A Familiar Tail Read Online Free Page B

her. I did not like this. At all. “I hope that’s not a problem?”
    â€œNo. No. Sorry. Just . . . no. Your room’s at the end of the hall.” Valerie turned away and started walking, leaving me and my suitcases to catch up.
    Ooookaaayyy . . . first we’ve got the rich blond lady interrogating me; then we get a ghost cat with a dead, possibly murdered owner. Now we’ve got a landlady gettingweirded out about the family name. Looks like I picked the wrong week to visit Lovely Portsmouth.
    â€œHere you go!” Valerie’s cheery tone was a little strained as she pushed open the door. “The Green Room.”
    And a very nice choice of greens it was. The color on the walls was clear and delicate, while the trim and ceiling were closer to a moss agate. Area rugs softened the dark floorboards, and simple white curtains decorated the windows. The centerpiece, though, was the four-poster bed with a white crewelwork canopy and matching coverlet. Anywhere else, that a piece of furniture would have looked like overkill, but it fit here. As a bonus, the room had its own fireplace, and the faint scent of woodsmoke told me it was in working order.
    Valerie unfolded the luggage rack beside the closet so I could heave one of my suitcases onto it. The rack creaked and wobbled, but it held.
    â€œIt’s all en suite.” Valerie waved toward a small green-and-white bathroom. “I’ll let you get settled.”
    â€œThanks.”
    She smiled, and I smiled and kept on smiling until she closed the door.
    Now, a normal person would have begun checking out all the details of this lovely sunny room, or at least started unpacking. Me, I folded my arms and tried to brace myself for a Vibe to shimmy through the bright summer morning and into my unwilling self. Valerie’s reaction to my Blessingsound ancestry had come too soon after the whole thing with Alistair, and the other whole thing with Mrs. Maitland. I fully expected the other shoe of weirdness to drop anytime now.
    But the Vibe stayed quiet for the moment. Instead, I pulled out my cell phone, hit Grandma B.B.’s number and waited while it rang.
    â€œHello! This is Annabelle Britton, but I can’t come to the phone right now . . .”
    I rolled my eyes. Grandma B.B.’s social life was a matter of amazement for the rest of us. Wherever she lived, she was always joining some new club or other; then there were all the church committees, not to mention the adult education lessons and the knitting circles. The words “sit still” were simply not in her vocabulary.
    The message ended and I got the beep. “Hi, Grandma B.B. It’s your namesake. I’m in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and . . .” I hesitated. What was I going to say?
I’m in Portsmouth and everybody here seems to think they know you?
“And I thought I’d give you a ring,” I finished lamely. “Call me when you get this.”
    I hung up and let myself flop backward onto the bed and sigh. It wasn’t even dinnertime and I was already exhausted. More than that, though, I had a twitchy, uncomfortable feeling, and I couldn’t tell where it came from. It wasn’t one of my Vibes, really, but it wasn’t anything else I could readily identify. I rubbed both arms and told myself it’d be okay. It wasn’t like I had to stay here at McDermott’s. I didn’t even have to stay in Portsmouth. I could figure out some excuse for Martine, climb in the Jeep and head straight back to Boston. Maybe I could say an important client meeting had come up. Martine understood about scrambling for work, and while I wouldn’t say my bank account was on CPR, it was definitely not healthy enough to be left alone without trained supervision. I thought about this as I gazed at the canopy and tried not to feel like I was a coward running away from shadows. Then I thought about the client I