P.I. Daddy's Personal Mission. Beth Cornelison

Not today. I’m here on business matters, looking for information for a case I’m working on.”

      He could tell by the wrinkle in her brow that his working on the weekend away from Patrick bothered her. A jab of guilt prodded him to add, “But yesterday, Patrick and I took in the MSU game and spent most of the evening playing Monopoly together.”

      “Oh, good.” Her lips curved, although the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure he enjoyed that.”

      “I hope so. You made some valid points the other day at school.”

      She blinked as if surprised, and Peter chuckled. “Despite how it may have seemed, I was listening. I heard what you said about Patrick’s withdrawal and falling grades.”

      She held up a finger. “Um, slipping. I believe I said his grades were slipping.”

      He scratched his chin. “The difference beings…?”

      “His grades are still good. They’ve come down a bit, just a few points. But falling to me is more dramatic. Big drop, by several letter grades.”

      Peter chuckled. “You are a master of nuance, aren’t you? Incident not accident. Slipping not falling.”

      She flushed a deeper shade of pink, and Peter’s libido gave him another hard kick.

      “I’m not trying to be difficult. I just believe in saying what I mean. Exactly what I mean.”

      Mary caught his attention from across the room. With an impatient look, she held up the microfiche Lily had retrieved for her.

      “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your studying.” Peter motioned to her books then took a step back. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for shouting at you.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Walsh.” She held out her hand, and he grasped her fingers. Her handshake was firm and confident, and the feel of her warm hand in his sent a jolt of awareness through him.

       Ms. Navarre, Dad. She’s not married.

      As he turned to walk away, Peter hesitated. The woman was beautiful, intelligent and single. “Uh, Ms. Navarre…”

      Good grief. Suddenly he was thirteen again and asking Cindy Worthington to the Valentine dance. He was a geeky ball of jittery nerves and sweating palms. He hadn’t asked a woman on a first date in more than thirteen years. Not since he’d asked Katie out for the first time in high school. Since Katie’s death, he’d preferred to be alone, to focus on Patrick and losing himself in his work.

      But somehow Lisa Navarre was different from the other women in Honey Creek. She’d managed to stir something deep inside him that had been dormant since Katie died—an interest in getting back into life.

      She raised an expectant gaze, waiting for him to continue.

      His heart drummed so loudly in his ears, he was sure she could hear it. “I was wondering if you might be free next Saturday to—”

      Wham!

      A loud thump reverberated through the library, drawing his attention to the front desk. When he saw the source of the noise and the ensuing commotion, he tensed. Maisie Colton was not only a Colton, reason enough for Peter to steer clear of her, but the Vogue-beautiful woman was well-known in town as being eccentric and unpredictable.

      Maisie angrily slammed another stack of books on the counter, and Lily Masterson rushed over to quiet Maisie.

      “No respect!” Maisie steamed, full voice. “Do you know how many times I’ve called that damn show? And they still won’t talk to me!”

      Lily murmured something quietly to Maisie, who retorted, “The Dr. Sophie show, of course. My God, this town has enough dirty secrets and public scandals to fill the show’s programming for weeks! But the ninny they have working in PR not only wouldn’t listen to me, but told me to stop calling or she’d contact the police!” Maisie tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder and scowled darkly.

      Peter gritted his teeth, mentally applauding the Dr. Sophie show’s PR rep for recognizing a kook when they heard one and having the guts to stand up to Maisie. Not too many people in Honey Creek did. She was, after all, a Colton, and Coltons held a great deal of power in the town.

      He knew he should ignore Maisie’s outburst as most of the other library patrons were, but watching Maisie Colton was a little like watching a train wreck. Despite knowing better, you just can’t look away.

      In hushed tones, Lily tried to calm Maisie, but she bristled and railed at Lily, “Don’t tell me what to do! This is a public building, and I have every right to be here and speak my mind.”

      Mary edged up to the front counter to give Lily backup, and Peter groaned. This could get ugly.

      Mary spoke quietly to Maisie, and, as he’d predicted, Maisie rounded on his sister in a heartbeat. He heard a hateful, derogatory term thrown at his sister, and he’d had enough. Turning briefly to Lisa Navarre, Peter said, “Excuse me. I have to go.” He hustled up to the front desk, where Maisie was bristling like an angry cat, flinging insults at Mary.

      “…Walsh slut like your sister! Lucy ruined my brother’s life the instant she hooked her talons into Damien and seduced him. I pity poor Jake Pierson. You damn Walshes are all the same!” Maisie huffed indignantly.

      Peter stepped up behind his sister, not saying anything but drilling Maisie with a warning look.

      “And you!” She aimed a shaking finger at him. “You killed Katie, same as if you’d pulled a trigger.”

      Peter stiffened, bile churning in his gut. “That’s enough, Maisie. Go home.”

      “She died having your baby! Or don’t you care? Your father sure didn’t care how many women he hurt, how many hearts he broke, how many lives he ruined!”

      Mary gasped softly, and Peter sensed more than saw the shudder that raced through his sister. He stepped forward, prepared to bodily throw Maisie from the library if needed, just as another woman brushed past him to confront Maisie.

      Lisa Navarre. Startled, Peter caught his breath, as if watching a fawn step in front of a semi-trailer.

      “It’s Ms. Colton, right?” Lisa smiled warmly and held her hand out for Maisie to shake. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I taught your son Jeremy a couple years ago.”

      Maisie gaped at Lisa suspiciously, then shook her hand. “Yeah. I remember you. Jeremy loved your class.”

      “Well, I loved having him in my class. He’s such a sweet boy. Very bright and well-mannered. I know you must be proud of him.”

      Maisie sent an awkward glance to Lily, Mary and Peter, then tugged her sleeve to straighten her coat. “I am. Jeremy is the world to me.”

      Lisa smiled brightly. “I can imagine.” Then, gesturing with a glance to Mary and Peter, Lisa continued. “Somehow I doubt he’d be happy if he knew you’d been yelling at these nice people, though.”

      Maisie lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with contempt. “There is nothing nice about these or any of the Walshes.” Nailing an arctic glare on Mary, Maisie added, “I’m glad your father is dead. One less Walsh for the world to suffer.”

      Peter had never struck a woman in his life, but Maisie tempted him to break his code of honor. He squared his shoulders and would have moved in on the hateful woman if Lisa hadn’t spread her hand at her side in a subtle signal asking him to wait.

      “Ms. Colton, the town is justifiably upset over the murder of Mark Walsh. Emotions are running high for everyone. I know there is a lot of bad blood between your families, but this kind of name-calling and finger-pointing serves no good. Think about Jeremy. I’m sure the last thing he needs is to hear from his friends that you were causing a scene here today.”

      Maisie