Blackvine Manor Mystery by Wendy Meadows Read Free Book Online Page A

up what she sensed in the courtyard.
    It is hard for her to believe herself but somehow she saw Delia running around the fountain to greet Fenton with a kiss on the cheek. Focusing on it, she forces the impression to slow down in her memory.
    Repeating over and over that it really happened, she notes the details to herself. “Hair in a bun, white shirt tucked into a long gray skirt, black shoes.”
    She lets the image run through her mind again and concentrates on Fenton. “Salt and pepper hair, shorter than Delia, dark suit. She laughs when she sees the pin on his lapel.”
    Alexis opens her eyes and leans against the inside of her door for a few breaths before dashing to her computer. The design on the pin is clear in her head: a coat of arms with four corners containing a laurel wreath, a pen, a peacock feather, and a tower. Within minutes she clicks on the website of Belmont Academy and sees the exact same coat of arms.
    The phone is ringing before Alexis has even planned what to say. “Good afternoon, Belmont Academy.”
    “Hi, ah, yes. I’m calling to inquire about a former student, many years ago. Do I need to talk to records?”
    The voice is swift. “Perhaps I can help you. The student’s name?”
    Alexis hesitates but takes her chance. “Collin Fenton.”
    There is a long pause on the other end. “Belmont Academy has no affiliation with Mr. Fenton past his childhood schooling and we have no statements to make to the press.”
    The line is so practiced that Alexis gapes for a moment before trying, “One more inquiry, please? Delia Charles?”
    She hears a heavy sigh and quick typing before, “No student of that name here.”
    “No, wait, I’m sorry. Delia Maxwell.”
    More typing and another pause. “Yes, though I am not at liberty to say anything more.”
    “Thanks so much for your time!” Alexis hangs up the phone before charging out the door to find Maxwell.

Chapter Twelve
    A LEXIS LEANS HER SHOULDER AGAINST the “superintendent” sign, ready to gloat. Maxwell is half slumped over the desk, head propped up with one hand as the other idly thumbs through a stack of papers. The office is sparse, straight out of the 1950s, with the large wooden desk and a metal filing cabinet. Two straight-backed chairs flank a small table against the left wall and one lonely lamp stands sentinel in the corner. Just as she is realizing nothing decorates the cream-colored, paint-peeling walls, Maxwell notices her standing there.
    “Hello, beautiful,” he says, hoping to avoid any incendiary topics.
    “Do you like being a landlord?”
    He glances around the office himself and gives a small smile. “I’m supposed to be studying law like my father or joining the force like my grandfather. This isn’t a job, it’s an additional source of income.”
    Alexis pushes off the door and decides to try out one of the straight-backed chairs. “So you’re hiding out here.”
    Maxwell tips back in his desk chair and puts his feet up on the desk. “I like it here. I feel like one of those private investigators from an old movie. All I need is a hat rack with a fedora.”
    “I could see you as a private investigator.”
    He smiles at her wolfishly. “And are you the damsel in distress or the femme fatale?”
    Alexis can barely resist his game but instead steers the conversation back towards her original purpose. “Seems like private investigator is somewhere in between being a lawyer and a police officer. Why not go for it?”
    Putting his feet back on the floor, he sighs. “I don’t know; I’m just not inspired.”
    Taking her opening, Alexis tells him, “You know, I chose a career in advertising because I thought it was all about inspiration. Now I’ve realized the most inspired I’ve ever felt is when I started using my mother’s book on clairvoyance. I’m starting to wonder if we all have callings we just can’t avoid.”
    Maxwell is looking at the spread of papers in front of him again. “You’re being