My Heroes Have Always Been Hitmen (Humorous Romantic Shorts) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) by Leslie Langtry Page B
Authors: Leslie Langtry
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state of shock that Wini had announced her engagement and been jilted at her own wedding all in the same hour that very few people noticed my ruined dress. Aunt Josephine turned everyone out in order to comfort her daughter in privacy.
Back at the Washingtonian, once Siobhan had gone to bed for the night and Auntie India had once again become Troy, we opened the file on Sperry together.
The Bombay Council had been right. As they always were. Sperry was the worst sort of man. In his lust for gold, he 'd allowed an unstable mine to collapse, trapping and slowly killing ten miners inside. Gambling debts had become overwhelming, and he'd taken to seducing and killing a wealthy widow for her money. Once that ran out, he'd decided to come home and woo his cousin Winifred.
" And that's why you need to read the file the Council sends," Troy admonished when I'd tossed the papers into the fireplace. "You wouldn't have second-guessed yourself today if you'd just read the file."
I was exhausted and depressed. In one day, I 'd managed to crush the hopes of my best friend who only wanted a husband and family. And while she almost married a monster who would've killed her, I still felt raw and empty.
" You did the right thing." Troy patted my hand gently. "Wini will find someone else."
" I know." I leaned back in my chair and stared at the flames as they devoured the sordid story of Carter Livingstone Sperry.
" Maybe I need a little change," I finally said.
Troy sat straight up. "Ugh! Please don't say we are going up north! I don't want to see Mother and the others right now."
I shook my head. "I was thinking of something else. Maybe a grand tour of Europe?"
Troy perked up. "Will there be parties?"
I nodded. "Yes. And you don't even have to be Auntie India if you don't want to."
" Can I be someone else?" Troy pouted.
" How about if you are just you? The dashing and wonderful and witty you?"
Troy looked at me sternly. "My darling, I am always wonderful and witty, whether I am a woman or not. No, you need a chaperone. I think I'll come up with someone else. A sister perhaps? Or a cousin this time? I do hate playing an older woman."
" Okay. You can be my sister," I said. I'd always wanted a sister.
Troy nodded. "Yes, your younger , prettier sister. Who has a smaller waist and wears hats that are appropriate to her age."
I sighed. I guess I could live with that.
Dublin Bombay
Moray , Scotland—892 A.D.
"You have to go to the Orkneys. We have a target for you," Uncle Rome said as he tossed another greasy bone to the dogs at his feet. He sucked on his fingers before wiping a slimy hand across his tunic.
I shook my head . "I don't want to go to the Orkneys. No one does. It's cold there, and they have Vikings." And I meant it. Vikings were a pain in the ass—always bludgeoning this and stabbing that. Nobody wanted them and yet there they were, like an infestation of fleas…well-armed fleas that wanted to kill you.
And you want to talk about cold? In winter, the Orkney Islands were frigid and damp, leaving your bones aching with the question of, Why in the hell are we in the damn Orkneys? The fire crackled to my left as if it too wanted me to stay.
Uncle looked down his nose at me. "You say that as if you have a choice. You don't."
He was right. I might as well have been arguing with the wind. The cold, bitter wind that blew down from the Orkneys.
Currently, the Bombay Family was comfortably ensconced in a large, warm castle. After defeating a rather scruffy tribe of Picts (another group who are very stabby and bludgeony—but with worse manners) to claim the land, we'd settled in. Sure, the Picts had been tough to remove, but the Bombay Council had wanted a northern stronghold. This was it.
Sharing a castle with family wasn 't a trial so much as it was a challenge. A challenge to keep us from killing one another. And we faced this
Back at the Washingtonian, once Siobhan had gone to bed for the night and Auntie India had once again become Troy, we opened the file on Sperry together.
The Bombay Council had been right. As they always were. Sperry was the worst sort of man. In his lust for gold, he 'd allowed an unstable mine to collapse, trapping and slowly killing ten miners inside. Gambling debts had become overwhelming, and he'd taken to seducing and killing a wealthy widow for her money. Once that ran out, he'd decided to come home and woo his cousin Winifred.
" And that's why you need to read the file the Council sends," Troy admonished when I'd tossed the papers into the fireplace. "You wouldn't have second-guessed yourself today if you'd just read the file."
I was exhausted and depressed. In one day, I 'd managed to crush the hopes of my best friend who only wanted a husband and family. And while she almost married a monster who would've killed her, I still felt raw and empty.
" You did the right thing." Troy patted my hand gently. "Wini will find someone else."
" I know." I leaned back in my chair and stared at the flames as they devoured the sordid story of Carter Livingstone Sperry.
" Maybe I need a little change," I finally said.
Troy sat straight up. "Ugh! Please don't say we are going up north! I don't want to see Mother and the others right now."
I shook my head. "I was thinking of something else. Maybe a grand tour of Europe?"
Troy perked up. "Will there be parties?"
I nodded. "Yes. And you don't even have to be Auntie India if you don't want to."
" Can I be someone else?" Troy pouted.
" How about if you are just you? The dashing and wonderful and witty you?"
Troy looked at me sternly. "My darling, I am always wonderful and witty, whether I am a woman or not. No, you need a chaperone. I think I'll come up with someone else. A sister perhaps? Or a cousin this time? I do hate playing an older woman."
" Okay. You can be my sister," I said. I'd always wanted a sister.
Troy nodded. "Yes, your younger , prettier sister. Who has a smaller waist and wears hats that are appropriate to her age."
I sighed. I guess I could live with that.
Dublin Bombay
Moray , Scotland—892 A.D.
"You have to go to the Orkneys. We have a target for you," Uncle Rome said as he tossed another greasy bone to the dogs at his feet. He sucked on his fingers before wiping a slimy hand across his tunic.
I shook my head . "I don't want to go to the Orkneys. No one does. It's cold there, and they have Vikings." And I meant it. Vikings were a pain in the ass—always bludgeoning this and stabbing that. Nobody wanted them and yet there they were, like an infestation of fleas…well-armed fleas that wanted to kill you.
And you want to talk about cold? In winter, the Orkney Islands were frigid and damp, leaving your bones aching with the question of, Why in the hell are we in the damn Orkneys? The fire crackled to my left as if it too wanted me to stay.
Uncle looked down his nose at me. "You say that as if you have a choice. You don't."
He was right. I might as well have been arguing with the wind. The cold, bitter wind that blew down from the Orkneys.
Currently, the Bombay Family was comfortably ensconced in a large, warm castle. After defeating a rather scruffy tribe of Picts (another group who are very stabby and bludgeony—but with worse manners) to claim the land, we'd settled in. Sure, the Picts had been tough to remove, but the Bombay Council had wanted a northern stronghold. This was it.
Sharing a castle with family wasn 't a trial so much as it was a challenge. A challenge to keep us from killing one another. And we faced this
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