Excerpt from The Harmony Duprie Mysteries

The Marquesa’s Necklace, Book One

Chapter One

I first noticed him at the other end of the row when I glanced up to find another book. I recognize most of the regular patrons, and he wasn’t one of them. Curiosity kicked in, and I gave him a good looking over as I pretended to scan the table of contents of a random book I plucked off the shelf. Just because I considered myself off the market didn’t mean I couldn’t admire the goods, right? He wasn’t the kind of man you find on the cover of romance novels, but there was something appealing about him. Enough to send a shiver down my spine—or was that the air conditioning kicking in? In any case, the truth was, I preferred a man who didn’t look like he spent more time in front of a mirror than me.

The library was as quiet as a church sanctuary on a Tuesday morning—just the way I like it. As an ex-librarian, I appreciate the times when only a few patrons are perusing the shelves or racks of periodicals. Back then it gave me time to replace books or straighten out the magazines. Now that I’m a researcher for a writers’ co-op, these times are when I’m most productive. None of my old coworkers object when I accumulate a large pile of books on the table I stake out as my territory for the day. They know I’ll replace them in the proper places before I leave. I don’t necessarily need all these books, but they create a wall I can hide behind.

I don’t need to hide any more, at least not while Jake is doing time for assaulting an officer and resisting arrest, but old habits can be hard to break. Like wearing these coke-bottle glasses when I have a perfectly fine pair of contacts sitting in their case on my nightstand, or wearing my hair up in a bun. I can’t count the number of times friends have tried to get me to change my hairstyle, insisting men would be more interested in me if I wore it down, but I’m not trying to attract a man. After Jake, I swore off dating.

This particular day I was deep in the stacks trying to find out what John D. Rockefeller might have served at one of his dinner parties. One of the ladies decided to set her next romance in the 1920’s instead of making it a Regency. Accurate information about the regency period of England was standard fare but this was a challenge. I might even have to resort to the microfiche collection and spend hours scanning the gossip columns of the newspapers from that period. Not my favorite thing to do, but whatever. It all paid the same.

It was difficult to judge because I was sitting on the floor, but I guessed him to be taller than me. His wavy sand-brown hair was the perfect length to run my fingers through, although I had no expectation of that ever happening. His clothes—white shirt, brown slacks and brown blazer with elbow patches—reminded me of a college professor out of a movie from the 1970’s. As he turned and I could see his eyes, the cell phone is my jeans pocket vibrated. By the time I looked back up from the screen, he’d disappeared.

Curiosity nearly got the better of me and I thought about asking Janine at the front desk about him, but decided against it. If word got out I’d asked about a man, the rumor mill would start churning, and I’d never hear the end of it. My plans included a quiet evening with leftover chicken casserole, a glass of white wine, and a new mystery novel I bought last weekend. I didn’t want it interrupted with a dozen calls from my nearest and dearest friends.

I spent a few days peering into the microfiche machine to chase down a Rockefeller’s banquet menu. That’s why my contract with the co-op specifies I get paid a salary. Naturally, the lady in question changed her mind about the scene the same day I presented my findings to her, and had a different project for me. She wanted to find out about the colleges in the Bronx back then. I didn’t tell her, but I had spotted a book with the information she needed during my earlier research. Off to the library I went, laptop in tow, along with a portable hand-scanner. Though it was expensive, it’s saved me the cost of copies for several years now.

That’s when I ran into him the second time. I was doing my normal thing of walking through the 940’s with my nose in a book and I almost bumped into him. A sudden rush of cold air made me stop in my tracks and look up into a pair of eyes such a light blue they were almost gray.

“Oops, sorry about that.” I reached out to stop myself from falling, but he backed away. I managed to latch onto a shelf instead, so I didn’t end up with my face on the floor. My book did fall, and he bent over and picked it up. Without so much as a smile, he handed it to me and walked away without a word. Annoyed, I stood there with my mouth open and watched him turn the corner and vanish from my view. As I returned to my book I smelled the most unusual thing. I don’t know if it was his aftershave or what, but it made me think of freshly-turned dirt.

I stopped to talk to Janine on my way out. I wondered what she could tell me about him. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him before. She just looked at me, shook her head and rolled her eyes while I nervously fiddled with my necklace.

“Haven’t caught sight of him,” she said. “You sure you aren’t imagining things? It’s time for you to start dating again. We’ll talk about it more tonight.” Great. Exactly what I figured.

Wednesday night was girls’ night out at our hang-out of choice, the Pink Flamingo. The Flamingo is about a quarter restaurant, three-fourths bar, and has been our favorite spot since high school. The plastic birds it took its name from have faded to an almost white color from exposure to the sunshine through the front windows, but the owner has never replaced them. Not much has changed in ten years, except we no longer sit up front in the restaurant section with its beige upholstery and bright lighting. We’ve graduated to the middle section where most of the seating is barstools or wooden chairs at small tables, and only a few booths line one wall and lighting is kept to a minimum. The back is reserved for pool players and their buddies.

Mid-week, the Flamingo didn’t attract much of a crowd. A few regulars play pool, but we could gossip without constant interruptions from guys looking to pick us up. Of course, Merrilee was always their first target. Her long blond hair and supermodel body made her a guy magnet for the newbies. Too bad she plays for the other team. That leaves me, Janine and Sarah, all brunettes, to pick up after her when we are so inclined.

The three of us looked enough alike that people sometimes mistook us for sisters. We all had long hair, but I was the tallest with Janine and Sarah about two inches shorter than me. Our eyes were brown, but Sarah listed hers as hazel on her driver’s license. Janine tends to be a little paler than the rest of us but that’s because she spent more time with her nose buried in a book than even me.

But this night, no one bothered us. I think Sarah was disappointed. She dumped her last boyfriend a few weeks earlier and was in the market for a new flame. All dressed up and wearing a pair of bright red stilettos, she eyed every man that walked in, but didn’t spot anyone of interest. However, right on cue, once we had our drinks but before the food arrived, Janine brought up my mystery man.

“We’ve got to fix Harmony up pretty soon,” she giggled. “She’s imagining guys now.”

I took a big swig of my brown ale before answering. I blame my liking for it on Jake. He introduced me to the variety of beers, and pale ales bore me now. “You must have been in the bathroom when he came in or something, because he was there. Twice.”

“Well, if he hangs out in history, maybe he’s your competition,” Merrilee chimed in.

I snorted, and almost knocked over my mug. Only a quick catch kept it from toppling over and spilling its contents into my lap. “If he wants to give it a try, he’s welcome to it. He’s probably gathering information for a college paper. Or he’s a first-time author doing research for himself.” Even as I said it, I decided the idea made a lot of sense. After having worked with the writers group, I know how focused they get when they’re on a writing streak. My mystery man probably wouldn’t even remember seeing me. I tipped my chair back, took another drink of my beer and dismissed the issue. Thank heavens, the girls got distracted by a hot guy who picked that moment to swagger into the bar.