Page 33 of Weeping Roses
She frowns, and I raise my eyes. “Okay?”
“I’ve had better.”
She cocks her head to one side and says with a cheeky grin. “Last night was hard to beat. I’m kind of still thinking about that.”
“You liked it.”
She nods and says impishly, “I should disobey you more often if that is my punishment.”
She doesn’t wait for an answer and glances down at her clothing with dismay.
“You know, I really should go home and grab some stuff. I’ve been in the same clothes for two days now and I could use a fresh set, not to mention my skincare, make-up and something to sleep in.”
“You can sleep in me.” I tease and her eyes widen and I detect the soft blush on her cheeks.
“Is that an order, Valentin?”
“Of course, and you wouldn’t want to disobey me, would you?”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Her gentle laugh carries on the breeze and is interrupted by her phone ringing.
“It’s Mr. Perkins.” Her eyes widen. “He must have some news.”
She answers it with her usual, “Polly speaking, how may I help you?” causing me to roll my eyes and chuckle softly.
“I see, um, great, yes.” She listens thoughtfully. “Can you email me the list? Super. And the keys?”
“Fantastic, I appreciate it.”
She cuts the call and her eyes shine as she says triumphantly.
“You were right. She had a gardener, Gregory Parker, a local man who lives in Lower Slaughter. Her housekeeper and handyman died with her in the explosion in Cornwall and Gregory is the only person left who was employed by her. There is a key holder, though.”
I still as I wait for information and she says breathlessly, “There’s a woman who lives next door called Samantha Burrows. Apparently, she kept a key for Veronica and acted as a guardian for the property when she was in London.”
“Then we should pay her a visit?”
She nods. “Now is as good a time as any.”
She grasps my hand, an act that surprises me but stirs that emotion creeping into my heart and says with excitement. “Let’s go and pay her a visit. God, I hope she’s in. This is so exciting.”
I shake my head and laugh to myself because if Polly thinks this is exciting, she really should get out more.
We make the short distance to the house next door, which takes us ten minutes. The properties in this area are impressive and Thorn House stands in acres of grounds that are a considerable distance from the neighboring ones. Carrington House is another fine property that is accessed through electric gates, and as we push for access, I find myself sharpening my edges to deal with a potential witness.
“Let me handle this, Valentin.” Polly says firmly, and I glance at her with amusement.
“Why?”
“Because you’re quite intimidating and Mrs. Burrows may be a sweet little old lady who is scared of visitors.”
Before I can answer, a voice comes through the intercom.
“Who is it?”
Polly replies, “Um, Polly Scott-Stanley and um, Valentin Romanov. Your new neighbors after my aunt’s sad demise.”