
But he didn’t look satisﬁed when he trudged up the stairs twenty minutes later. He looked tired and worried.
After giving me a quick kiss on the neck, Martin unzipped his pants and sat on the bed to untie his shoes.
“Hey, sailor, how about it?” I asked, in my best Mae West voice.
Martin ﬂashed me a smile. He glanced at the bedside clock. “Afraid we don’t have time,” he said regretfully. “I have to shower. Two people in the meeting smoked.”
Martin hates the smell of smoke clinging to his hair and clothes.
“You could have asked them not to,” I said mildly. Martin’s asking might as well be called telling: He was the boss.
“They’re going to retire at the new year,” he said. “If that weren’t the case, I would have kicked their asses out into the hall. As of January one, I’m going to make the entire plant a smoke-free zone.”