A Fatal Affair Read online

  A FATAL AFFAIR: A Jazz & Gin Cozy Mystery (book 1)

  By Carolyn L. Dean

  A FATAL AFFAIR is copyright 2019 by Carolyn L. Dean. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  My website is at http://CarolynDeanBooks.com I have a newsletter you can sign up for there, and I PROMISE not to spam you. I only send out news when there’s something new, on sale, or FREE. I PROMISE.

  DEDICATION:

  This book is dedicated to all the readers who take the time and effort to live inside an author’s world while they read our books. I think of you every time I sit down to write, and am so grateful.

  And for Pat, who has become family.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

  Cover design by Peter Oberdorf, at http://www.rimrockmercantile.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  FROM THE AUTHOR – Carolyn L. Dean

  Chapter 1

  “Eddie!”

  There was a muffled grunt, then a burst of creative swearing from behind the desk.

  “Don’t bug me, Preston. I’ve almost got it...”

  “Um, we’ve got a visitor,” Preston said, sounding decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Give me a minute, will ya?”

  “Eddie, there’s no way you’re going to get that thing off there without my help. Quit trying!”

  Preston sighed in resignation, crossed his arms over his brown wool coat, and leaned against the doorway as he waited. Edwina Winterwood was smart as a whip and stubborn as a mule, and he knew that when she didn’t want to be rushed, there was nothing on earth he could do to change her mind.

  “HA! That should do the trick.” A pair of long-lashed hazel eyes, topped with a short mop of clustered dark curls, peered over the edge of the wooden desk. Edwina put one hand on the desktop and hefted herself to her feet, holding onto a massive wrench in the other like a trophy.

  As soon as she saw why Preston had wanted her out from behind the desk, her eyes narrowed in contempt.

  “What in the world are you doing here?”

  Graham, her older brother, looked her up and down. He was tall, handsome, and dressed elegantly in a greatcoat and smelling of expensive aftershave.

  “Nice to see you, too, Eddie,” he said, using the nickname he’d given her years ago. He’d originally done it to irritate her, but after a while Edwina had grown to like it. Graham’s lip curled in disapproval at the sight of his sister, young heiress to the Winterwood fortune, dressed in dirty, gray coveralls. “Did you get a job as a janitor? Or are you just early for next Halloween?”

  Preston, Edwina’s friend for many years, stepped toward the office’s waiting room, as if wanting to avoid being part of the fight he knew was coming. “I’ll just be out here,” he said, practically tiptoeing by. He’s seen the Winterwood siblings, so different in everything but their amazing ability to argue, tangle before and he wanted no part of it.

  “And why is it so damn cold in here?” Graham asked. “Are you Scrooge or something? Not letting Cratchit put any coal on the fire?”

  Edwina grimaced and set the wrench down on the wooden desktop with a loud thunk. “We’ve been having some radiator issues, but I’ve got it handled. It should work now.” She straightened herself up to her full height of 5’2” and locked eyes with her tall brother. “Okay, how did you find me? Did someone rat me out, or did you just pay to have me followed?”

  Graham walked to the window, drew his gloved hand across the sill as if searching for dust, and shook his head in disapproval when he looked at it.

  “Oh, I didn’t have to follow you, sweet sister. The cat’s out of the bag. It turns out Mom and Dad got congratulations about your sleuthing, straight from the police chief himself.”

  Edwina’s heart sank. She had a pretty good idea what Graham was going to say next, and he didn’t disappoint her.

  “He said you’d done Chicago a great service by solving the case of who stole that big diamond a while back.” He glanced at her. “What was it called, the Flame?”

  “The Torch.” Edwina sagged a bit, even though she tried not to let Graham know. The brilliant canary-yellow diamond had been her only paid job as an investigator, and she’d been thrilled to uncover a murderer and retrieve the stunning gemstone. Now that her brother was in her office, her secret of having a place from which to run investigations seemed to be completely gone. “But that was months ago. Why now?”

  “Why not?” he responded. “You’re lucky you kept the secret this long, and that your name never got in the papers. Mother said she thought you’d been spending your time down at that scruffy mechanic’s shop or something like that, but when she found out you’d become a private investigator she about had a fit.”

  Edwina plopped into her desk chair, defeated. “Oh, fabulous. She didn’t take it well, I suppose.”

  A tight smile stretched across Graham’s face, not quite reaching his eyes. “That’s an understatement. She’s taken three of her sleeping pills and told the maids not to disturb her. Dad’s locked himself in his study.” He paused for effect, a little smile playing around the corner of his thin lips. “With a bottle of scotch and his account books.”

  “Doing what the family does best,” Edwina commented dryly, “hiding.”

  When her brother opened his mouth in quick rebuttal, she put up a calming hand. “You’re right, Graham. You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not trying to be disrespectful of the family. I’m just tired of being the black sheep all the time. It seems like whatever I do, I’m rubbing someone the wrong way.”

  He leaned back and picked at his thumbnail a bit. “That about sums it up,” he said, and Edwina shot her brother a dirty look.

  “Says the golden child. It must be nice to be perfect all the time.”

  “Not perfect, Eddie. Just not obvious and rebellious. Maybe I’m just better at hiding my indiscretions.” He sat down on the corner of her desk and leaned toward her. Well-groomed, well-heeled, and unimaginative as a bag of wet rocks, he’d been the heir apparent to take over the family’s multiple businesses for as long as Edwina would remember. “How many years of finishing school did Mother pay for?”

  “Too many.”

  “Money wasted, wasn’t it?”

  Edwina glared at him in disgust, and Graham chuckled to himself, as if vastly pleased.

  “I think you’ve really done it this time, Eddie,” he said. “Dad mentioned something about yanking a knot in your tail to try to keep you in line.” He pulled a silver cigarette case out of his pocket and opened it. Tapping a cigarette on the case, he lit the end and blew out a slow plume of smoke. “Isn’t it about time we married you off, anyway? I’d hate to think you’ve missed the bloom of your girlish youth by being so headstrong.” The smile he gave her was completely fake. “You know, I’ve got some nice rich friends. I could introduce you. Let them know you’re o
n the market for a husband.”

  Edwina bit off a bark of laughter, then leaned back in her chair and crossed her boot-covered feet on the desktop. “Not a chance in hell, Graham. I’ve met your friends. They’re about as deep as a cookie sheet. I’m not going to wind up as someone’s rich wife, while they keep me in a Mason jar with a screw-on lid and punch holes in the top when they feel like letting me breathe.”

  “Fine,” Graham said with a careless shrug. “Suit yourself, sis.”

  There was a note of complacency to Graham’s statement that set off alarm bells in Edwina’s head. Her brother had a well-earned reputation for being much meaner than he was showing, and when he seemed too pliant it made her instantly suspicious.

  Sure enough, she just had to wait for a moment before he dropped the other shoe.

  “But Dad’s said he’s considering cutting you off without any funds, and he’s not paying for you to be some sort of female gumshoe. You could well be left without a penny in your purse if you keep up this weird hobby of yours.”

  “It’s not a hobby, Graham. It’s my new business.”

  The edges of her brother’s mouth curled up in a slight grin as his eyes narrowed. The pretense of not enjoying what was playing out between them had entirely disappeared. “Let’s just say that there was talk about having you live with Aunt Zinnia, if you don’t toe the family line.”

  Edwina’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “They’d kick me out and have me live with Aunt Zinnia? Really?”

  If what Graham said was true, it meant her parents were dead serious about trying to rein her in. Aunt Zinnia was her mother’s sister, and a free spirit who lived on the other side of Chicago. Her bohemian dress, outspoken opinions, and an impressive string of boyfriends made her persona non grata in the stuffy Winterwood household. She hadn’t been included in a family gathering in years, unless it was for a funeral or wedding.

  Graham took a long drag of his cigarette. “Yep. Zinnia the Zany.” He studied his fingernails as if disinterested, but Edwina could hear the lilt of triumph in her brother’s voice. “That’s what you get for dabbling in things that are crazy. If you lose your safety net and the folks cut off your allowance, well…”

  “This is my job,” Edwina said firmly, her eyes narrowing in anger, “and it turns out I’m kind of good at it. I earn my own money.” It hurt to hear Graham bring up the fact she was dependent on the sizable allowance her parents provided. The money she’d earned from her one paid job as an investigator didn’t come close to what she needed to live on.

  Graham pointedly looked around the shabby two-room office she’d rented, and she could feel herself shrink a bit. It was a far cry from the space and luxury of the Winterwood home, with its servants and heirloom artwork. The plank wooden floors in her office were bare and cold. The only furniture was a couple of chairs and a small table in the windowless waiting room, and a battered desk and a couple of ladderback chairs in what functioned as her private office. A calendar from her friend George Bromley’s mechanic garage hung behind her, topped by a colorful picture of an apple-cheeked boy catching a fish while his father held the net in gleeful expectation. As plain as the office was, it was all hers, and she often felt more at home there or in George’s greasy auto garage than at her parents’ palatial estate.

  Graham stood up and stubbed his cigarette out in the glass ashtray on the corner of Edwina’s desk, all while looking his sister in the eyes. “Yeah, I can tell you’re rolling in dough. Fine. Do what you want. Just don’t be surprised if Dad sends his private security down here and has them drag you home, kicking and screaming.” He grinned. “Maybe he’ll send Orvis.”

  Mr. Orvis was her father’s fix-it man, who seemed to handle whatever difficult situations came up for the family. When she’d asked her father about Orvis’ actual duties, she’d gotten the definite impression that the less she knew about Orvis’ actions, the better.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Edwina had a sudden urge to haul off and belt her brother with the big wrench on her desk, but she glared at him instead.

  Graham chuckled as he walked to the door and put his hand on the knob. “More than you know, sweet sister. More than you know. I think I’d pay good money to see that, actually.”

  Chapter 2

  Edwina had done her absolute best to avoid her parents when she got home that night, and it was easier than she’d thought it was going to be. Her mother was still sequestered in her room, resting and probably regaling her patient maid with tales of how her daughter’s wild nature was bringing the family to ruin. Rawson Winterwood had locked himself in his study and had only opened the door when a maid brought him a dinner tray. Hopkins, the butler, had bowed stiffly to Edwina as he walked through the kitchen but, always the model of discretion, hadn’t hinted that he was aware of any sort of conflict in the family. The new cook, Mrs. O’Doul, had set a plate of roast beef and potatoes in front of Edwina and had scurried away, as if she could somehow be tangled up in the situation. With a new job on the line, she couldn’t afford to take sides. After wolfing down her dinner, Edwina headed quietly upstairs. In a large, rambling mansion like the Winterwood home, ducking up the back stairs, normally used by the servants to get around while mostly unseen, helped to give Edwina the best chance of not running into her family.

  Amazing how I feel so much more at home in my little office, she thought, as she closed her bedroom door behind her. It’s almost like I can’t breathe in this house anymore.

  ---

  When she got to her office the next morning, she began to change her mind about how uncomfortable it was to be at home. The wintry Chicago weather was tough to endure while driving to her workplace, but when she walked into the building and realized it was nearly as cold inside as outside, she grimaced in disgust. Apparently, the heat issues were much more than just the radiator in her little office. The whole place was affected.

  Coat pulled tightly around her, she snuggled into the fox fur collar as she walked upstairs. Maybe she could do some thinking about how to get the word out that she was a lady detective for hire. Her efforts to find work had been frustrating and awkward, with few leads and no results. Now that her parents knew of her new profession, maybe she could approach a couple of the police officers she knew and see if they could throw her any bones. They might have pointers or ideas, but she was hoping they’d have cases she could help with.

  It was certainly worth the effort and the cost of buying the officers a cup of coffee and a doughnut or two.

  Walking up the stairs, her mind full of possibilities for the future, Edwina heard a rustle of movement near the top of the staircase, and paused.

  There was someone outside her office, on the second story landing.

  Someone fiddling with the door.

  Edwina silently opened her leather handbag and drew out her small pistol. She’d bought it months ago, knowing enough about Chicago to realize that a gun might come in handy in her new profession. Her father had made enemies on many fronts due to his various business dealings, some which were possibly facilitated by politicians looking the other way or a fat bribe here or there, so she’d grown used to being aware of who was around her all the time. The only thing that seemed to keep her family safe was a few hired guards, her family’s reputation, and the fact her parents had curried favor with every influential citizen of Chicago they could find.

  After she’d purchased the gun to defend herself, Edwina had practiced with her friends Preston and Agnes Scapelli at a farm outside the city. She hadn’t been surprised when her adventurous friend Agnes had insisted on practicing, too, then bought a tiny pistol with mother-of-pearl grips for herself.

  Guns, guards, underworld figures, and someone lurking on the landing.

  In Chicago, anything could happen.

  Chapter 3

  Holding the gun down by her side, slightly hidden behind her hip, Edwina took a deep breath and slowly climbed the last few creaky steps. As the stairs turned toward
the upstairs landing, she could see a young woman, dressed in dark clothes and a cloche hat, leaning against her door and scribbling a note on a small piece of paper.

  Not a killer. Killers didn’t leave notes.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Edwina slid the uncocked gun back into her handbag.

  “May I help you?”

  The young woman turned, startled at her voice, and Edwina’s first impression was that the lady was from the wrong century. Flaming red hair framed a classically beautiful face that would’ve been at home in any Renaissance master’s painting. Huge, dark-lashed eyes stared back at her, her open mouth accentuated by bright lip rouge.

  “Um, I’m looking for the private investigator.” She blinked, then said, “You’re her, aren’t you? You’re Edwina Eaton.”

  Edwina nodded. She’d deliberately used her mother’s maiden name for her new business. The Winterwood name and wealth were known all over Chicago, and the last thing she needed was someone who wanted to take advantage of that somehow.

  “Yes, I am.” She pulled out her key and slid it into the lock. Pushing the door open, she gestured for her guest to precede her. “Please.”

  The room wasn’t much warmer than the arctic stairwell. Edwina pulled off a glove and laid it on the radiator, not surprised to find it icy cold.

  “I’m so sorry about the heat. It looks like I need to call the superintendent.” She offered her guest a chair in the small waiting room, then sat opposite her. “What can I do for you, Miss…?”

  “Elmer. I’m Bunny Elmer.” She glanced around, as if expecting someone to be lurking nearby, eavesdropping. “I’m hoping you can help me, Miss Eaton.”

  “What sort of help do you need?”

  Bunny shook her head, her face troubled. “It’s not for me. It’s for my employer.” She paused, and finally said, “Gloria Linwood.”