So Much For Buckingham: The Camilla Randall Mysteries #5 by Anne R. Allen

to look. Remember?" Peter gave an intimate smile.
    I stepped back. I was not at all in the mood for romantic nonsense.
    "What do you mean, 'used to look'? What happened to your building?"
    Peter typed some more.
    "Here's a piece from The Swynsby Sentinel from a fortnight ago. This is how it looked after the riot—or attack. I suppose it's more accurate to call it an attack. Henry Weems told me they were like an invading army."
    I leaned over his shoulder to peer at a grainy newspaper photograph of what might have been the Sherwood parking lot, full of broken bottles and trash.
    My questions started spilling out.
    "Who attacked who? You were in Swynsby? Henry was there?  Where are Vera and Pradeep? And Liam and Davey? Why don't they answer their email? Where's my check? And...you're supposed to be dead, Peter. Here I've been thinking you were dead for three whole years! Why aren't you dead?"
    That didn't come out the way I meant it.
    Peter laughed. "I left you a message. Didn't you get it?" He drained his snifter and went back to the kitchen. "I stopped by your store and left you a card with a drawing of a coyote. A reminder of when we first met. I imagined that would tell you it was me."
    He picked up the bottle from the counter and held it toward me.
    "Are you sure you won't have any?"
    I sighed and decided I might as well join him. Maybe it would help me calm down enough to communicate with this rakish ghost in my kitchen.
    "Thank you. Maybe I will. There are more glasses in the cabinet."
    As Peter took out another of my Waterford Lismore snifters, Buckingham sauntered up to him and meowed.
    "Does your cat want cognac too?" Peter smiled as he poured a couple of fingers into the snifter for me. "He looks thirsty."
    "Buckingham! I haven't fed you! I'm so sorry!"
    The poor cat. I had forgotten him. All my pet supplies were still in my shopping bags on the front step. I rushed out to get them and took a couple of deep breaths of cool sea air. I was sure this was all going to make sense once I had time to think, but right now I still felt as if I were in the middle of that tornado to Oz.
    I did remember Peter's "message," of course. I'd clung to a sliver of hope at the time that the coyote card with the odd message from a strange "fisherman" meant Peter was alive, but after all this time, that hope had died.
    "You didn't pay for that card, by the way—if that was you." I didn't quite smile at him as I brought the bags in and put them on the kitchen counter.
    I pulled out the two new cat bowls along with a can of Friskies Tasty Treasures. Buckingham had better like turkey and cheese with gravy. I opened the can and dumped it in the smaller of the new cat bowls.
    Peter gave one of his enigmatic shrugs and filled the bigger bowl with water from the tap. He set the two bowls on the kitchen floor.
    He and I watched in silence as Buckingham enjoyed his dinner.
    "Yes," Peter said finally. "I owe you for the cost of that card. I didn't have any U.S. currency at the time. I was only ashore for a few hours. As a matter of fact, I owe you for many things. Like this delightful cognac. I haven't had liquor this good for some time..."
    He swished his snifter. How could he do that? We were in the midst of chaos and there he was, calmly sipping Courvoisier.
    I looked at the glass he'd poured for me, but didn't pick it up. I wasn't sure I wanted it.
    "What do you know about these people who attacked the Sherwood offices?" My questions came rolling out again. "Do you know what happened to Plantagenet? What's going on over there in England? Was it a bomb?"
    Peter slammed down his glass.
    "What bomb? Have they bombed the Maidenette Building? They wouldn't be that bloody daft, would they?"
    "I was talking about the bomb in London. At the Old Vic. Last night. Plant was there. Isn't that what you're talking about?"
    "I..." Now Peter looked confused. "In London? Are you sure?"
    "Of course I'm sure. It's all over the news."
    Peter ran back to my desk