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

Jig’s big blocky head, smiling at the adoring gaze he sent her way. The idea of leaving him unprotected, even for a day, didn’t appeal to her. Yet the mysteries had to be solved, and the sooner she got to them the better.

“What about feeding Jig while we’re gone?” she asked.

“I’ve been putting food out for him to see if the training is working, and so far it is. He hasn’t touched anything left out for him. I could get Dave or someone more dog-friendly to come over, get Jig familiar with them and teach the person the command that will allow Jig to eat.”

Adie knew that Essen was the command Cage had been using. It meant Eat in German. She understood that if the command had been in English anyone trying to trick the dog could accidently give the correct command.

She smiled. “Dave isn’t particularly dog-friendly, is he? But he was as up in arms as everyone else when Jig got poisoned.”

“We can’t be tied to the farmhouse forever. Jig will have to be left. The sooner we have someone who can keep an eye on him while we’re away the better.”

“We could take him with us,” Adie suggested, even though she wasn’t sure how.

“He’s a guard dog, Adie. He has to be allowed to do his job,” Cage said with annoyance.

“You see him that way, but I see him as my pet. I don’t want him giving up his life to keep some bastard out of the house. I’d give everything away before I’d let Jig get hurt again,” she argued.

Cage sighed heavily, his expression suddenly tortured. “Do you think I want him to suffer any more than he has already?”

Adie’s guilt ate at her. “Of course not. I just don’t place things ahead of life.”

He reached across to take her hand. She was very close to bursting into tears yet again.

“I know. But it isn’t about things versus life; it’s about one man believing he has the right to take what he wants and do what he wants. You give in to people like that and they just keep coming, wanting more and more. I know you don’t think you deserve, or even need, everything Minerva has given you. And maybe you’re right. Maybe when the dust settles you can give most of what you have away to worthy charities. But you can’t give it away to that scumbag. Not for any reason!”

“Any reason? That’s…I’m not sure I go along with that extreme stand,” she muttered.

Cage stroked the back of her hand with his fingertips, as if enjoying the sensation. For all her physically demanding work schedule, her fingernails had begun to grow enough that she no longer missed the fake nails that had come off, one after another, over the last weeks. She couldn’t say her hands were beautiful, but they were certainly not ugly anymore.

“Bullies have to be stopped,” he whispered in his growly voice. “Do you think giving in to Hitler did any good? He just kept coming for more and more. And he’s not the last crazy who wanted world domination.

“I fought for my country because I believed that giving my life to keep the enemy from our doorstep was the only way. And maybe the War on Terror hasn’t gone to plan. Maybe we’ve become the bad guys to the rest of the world at times. But Islamic fanatics would destroy our way of life, if they got the chance. I know it. I’ve seen what they’ve done to their own people.”

Adie knew all about fanaticism. She’d dressed in drab, shapeless dresses and worn her hair in a granny bun for most of her life because her mother’s fanatical fundamentalist church told her that was the only way to get to heaven. She knew all about the bullies in that church who wanted more and more from her, until she could barely keep food on the table and a roof over their heads, all while she watched her mother die slowly and painfully because, supposedly, it was God’s Will.

“Okay. I get it. We don’t let the bastard get a penny. We don’t give an inch. Whatever it takes,” she agreed, lifting her chin and meeting Cage’s dark gaze.

“That’s my girl!” he said, sitting back as if satisfied with her answer. “Have you started reading Minerva’s journals for the period yet?”

“I don’t want to start there,” she said thoughtfully. “I think it’s better to find out what the police report says first, so that I know what to look for when I start into the journals. Even a brief mention of someone in the journal might have significance, if I have background on them from the report.”

“Then I’ll see who I can get to feed Jig while we’re gone, and then make an appointment to see this detective at New Scotland Yard the day after tomorrow. I have to admit, the idea of visiting Scotland Yard is appealing. Maybe I could buy a pipe and magnifying glass.”

The silliness had its desired affect and Adie laughed.

“It’s Elementary, my dear Donovan!” Adie said in her best fake English accent.

Cage laughed too. “Actually, Holmes never said that in any of Conan Doyle’s books.”

Adie batted her eyelashes in surprise at that. Not that she was much of a Sherlock Holmes fan. Mysteries—oddly enough, given her present situation—had never interested her.

“You’re a font of knowledge. No wonder you’re a PI. I assume you meant he never said Watson, right?”

“Yeah, not Donovan. And yeah, I’ve picked up a lot of trivia over the years. The guys in my unit used to compete with each other to come up with stuff like that. Like Captain Kirk never said, “Beam me up, Scotty!’”

That one meant nothing to her. Her expression must have given her away because Cage groaned.

“I forget you never watched