Winters & Somers by Glenys O'Connell Page A

identities.”
                “No
photographs. I don’t do photographs,” Winters said sharply.
                “Why
ever not? A good looking guy like you?” He turned to look out the window, hands
pushed into the front pockets of his suit pants, but she was sure there was a
higher color on his cheeks.
                “Nice
of you to say so – is that a point to my side? But no, no photographs.”
                Cíara
just shrugged; content to know that her barb had gone home. Now, if she could
only find out what sinister reason lay behind Mr. Winters’ fear of photographs….after
all, she was a detective!
    And I’m going to need any ammunition I can get to
survive the next few weeks!
                Finally, Winters
announced it was time for lunch. Optimistically setting the answering machine,
he invited her to join him. She was about to tell him to get lost – part of her
campaign plan was to spend as little time with Winters as possible – when he
added that her old friend Bill would be joining them.
    He grinned at
her evil smile. “Remember, revenge is a dish best served cold,” he murmured as
he helped her on with her jacket.
    * * *
    Winters had chosen a small pub in the popular
Temple Bar area for lunch and Bill was already seated when they arrived. He
shifted nervously as he saw the mean glint in Cíara’s eye. “Before you say
anything at all, I think it’s marvelously romantic, the way this guy wanted to
track you down – and Sórcha backs me up on that,” Bill announced in a bid to
pre-empt her temper tantrum.
                 Cíara
was gob smacked. When she could string a coherent sentence together, she
gasped: “Romantic?”
                “Yeah,
sweetheart, I told Bill that I’d only seen you the once, but that I knew we had
a future together,” Winters said, straight faced, muttering a muffled ‘ouch’ as
Cíara’s heel connected solidly with his toes under the table. Bill looked
startled, but didn’t comment – probably glad to have the redheaded detective's
attention taken off his own transgressions.
                “Well,
Bill, there’s good news – Cíara and I have agreed to go into partnership.”
                “What!
What happened to all your whining about how you have to be chained to the
computer for the whole year for this special project…?”
                “I
needed some stimulus, and Cíara certainly provided that,” Winters replied,
grinning. Her cheeks burned as she caught Bill's smirk.
                “But
what happens when your sabbatical is over and you go back to the States? Where
will that leave Cíara?” Bill had the good grace to look concerned.
                “You’re
going back to the States?” She didn’t know whether to be pleased at the
prospect, or angry that he was trying to muscle in on her business when he
wasn’t going to be around long-term.
                Winters
was silent. Bill studied each of them in turn. “You haven’t told her, have
you?”
                Winters
rolled his eyes and suggested they order, but she wasn’t to be put off.
                “I
suspect there’s lots of things this bollox hasn’t told me, Bill, so do go ahead
and enlighten me,” she said.
                “I’m
sorry, Jon, but she should know if she thinks there’s any long term arrangement
in this. Jon’s only in Ireland for a year – less, now – because he’s on sabbatical
from his job.”
                “From
his job?” She looked suspiciously from one man to another, “But I thought he
was just a writer…?”
                “Just
a writer?” Winters squawked.
                Bill
grinned. “Well, he probably makes more money from his books than from his job,
but Jon’s a police detective in New York. Homicide. That’s how I got to know
him – remember