Royal Flush Read Online Free
Author: Stephanie Caffrey
trick," she said. Her expression was quizzical, and I didn't blame her. Why in the hell was a thirty-something woman sporting a too-tight pink T-shirt and aftermarket breasts asking about obscure British royalty?
"Thanks," I said, eyeing the book skeptically. "It turns out I have royal blood in me, so I want to check and see how I'm related to Prince Harry. Hopefully not too closely!" I giggled, for effect.
She smiled politely and pushed the book over to me. Sure you are, honey, she was thinking. "There are tables right over there, but the book can't leave this area, all right?"
I nodded and grabbed the giant thing, and Mike and I found a sleek table in the corner with the most natural light.
The book's title was ambitious: Theakston's Cyclopaedia of the British Monarchy, the Nobility, and the Descendants of Her Royal Highness Victoria, Queen of England and Empress of India . I checked inside the cover.
"Published in 1971," I muttered, my heart sinking. "That's not going to help too much."
Mike took the book and thumbed to the back. "But there are updates. Look here, this one's from last year." He pulled out a map-like insert that had been hiding in a pocket inside the back cover. Unfolded, it took up half the table.
"Talk about fine print!" I whispered. You almost needed a magnifying glass to make heads or tails of it, but it looked to be exactly what we were looking for.
While Mike studied the giant family tree, I paged through the book's index. There were a few dozen entries under the name "Kent," but there were no Henry Johns. He hadn't even been born at the time the book was published, of course, but I was hoping there might be a father or grandfather in there with the same name. I opened the book to the first Kent entry, but that line of Kents petered out in the 1920s. The second Kent entry dealt with a man named William Edward Kent (1849-1924), who appeared to be Queen Victoria's first cousin. A son of the same name (1882-1949) appeared next, and he had brothers named Alexander and Charles. Tracing their lines downward, I found the next generation of Kents, all of whom lived in someplace called Kingston-upon-Hull.
"Where the hell is Kingston-upon-Hull?" I asked.
Mike shrugged. "On the Hull River, of course," he said distractedly.
"And where is that?"
"Hell if I know. England?"
I elbowed him in the gut, which was kind of like elbowing a piece of granite. He muttered something inaudible and then pointed to the chart he was poring over.
"Here are some Kents. John, James, Richard, Nigel. They're all alive today and live in the same place, Kingston-upon-Hull."
"No Henry John?" I asked.
"Nope. Seems your guy is a fraud."
I nodded. "I wasn't expecting any other result, really. But there could be others, I suppose."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, this is a big chart and everything, but it can't possibly list every single distant relative of the royal family."
Mike shrugged. "It seems pretty comprehensive to me. And this is only from a year ago, so it's up-to-date."
I frowned. "But still. It can't be this easy, can it?"
"I think you're trying too hard. You probably got a nice retainer and found an interesting case, and now you're trying to milk it."
I cocked my head sideways. "Wrong. I just think the mission is a little bigger than just pointing to a book and telling her 'Sorry, he's not in there.'"
"Maybe, but 'Sorry, he's not in there' would be a good start," he said.
Mike was being supervisor-Mike now instead of quasi-friend-Mike or blue-eyed-sexy Mike. Supervisor-Mike wasn't my favorite Mike, I had to admit.
I thought about it for a second. "I mean, she doesn't care about the royalty business all that much. I think what she really wants to know is, who is this guy ? And that requires more than just going to the library and looking in some musty old book."
"If you say so," he said, unconvinced.
" Mike ," I whispered loudly, "she gave me ten grand ."
His eyes got big. Insurance companies usually paid
"Thanks," I said, eyeing the book skeptically. "It turns out I have royal blood in me, so I want to check and see how I'm related to Prince Harry. Hopefully not too closely!" I giggled, for effect.
She smiled politely and pushed the book over to me. Sure you are, honey, she was thinking. "There are tables right over there, but the book can't leave this area, all right?"
I nodded and grabbed the giant thing, and Mike and I found a sleek table in the corner with the most natural light.
The book's title was ambitious: Theakston's Cyclopaedia of the British Monarchy, the Nobility, and the Descendants of Her Royal Highness Victoria, Queen of England and Empress of India . I checked inside the cover.
"Published in 1971," I muttered, my heart sinking. "That's not going to help too much."
Mike took the book and thumbed to the back. "But there are updates. Look here, this one's from last year." He pulled out a map-like insert that had been hiding in a pocket inside the back cover. Unfolded, it took up half the table.
"Talk about fine print!" I whispered. You almost needed a magnifying glass to make heads or tails of it, but it looked to be exactly what we were looking for.
While Mike studied the giant family tree, I paged through the book's index. There were a few dozen entries under the name "Kent," but there were no Henry Johns. He hadn't even been born at the time the book was published, of course, but I was hoping there might be a father or grandfather in there with the same name. I opened the book to the first Kent entry, but that line of Kents petered out in the 1920s. The second Kent entry dealt with a man named William Edward Kent (1849-1924), who appeared to be Queen Victoria's first cousin. A son of the same name (1882-1949) appeared next, and he had brothers named Alexander and Charles. Tracing their lines downward, I found the next generation of Kents, all of whom lived in someplace called Kingston-upon-Hull.
"Where the hell is Kingston-upon-Hull?" I asked.
Mike shrugged. "On the Hull River, of course," he said distractedly.
"And where is that?"
"Hell if I know. England?"
I elbowed him in the gut, which was kind of like elbowing a piece of granite. He muttered something inaudible and then pointed to the chart he was poring over.
"Here are some Kents. John, James, Richard, Nigel. They're all alive today and live in the same place, Kingston-upon-Hull."
"No Henry John?" I asked.
"Nope. Seems your guy is a fraud."
I nodded. "I wasn't expecting any other result, really. But there could be others, I suppose."
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, this is a big chart and everything, but it can't possibly list every single distant relative of the royal family."
Mike shrugged. "It seems pretty comprehensive to me. And this is only from a year ago, so it's up-to-date."
I frowned. "But still. It can't be this easy, can it?"
"I think you're trying too hard. You probably got a nice retainer and found an interesting case, and now you're trying to milk it."
I cocked my head sideways. "Wrong. I just think the mission is a little bigger than just pointing to a book and telling her 'Sorry, he's not in there.'"
"Maybe, but 'Sorry, he's not in there' would be a good start," he said.
Mike was being supervisor-Mike now instead of quasi-friend-Mike or blue-eyed-sexy Mike. Supervisor-Mike wasn't my favorite Mike, I had to admit.
I thought about it for a second. "I mean, she doesn't care about the royalty business all that much. I think what she really wants to know is, who is this guy ? And that requires more than just going to the library and looking in some musty old book."
"If you say so," he said, unconvinced.
" Mike ," I whispered loudly, "she gave me ten grand ."
His eyes got big. Insurance companies usually paid
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