Shadow Waltz Read Online Free Page B

of the detective, I must seem a very easy nut to crack.”
    Marjorie clicked her tongue and suppressed a laugh. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Are you still carrying on about that? If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone was still jealous.”
    Truth be told, the knowledge that Jameson’s lips had once touched Marjorie’s was more than a bit nettlesome, but Creighton would rather die than admit it, lest his fiancée hold it over his head the remainder of his life. “Not at all. I’ve won the heart, and hand, of fair maiden. Besides,” he added, recalling the exchange he had in the bookshop that morning, “it won’t be long before some other girl comes along to knock Jameson off his feet.”
    â€œI think you mean ‘sweep’ him off his feet.”
    â€œNo, darling, in this case I’m certain I mean ‘knock.’” He cleared his throat awkwardly and climbed the few steps to the front door of the bungalow. “Which is exactly what I’m about to do to t his door.” He raised his hand and let it fall upon the whitewashed wooden entrance. The action not only made a loud rapping sound, but caused the door to creak slowly inward.
    Marjorie gripped Creighton’s arm in tense anticipation. “Do you think we should go in?”
    â€œI don’t see why not.” He pushed the door ajar and took a step forward.
    Marjorie tugged him back. “I’m not sure we should be doing this. What if we get caught? We could be charged with breaking and entering or trespassing or … or worse!”
    Creighton narrowed his eyes. “What happened to Marjorie McClelland, fearless fact-finding femme fatale?”
    â€œShe’s alive and well, thank you very much!” She cast her eyes downward and poked at the cement of the front stoop with the toe of her shoe. “But I was thinking that maybe I should be a bit more … responsible … cautious …”
    â€œCautious? You thrive on excitement and intrigue, so, as you put it earlier, what gives?”
    â€œI’m scared,” she answered reluctantly. “All right? There, I said it. Are you happy?”
    â€œScared? I don’t believe it! You wanted to come here and, despite your protests to the contrary, you do want to see what’s behind that door.”
    â€œYes … yes, I do, but I have a very bad feeling about all of this. Something just isn’t right.”
    â€œWhat do you think is wrong?”
    Marjorie bit her lip in contemplation. “I don’t know. I don’t even know that there is something wrong.” She shook her head and sighed heavily. “Oh, I’m being ridiculous. Probably all that tim e with Robert.”
    Creighton turned up his nose and nodded. “Dreadfully unadventurous, wasn’t he?”
    Marjorie didn’t answer. Regaining possession of herself, she pushed past Creighton, fiddled with the lock, and swung the door open wide. “Let’s go!” she added as she jerked her head toward the entrance .
    â€œThat’s my g—” Before Creighton could complete the sentence, Marjorie grabbed him by the arm and dragged him indoors.
    The interior of the cottage was dim, but their eyesight quickly adjusted to the weak lighting.
    â€œIt’s empty,” Marjorie declared as she surveyed the vacant living room.
    The ventilation from the open door sent dust balls scurrying across the hardwood floor like tumbleweeds.
    Creighton scanned the walls, noting the darker areas where pictures once hung against the nicotine-stained, yellow-tinted plaster. “Miss Carter is a smoker,” he noted.
    Marjorie nodded in agreement. “Mmm. My father smoked a pipe, and when I washed the windows twice a year, they were nearly brown.” Her green eyes widened. “I know it’s quite the fashion, but no matter how I tried, I never could get the hang of smokin g.”
    Creighton smirked. No matter how