February Fever by Jess Lourey Page A

that it almost appeared bronze. “Yup.”
    â€œWhere’re you traveling to?”
    He set his menu on the table and studied all three of us before speaking. Up close, he had a definite Nick Nolte vibe going on. “I’m traveling to—”
    â€œPortland,” Mrs. Berns finished for him.
    A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he glanced at her sideways. “And how do you know that?”
    She shrugged. “Lucky guess. And Mira here and me, we’re private investigators.”
    I groaned inwardly. This would not end well.
    Terry gave her his full attention. “That so?”
    â€œYes, it is.” She dug in her purse and pulled out the flyer for the PI conference and beamed her wrist lamp on it. “International gathering. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
    He chuckled, a deep raspy sound that threatened to become a cough. “Heard of it? I’m going to it.”
    â€œYou’re a private investigator, too?” Jed asked, his voice awed. When I’d told him I was taking classes to get my PI licensure, he’d treated me like I’d just told him I was secretly Wonder Woman. I had to love his admiration for all things he was unfamiliar with.
    Terry reached into the inside pocket of his jacket as if to pull something out but stopped himself. “I am. Have been for ten years. My partner usually goes to the cons, but he had family issues this year, so I’m going out. Hate to fly, so here I am.”
    â€œI hate to fly, too,” I said.
    â€œThat’s official, then,” Mrs. Berns said. “Two dumbasses at one table. That’s over quota.”
    He smiled at her. His teeth were surprisingly white. I sniffed again, discreetly—definitely cigarette smoke, and for sure coming from him. He must use whiteners and wash his hands frequently.
    â€œYou think it’s stupid not to fly?”
    Mrs. Berns clicked her wrist lamp back into place. “Yes. I also think most dogs have four legs, the sun rises in the east, and Dick Sargent was the best Darrin on Bewitched .” She glanced up at the waiter who had just approached our table. “Looks like it’s time to order.”
    â€œReed!” I said, recognizing the temporary porter who had made our dining reservation for us. “Long day for you?”
    â€œNot too long,” he said, smiling. “Car Eleven, is that right?”
    â€œNot me,” Terry said. “I’m coach class. All the cars were taken by the time I booked.”
    â€œI’m coach class too,” Jed said.
    â€œAll right,” Reed said, pulling three slips of paper out of this apron pocket. “Three separate bills. Ladies, you order what you like. Everything but liquor is included in your room, and that includes desserts.” He smiled at Mrs. Berns.
    â€œI see what you’re doing,” she said, winking. “Trying to play to the weaknesses of an old lady and charm her into your bedroom.”
    My eyes widened. Reed played it cool and winked back at her. “You let me know if it’s working, you hear?”
    She smiled. “Will do.”
    The four of us ordered and were about to settle back into conversation when a ruckus toward the rear of the dining car caught our attention. I turned to see Ms. Wrenshall yelling at Reed. The other three people at her table, strangers to her I presumed, appeared mortified.
    â€œI did not order chocolate ice cream! I ordered vanilla, and a cream puff warmed up to go!” In her white furry dress coat and black pantsuit, I thought she looked a bit like a cream puff to go herself. And it might have been Mrs. Berns’s reference to Bewitched , but I noticed Ms. Wrenshall also resembled Agnes Moorehead, the actress who’d played Endora on the show.
    Reed was making placating gestures toward Ms. Wrenshall, but because he was using his inside voice, I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
    â€œShe looks like