The Missing Party-Girl: A Rags-to-Riches Cozy Mystery Romance by Nhys Glover (read after .txt) 📗

She scowled. “Of course I’ve heard of them. I just never… you know, watched any of them.”

Cage rubbed his hands in mock relish, a devilish expression on his handsome face. “Okay, we’re beginning your education as soon as we get back from London. A Netflix subscription is our next purchase. We might even watch Elementary, which is a modern day take on Sherlock.”

Adie looked skyward. She could hardly wait!

Chapter 2

Adie stared at the curving glass that formed the entrance to the latest iteration of Scotland Yard. This one, which looked a lot like a five-star hotel from the exterior—if you ignored the rotating New Scotland Yard sign out front—sat across the road from the Thames, amidst the iconic landmarks of Westminster and the Victoria Embankment.

It had taken a little over three hours of train-travel to get them there, and Adie had actually enjoyed the journey, for all her worries for Jig left at home to guard the farmhouse. Sadie’s granddaughter Kristen had offered to come over morning and evening to check on the dog and feed him, and she was very impressed by how well trained he was about eating. Until he was given the order, ‘Essen’, Jig refused to accept any food that was offered to him, no matter how delicious.

“I can see Big Ben from here,” Adie exclaimed, doing a full circle as she admired her surroundings. “This feels like a vacation. For the first time all this… this whatever is happening to me… feels like a real vacation.”

“Think of it as a very sophisticated version of one of those Whodunit dinner parties people seem to love. Nothing but fun, fun, fun!” Cage said with a slight edge to his tone.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this fun. But I’m enjoying seeing more of England, I have to admit,” Adie replied, not sure if he was annoyed with her or Minerva right now.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” he grumbled.

Cage led the way up the stairs and into the glass atrium. Within minutes, they were riding an elevator up to the floor that housed Detective Chief Inspector Adams.

“Please come in,” DCI Adams said some minutes later, directing Adie and Cage into a glassed-in office.

Adie took the seat directly across from the detective’s, while Cage placed his chair at the corner of the desk, leaving barely enough room for the other man to squeeze past to get to his side of the unimposing desk.

Part of Adie had expected the office to be all wood paneling and old-fashioned, bulky furniture right out of the Victorian era. Instead, it was modern and utilitarian to the point of ugliness.

The Formica and metal desk, which occupied most of the glass enclosed space, was covered with neat piles of files, which was another surprise. She’d expected everything to be done electronically these days.

Adams took his seat and stayed quiet for several long moments. He was a very unremarkable man. If Adie had seen him walking down the street she wouldn’t have looked twice at him. Medium height, medium age, medium good looks, and medium build. Even his hair was an unremarkable salt-and-pepper brown, which had probably matched his unremarkable brown eyes once upon a time.

What was remarkable about the man in front of them was the intelligence shining out of those brown eyes. It was as if he could see far more than the average person. Maybe it was all that talk of Sherlock Holmes, but Adie had the distinct impression that Adams had already taken in her burgundy designer pantsuit, her carefully made-up face, her imperfect nails and her long, loose braid she had brought forward over one shoulder so it didn’t get caught between her back and the seat.

The detective leaned across the narrow desk and extended his hand to her. She leaned forward to take it, even though she felt decidedly uncomfortable doing it.

“I’m DCI Adams, and I assume you must be Adeline Reynolds,” he growled out, his accent broad but impossible to place. It certainly didn’t sound like the accent spoken around her new home.

His grip was warm, dry, and just the slightest bit rough, as if he wasn’t consigned to a desk 24/7.

“Yes, and this is my friend, Cage Donovan, a private investigator from the States.”

After a moment caught in his calculating gaze, Adie dropped his hand and looked away. She wasn’t good with meeting people at the best of times, and this didn’t feel like the best of times. Though she hadn’t done anything wrong, she felt as if she had. Some might call that a guilty conscience, but she had nothing to feel guilty about.

Did she?

Adams moved on to shake Cage’s hand, and this exchange was more perfunctory. Her friend was not given the visual third degree. Was this because he shared a similar career path to the detective or because she was the one who needed to be under the magnifying glass for some reason?

“My superintendent asked me to locate a cold case file for you, Miss Reynolds. I hope you know how unusual this is. We don’t normally give the public access to our files, even old ones like this,” he said sternly.

Adie suddenly realized why she was being treated like a criminal. Adams didn’t like nepotism. He’d probably dealt with the Old Boys Brigade on and off throughout his career. This was yet another example of it at work.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she stammered, her confidence evaporating. “It wasn’t my intention to break the rules. My aunt died recently, leaving me the bulk of her estate. She asked only one thing of me: that I try to find out what happened to certain people from her past. One of those people is Georgina Wyatt. As