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

eye-searing purple kaftan with thick matching makeup. She looked like a burlesque performer who’d spent way too long in the sun.

“Miss Embers?” Cage asked, just to make sure we were in the right place.

“Yes, yes, that’s me!” the woman answered, waving her arms dramatically, in much the way Theo, my personal shopper, had done back in New York. “Call me Ruby!”

Her accent had the rounded vowels of the aristocracy, but Adie doubted she had come from such a background. Maybe working on the stage had given her that accent.

“This is Adeline Reynolds and I’m Cage Donovan. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right,” Cage said, pasting a smile on his too-handsome face.

The woman might be old, but she was far from dead. Cage had her fanning her face and simpering in no time flat.

“Of course, of course. Please, come in. Take a seat. I love, love, love visitors!”

Adeline looked about for somewhere to sit and discovered a small two-seater sofa against the wall. It was covered—you guessed it—in shiny, gold fabric.

Cautiously, Adie perched on the edge of the sofa and leaned forward onto her knees. Cage sat at her side, slinging his arm over the back of the gilded monstrosity.

“Do you remember a man called Michael Fredrickson?” Cage asked, all business, for all his casual body-language.

Ruby busied herself pouring green liquid into what looked like old-fashioned champagne glasses. The glasses sat on a small table beside her wheelchair. When they were filled she held one out to Adie and then another to Cage, all without asking if they wanted a drink.

“What is this?” Adie asked suspiciously.

“My afternoon delight, my dear. My afternoon delight! A mint julep just like they drank in the South before the Civil War. Being American, I thought you’d appreciate a little taste of home!”

Adie looked at Cage, who took a polite sip of his drink.

How did the old woman know ahead of time that Americans would be visiting her? Then she remembered Cage’s phone call. They’d probably alerted the woman to the fact she was about to get visitors.

Cage looked up after swallowing a token mouthful. “Thank you, ma’am, it’s great! Now, do you remember Michael Fredrickson? You would have been about eighteen when you knew him.”

Adie took a sip of her drink as well, just to be polite. It was very strong and she had to fight the cough as the fiery liquid made its way down her unsuspecting throat.

“It never rains but it pours, don’t you think?” Ruby declared with a shrill laugh. “I get no visitors for months, even years. Then, out of the blue, two sets of visitors arrive in the same week. Definitely pouring!”

Adie shot a glance at Cage, her heart sinking at the news. There could only be one other person they knew of who would be visiting Fredrickson’s alibi.

“What did Winsley want?” Cage asked, his voice as hard as granite.

False eyelashes fluttering as Embers tried to be coy. “Oh, you stole the suspense right out of the moment. Yes, it was a man called Robert Winsley who came to visit me. Asked about Mickey, just like you did.”

“Mickey? Do you mean Michael Fredrickson?” Cage demanded.

The flamboyant woman took another sip of her drink to build the suspense. Adie could tell she was enjoying being the center of attention. Every moment she could hold off from sharing what she knew, meant a moment more she’d be able to hold onto her unexpected guests.

“Whatever Winsley offered you, we’ll double it,” Adie said, trying to cut to the chase.

The woman was creepy. And though she felt sorry for anyone who was so alone, she didn’t like being held captive in this way.

The woman grinned maniacally, her red lipstick marking her obviously false teeth. “No need for that, dearie. If that fool of a man wanted to pay me to tell you the alibi I gave Mickey was legit, then who am I to argue with him? You could double what he paid, and I’d still say the same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated fashion.

Cage frowned. Adie found herself doing the same thing. What did this crazy woman mean?

“Winsley wanted you to lie and tell us Fredrickson, sorry Mickey, was with you that weekend? Winsley believed Mickey wasn’t with you?” Cage said, putting the pieces together.

“Exactly. He came here waving a hundred pounds in my face, saying I had to keep lying about that weekend. He said the police would arrest me for making a false report if I changed my story now. So I agreed and took his money. The thing is, I didn’t need to lie, did I? I remember that weekend well. Mickey was furious about something his ex-wife had done and it took me ages to calm him down. And then he got all, ‘I’ll show her what she’s missing. Let’s paint the town red!’ And we did. I’d never had a weekend like it before, and I never had one as good after it. I love, love, loved every minute!”

“But are you sure it was the last weekend in March?” Cage checked. “At his first interview Mickey was unsure he had an alibi. Then a few days later he turns up with one. And this was two months after his ex-wife went missing. It would be easy enough to get the weekends mixed up when he asked you to be his alibi.”

Embers nodded emphatically. “Oh, I know the weekend exactly. One of clubs we went to had the Locomotive playing. They were a band from Birmingham that were really starting to go somewhere. They had a different name like Something or other Seven… I’m not sure, but later they were the Locomotive. And that night they were playing at this club Mickey knew. He took me to it, and I