Page 37 of Decoding Morse

I’d had enough. Assassins were coming for Amelia. I didn’t have time for this crotchety old woman’s bullshit accusationswhen I should be back at the fire station hunting down the person who’d sent them.

I rose to my feet, dropping my napkin on my plate. “Excuse me, ma’am. We won’t waste any more of your time.”

Specks’s eyes widened, but he and Prospect joined me. Nodding my thanks for their solidarity, I turned to march around the table, but Carol’s hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist.

“Wait.”

I met her gaze, letting her see my irritation. “For what? I won’t sit here while you throw dirt on Amelia’s name.”

A protest formed on Carol’s lips, but I cut her off.

“She would never put your life in danger. That’s not the type of person she is. If we were holding her for ransom, there’s not a thing we could do to force her to call you and ask you to let us into your home.”

Amelia was nothing if not loyal, and hearing anyone claim otherwise—especially this woman she’d been so concerned about—made my blood boil.

Carol considered me for a handful of heartbeats before huffing out a breath. “I suppose you’re right. Is she at least safe?”

Relieved, I nodded. “Yes. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

A uniformed maid rushed in, holding up a cordless house phone. “Excuse me, Mrs. Landry. Mr. Landry is insisting on speaking to you and?—”

When she reached the table, Carol snatched the phone from her hand and spoke into the receiver. “I am currently indisposed but will call you back at my earliest convenience.”

Then she ended the call and handed the phone back to the maid, who stared at her in stunned silence.

Mrs. Landry shot her a glare that would make a decorated general piss their pants. “You may leave now.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” She scampered off.

Mrs. Landry started getting up, so I helped her out of her seat before offering her my arm again.

She hooked her arm in mine and paused long enough to catch her breath before patting my biceps with her free hand. “Now. Amelia promised me a game of chess. Take me back to the study and show me what you’ve got.”

Despite the what-the-fuck-is-going-on looks Specks and Prospect kept throwing in my direction, I complied. When we reached the study, an antique wooden chessboard was set up and waiting for us. I took one look at the intricate hand-carved pieces before excusing myself to wash my hands.

When I returned, Specks and Prospect lingered by the giant windows, staring at the view. I took the chair across the chess set from Mrs. Landry and studied the board, scooping up my wooden queen to admire the craftsmanship. It wasn’t a traditional piece. Instead, the carved woman, garbed in a long crimson dress under a matching fur-lined cloak, was hand-painted with a level of detail I struggled to comprehend. She had eyelashes, for fuck’s sake. Returning the queen to the board, I admired the rest of the pieces. My side was garbed in red and black, and Carol’s pieces wore shades of yellow and blue, each in impeccable condition.

“Gorgeous set.”

“Yes. It’s a one-of-a-kind Ottoman Empire set. There are replicas out there, but my Henry commissioned this set directly from a highly sought-after Turkish craftsman he met while deployed. Win, and it’s yours.”

This woman had just accused us of being schemers, robbers, and kidnappers, and now she was offering up a prized chess set. Hand to heart, I will never understand women. I didn’t respond, but had no intention of winning or accepting the prize.

The nurse returned, hooked Carol back up to her oxygen tank, and dumped a pile of pills into her hand. Rather thanblindly popping them into her mouth, Carol scrutinized each one before individually stuffing them between her lips. She washed them down with a glass of water before shooing the nurse away.

“Go. Clear out and leave us in peace.”

The maid finished setting up the tea service next to the chessboard and then scurried away.

When the help left, Carol sighed. “Vultures, the lot of them. They keep circling, waiting for me to die.” She grinned, and there was a twinkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “But not today.”

I couldn’t help but grin back. “No, ma’am.”

“Morse, be a dear and get me the little black book from the table by the bookshelf.” She gestured in the direction.

I stood and approached the coffee table in the corner. “The one with a cross on it?”

“Yes.”

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