Hattie Ever After by Kirby Larson Read Free Book Online Page B

new friend an uncertain wave from the elevator car. As the door slid between us, she turned and I could hear her mutter, “Figaro, you darned cat. Where have you got off to this time?”
    Out on the street, I consulted my Owl Drug map to make certain I was headed in the right direction. I opted to save the nickel carfare this time; I would rather apply it to the purchase of a cool soda at the end of my wanderings. As I walked, I puzzled over that peculiar little old lady. I’dcertainly never met anyone like her before! And that is precisely why you came to San Francisco, I reminded myself. To do the unusual. And meet the unusual.
    After a brisk walk, I found myself at the Pacific Building and stepped inside to study the directory. Accountants. Brokers. Detective agencies! Not one but two were listed: WEST COAST DETECTIVE AGENCY, THOMAS L. GRAY, GENERAL MANAGER, CHARGES REASONABLE , and GIGNAC SECRET SERVICE BUREAU, LUCIEN K. GIGNAC, PRESIDENT, DETECTIVE BUSINESS TRANSACTED THROUGHOUT THE WORLD . Imagine two detective agencies in the same place. Back in Arlington, there wasn’t even one. Truth to tell, such services weren’t needed, not with Aunt Ivy and the Ladies’ Guild keeping watchful eyes and sharp ears trained on the rest of the community.
    I kept scanning the list. Could my old-lady friend have sent me on a fool’s errand? Insurance. Underwriters. There! WILKES, STUART, ESQ. 7TH FLOOR . Now I hesitated. Perhaps I should simply send a note. What if Ruby was in the middle of something? The news I had was hardly fit to share in a public place like an office. I reached into my pocketbook, feeling around for the letter, my fingers brushing the feather I’d found on my way to Ruby Danvers’ apartment. Okay, Uncle Chester. I’ll do it.
    “Seventh floor,” I said to the elevator operator, squeezing into the nearly full car.
    Three quick stops and we were there. I stepped out, glancing first right and then left.
    “What office are you looking for?” the elevator operator asked. When I told him, he said, “Around the corner. End of the hall. You can’t miss it.”
    And I couldn’t. The office door was the fanciest portal I’d ever seen in my life. All oiled rosewood, carved with curlicues and oak leaves. It would take a giant’s knock on that door to be heard inside. I took a deep breath and turned the gleaming brass knob.
    The interior was as elaborate as the door, decorated with dark ornate woods and glass-fronted bookcases and statues and framed citations and diplomas. A blond woman wearing pince-nez spectacles glanced up from her work.
    “Are you Ruby Danvers?” I asked.
    She pointed to a nameplate on her desk that said MRS. HOLM . “Mrs. Danvers is on her way to lunch. Do you have an appointment?”
    I shook my head and patted my pocketbook. “I have something to return to her.”
    At that, Mrs. Holm picked up some sort of handset, and the next thing I knew, I was being escorted into an office as light and feminine as the outer sanctum was ponderous and masculine. Her back was to me, and she was slipping into hat and wrap, obviously preparing to leave, but she was just as I had imagined: delicate and small, a dainty magnolia flower to my coarse gumbo lily. The only thing I hadn’t imagined was the red hair.
    “Mrs. Danvers? A young lady to see you.” Mrs. Holm announced me, then disappeared.
    Ruby Danvers turned to face me, a quizzical expression on her face. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”
    I stepped into the room. “No. Not exactly. I have something that belongs to you.” I rummaged in my bag, retrieving letter and token.
    She reached behind her for a chair and sat. Hard. “Close the door,” she said.
    I did so, taking a deep breath before reciting the lines I’d rehearsed. “I am Hattie Brooks, niece to Chester Wright.” I cleared my throat. “The late Chester Wright.”
    She motioned me near, holding out her hand. I laid my deliveries across her gloved palm.
    She shook the token out of