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LIZZIE WAS DRESSED in one of her finest New York designer dresses. It was powder blue and matched the color of her eyes. She sat across from Stiles. They were having Sunday brunch in their favorite restaurant. She studied him as she sipped her coffee. Setting the cup down in the saucer, she added another teaspoon of sugar. Too sweet for Stiles’ tastes.
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Lizzie said as she stirred the sugar into the black brew.
“Just enjoying the beauty of the day, and your company,” Stiles replied.
The waiter brought their eggs Benedict and they ate them before they got cold. Stiles hated cold Hollandaise sauce. There was more coffee and some fresh fruit before the meal was finished.
They finished up breakfast and then headed out into the morning sun. A boy on the corner was selling the St. Louis Republic. Stiles gave the boy a nickel for the paper and a penny tip. Across the street, people strolled in the park. Some of them pushed baby prams and some walked dogs.
“Do we have time for a stroll?” Lizzie asked, her eyes shining in the morning sunlight.
“Of course,” Stiles said, and offered her his arm.
As they walked, Stiles thought about his last night with Savage Beare. He hoped someday their paths would cross again. Their relationship was the complete opposite of the one he had shared with Paul, but still it would be good to see Savage.
Stiles let his mind wander for a bit longer, then brought his focus back to Lizzie. To anyone walking in the park, they were just another couple enjoying the late summer weather. Stiles realized that he wore a lot of masks himself. He hated that Lizzie on his arm was a mask, but it was. She was so much more to him than that, but he didn’t know how to share that with her.
“You seem so solemn today. What are you thinking about?” She nodded toward a bench nearly hidden by a large blooming bush. It was off the path in a secluded area. They sat.
“Nothing really. When I was on my way to Mercer, I had a dream about a party my father gave when I was a young man. It was a costume ball. Everyone in the room wore masks and it was sometimes difficult to comprehend who was hidden behind them. This case had several people who wore masks. Not physical ones, of course, but personality masks that hid who they truly were underneath.”
“I suppose we all do that at times,” Lizzie agreed with him.
Stiles crossed his knee and opened the paper as they sat soaking up the warmth of the sun and their friendship. A headline startled him. He sucked in a breath.
“What is it?” Lizzie asked.
Stiles showed her the article. She mumbled under her breath as she read. “Could it be?”
“I don’t know; but surely it can’t be happening again.”
Police in the city of Littleton, Illinois discovered another body yesterday evening. Similarities between the first and second bodies are clear. Young male, beaten, and strangled. The first victim has been identified as a William Peterson, a student at Bards House School. The name of the second victim is not being released until next of kin has been reached.
Bards House is a private school that caters to the sons of wealthy families from the Chicago area between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Along with its common subjects, business, foreign diplomacy, and leadership classes are provided to the young men. Approximately one hundred and fifty students attend the school, with a staff of twenty-five. The final term for the year just finished and classes will not resume until September. No comment was forthcoming from the Headmaster at this time.
Look for the next Pinkerton Man story later in 2017.
CJ BATY lives in southwest Ohio with her very patient husband and two encouraging children. Her heart however, lives in the mountains of Tennessee where she hopes to retire some day. The mountains have always provided her with inspiration and a soothing balm to the stresses of everyday life.
The dream of writing her own stories started in high school but was left on the back burner of life until her son introduced her to Fan Fiction and encouraged her to give it a try. She found that her passion for telling a story was still there and writing them down to share with others was much more thrilling than she had ever expected.
One thing she has learned from life and she is often heard to say is, “You are never too old to follow your dream!”
CJ BATY can be found on line at:
Website: http://cjbaty.blogspot.com.au/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=344242482358480&fref=ts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cbaty
~ OTHER BOOKS BY C.J. BATY ~
The Warfield Hotel Mysteries
Drifting Sands
Crashing Waves
Roaring Waters
Christmas at the Warfield Hotel (Coming December 2017)
Island Paradise
Whispers, Rumors & Lies
A Buggy Ride for Christmas
A New Dream