Secrets, stolen jewels, and an accusation of robbery threaten to tear Maisie and Sidney apart and end her perfect Cornish escape for good in Book Four of the series, available January 15th!
Special Excerpt from The Cornish Secret of Summer's Promise:
By morning, the forensics team had offered rushed reports on the fingerprints discovered on the device used to jam the security signals — inconclusive ones, it appeared — and Detective Anson had requested to speak with the Hollywood representative Blane again, as well as Riley.
"Why me? Why am I always the one persecuted?" Riley asked. "'Work in a hotel is safe,' everyone told me. 'It'll keep you out of trouble, young Riley, and on the narrow path o' life.' What do they have to say now — me reputation being sold down the river by a cup of coffee?"
"You have no reputation to salvage, Riley," said Brigette. Her highlighter was making marks across a sheet of names — more work for the detective, which had brought a cheerier smile to Brigette's face than we had seen in weeks.
"Except that of being a lazy git," volunteered Katy, as she blew on a fresh coat of paint applied to her nails. One look from Brigette had her putting the bottle discreetly out of sight again, though not with the same guilt as before, when the concierge had been mostly in charge. Influence lost — Brigette's attitude wilted slightly in response.
Riley didn't take a step in the direction of the parlor, because a PC entered the hotel quickly. "Where's Anson, the detective from the insurance company?" he asked.
"Through the right passageway, third door to your right in the hall," instructed Brigette.
"Thanks." He hurried on without saying anything else. We stared after him, feeling curious.
"What do you suppose he wants?" Katy asked.
"Maybe to arrest one of us," speculated Riley, gloomily. "You and I, Maisie. Marked as troublemakers first, now as criminals."
"Stop being so dramatic," said Brigette.
The PC emerged a few minutes later and left. The detective followed shortly, putting on his hat and coat as he entered the foyer. "I won't be troubling you this afternoon, Mr. Bloom," he said. "Something's come up regarding the case, so you may make yourself free and easy for the time being."
"What would that be?" Katy asked, before Brigette could shush her.
"An arrest," he said. "The local constabulary followed a lead and apprehended a suspect in possession of evidence connected to the case. I'm off to confirm for myself that it is indeed linked to the Vancy Auction House robbery. I'm afraid that's all I can tell you at this time. No more than the press will be informed shortly." He buttoned his overcoat and strolled towards the hotel's main doors.
"They caught the thief already?" Brigette's hushed voice held a note of amazement. "Imagine. It's only been a little more than twenty-four hours since the robbery."
"Any thief careless enough to leave a fortune in jewels lying around their cottage or flat deserves to be caught," said Katy, scornfully. "Anyone with a bit of sense would've buried them on the beach first."
We were in the clear, then, and I needn't worry that Detective Anson would come back to my statement for further evidence that I had sneaked away one of the precious jade combs or come clap Riley in irons for drugging two security guards. What sort of evidence tripped up the would-be thief, I wondered. A boxful of diamonds? A stolen boat for sailing away with his or her ill-gotten fortune?
Katy and Riley dispersed to their duties with relief, leaving me and Brigette alone in the foyer. I lifted the Fuller Brush broom and returned to my own work, which involved sweeping up the dirt and grass tracked across the foyer's polished floors by the PCs who had been searching the gardens around the terrace for evidence of the thief's escape.
Gomez appeared from behind the ferns, beckoning me. "Maisie," he said, keeping his voice quiet, glancing at the same time to make sure that Brigette didn't notice him lurking there.
"Something the matter?" I asked him, drawing nearer. Like Riley, Gomez's primary occupation when not carrying people's cases was smoking, loafing about, and sneaking tidbits from the kitchen, especially by coercing an unlucky staff member who had been temporarily assigned there to be their supply agent. "If this is a request for me to sneak you a cup of tea or a cake in the garden, you're out of luck this time. The sous chef almost caught me last time I fetched you a sandwich between hours. There are limits to loyalty for part-time members of the kitchen staff."
"This problem's all yours, love." He dropped his accent, and his voice still lower. "The suspect they just arrested is Sidney Daniels."
Sidney? Caretaker for the vicarage and church grounds, rescuer of stray dogs? Good Samaritan to the village's helpless and shut ins? The same Sidney who had been holding my hand on a blanket yesterday afternoon, challenging me to think of new goals for myself?
There was a mistake. Wrong name, wrong person — either way, it couldn't possibly be the same person I knew. I shook my head. "There must be some mistake," I said aloud. "It couldn't be Sidney. It couldn't." This was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. Sidney a thief, for heaven's sake?
"No mistake." Gomez's tone of voice was serious. "They arrested him this morning. He's at the station. I'll give you a ride there, if you like."
His kindness in offering this had flown completely over my head, because I was reeling from toes to head with shock. It had left me numb and speechless. Sidney in jail, evidence on Sidney's person linking him to a crime. How could it be true?
