Randall #03 - Sherwood Ltd. by Anne R. Allen

too.” The little dog inched toward the futon. “Much, say a proper hello to the Manners Doctor.” Mrs. Winchester pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the way and the dog approached me with a businesslike sniff. I reached out and gave him a pat between his ears.
    “We thought you’d be staying at the Miller’s, like Mr. Trask. He’s gone, isn’t he? Pity. I quite liked him.”
    “You liked him?” Maybe Mrs. Winchester could enlighten me about my mysterious disappearing countryman. “What was he like?”
    “Friendly. But then Yanks are, generally, aren’t they? Don’t put on airs. I don’t know why Much behaves so badly around them.”
    “Much? That’s the dog’s name?”
    “Too Much is what the former owner called him, I suppose because of his eating habits. He came with the building. Peter liked the name because of Robin Hood’s comrade—Much the Miller’s son. He’s a good little ratter. I’ve just had him up to the house for the weekend for a visit to the vet and a nice bath.” She turned toward the door. “I’ll get you a cup of tea. I’ve got the kettle boiling in the canteen. What a mess I had to clean in there this morning. Looks as if the ceiling fell in. Good job I got here early.”
    My watch said ten-fifteen. Mr. Weems was arriving at half eleven, but was that ten-thirty or eleven-thirty? I had no idea. I jumped out of bed and scrambled into my Burberry outfit, tossing my scattered things into my suitcase as I dressed.
    I was annoyed that Peter hadn’t warned me that Mr. Weems used this office—almost as annoyed as I was at Peter’s abrupt disappearance.
    I ran my fingers through my uncombed hair and peeked out the door. Luckily nobody else seemed to be working in spite of the late hour.
    I made a dash for the loo and tried to make myself presentable as quickly as possible. On the way back to the office, I nearly collided with a pretty, plump young woman emerging from the canteen with two steamy mugs. She wore heavy make-up and slightly too-tight jeans.
    “You’ll be the Manners Doctor,” she said. “I’m Meggy Poole.” She handed me one of the mugs. “We gave you milk but no sugar. But I’ve the artificial stuff if you like.” She took a tiny container from her pocket that dispensed a tablet of Splenda.
    I accepted the tea gratefully.
    “Had a bit of excitement over the weekend, did you?” Meggy hoisted herself to sit on the edge of one of the big tables. “With that smelly old man with the eye patch? Vera Winchester says the ceiling of the canteen fell on him. How did that happen?”
    I looked at my Tinker Bell watch. Ten-thirty. No time for chat.
    “Peter was quite the swashbuckling hero. I’m sure he’ll be eager to tell everybody the story.”
    Meggy gave a throaty laugh. “That won’t be easy since he’s sunning himself on the Croatian Riviera, ain’t he?
    I didn’t get the joke. “No. Peter’s right here—or he was last night…”
    Meggy’s feet dangled in her sturdy shoes. “He ain’t here now. Rushed to the airport at seven this morning. Him and Ratko. Vera said they’re off to Pula.”
    My head pounded. “Peter and Ratko went to…Pula? Is that in Croatia? Why would they go there?” This didn’t make sense. Peter had all those plans for my book publicity this week. The girl must be confused.
    “Dunno, but they were out the door when I came in for my shift. Peter said him and Ratko had important business.” She snorted. “Business with some tart, like as not.”
    Humiliation and anger constricted my throat as I stared at the Tinker Bell wings pointing to the time. I had to get my things out of the office. Where I was to take them, I didn’t know.
    I didn’t know anything except that Peter Sherwood had abandoned me.

Chapter 20—Damsel in the Dungeon
     
    I looked hard at Meggy, half hoping she was making some sort of joke.
    “Peter and Ratko—when will they be back?” I tried not to sound hysterical as I set down my tea and worked at