Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity Natalie Brianne (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

it all was. There was a piano by the window. She sat on the piano bench, looking outside through the curtains. Not the best view, but not a bad one either. She looked back into the room. A few couches, an armchair, a large fireplace, and a door that she believed led into the kitchen. She could hear Byron moving dishes around in there. She moved closer to the window and sat on the window seat, her fingers brushing another book. A journal lay open on the seat. Picking it up she read the last few lines.

The girl at the cafe is named Mira Blayse. Scotland Yard had nothing for me today. I placed an ad in the newspaper to get a secretary. Hopefully they can help you keep things straight. Remember to write a note to remind yourself.

She closed it and moved into the kitchen. Dishes had been piled in the sink and a chemistry set sat on the table along with several other books and papers.

“Byron, I think I found it!” She set it on the only clear space on the counter. He whirled towards her.

“Thank you.” He picked up the journal to read it. He read a few pages then whipped his head back up to her. “Wait. How do you know my name?”

“We met yesterday. And the day before. And the day before.”

“How well do we know each other?”

“We only met recently. I would say we are acquaintances at most.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to the journal. It occurred to Mira that he must read it every day as well. It was a thick journal, but he shot through the pages, skimming through a shortened version of each day. He mumbled here and there and went out into the sitting room. She followed him, curiosity bubbling at the surface, and sat on the piano bench again. After about fifteen minutes, he closed the journal.

“Consider yourself hired. What was your name again?”

“Samira Blayse.”

“Ah! Mira. Right.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t exactly come here for the secretarial job.”

“Well, do you want it? You are the most qualified for the job it would seem.”

She paused in thought. “How am I qualified?”

“Well, the job entails helping me to remember the day to day. Making sure I read my journal. Keeping me professional in front of clients when I forget things. That sort of thing. Seeing as I have…” He paused to look at the journal then cleared his throat. “Seen you every day for the last three days at least—”

“Six days actually,” she interrupted. “This is day seven.”

“Yes, then you know a little more about me than anyone else and you have an excellent memory yourself.”

She thought about it for a moment. She really didn’t need a job. Of course, this would be a change from monotony, and aside from that if she worked with him, wouldn’t she technically be working with Scotland Yard? And they could work together on the case! She nodded. “I’ll take the position.”

“Excellent. Let me make a note of that.” He took out a pencil and added that to the journal. He closed it when he finished and looked up at her, studying her again. She averted her gaze to the window.

“Well Mira, you’ll have to deal with me now. We can discuss salary later. I would like it if you could get here early each morning.” He stood and moved over to her, taking something out of his pocket. He took her hand and placed a set of keys into it. “Mornings are hard for me, and I probably won’t remember you. You can come right in, make sure I read my journal, help me stay organized, etcetera. You’ll be listening in on cases, so I expect you to act with discretion.”

“Anything else I should know?” She looked up at him.

“Well, other than the fact that I forget every day, I don’t think much else is important.”

“What were the notes for?”

“Ah, those were a sort of exercise. I’d follow the clues until I made it to Scotland Yard. A doctor said it might help my memory to recover. Obviously, it was of little use,” he said, almost bitterly. “And leaving those notes in the elements was not the wisest course of action. I realize that now.”

She nodded. The pieces of the puzzle fit together now. The notes, him forgetting her, why he would always leave.

“And the airship operator case is the one you are currently working on?”

“Indeed, it is. Although I seem to have misplaced that case file.”

“I’m sure we can find it.”

“Hmm. Yes. But first, would you like a cup of tea?”

He made his way into the kitchen and she followed. He filled up a kettle and placed it on the hob before leaning against the counter and looking at her. She shifted her stance, trying to squelch her unease. Then he turned his gaze to the opposite side of the kitchen, still silent. She usually didn’t mind silence, but this kind was unnerving. She tried to catch glimmers of what others thought but for whatever reason, Byron was impossible to read.

It was then that she realized she was the one staring now. Her cheeks heated, and she looked away. He cleared his throat.

“Mira, while I am a detective, I can’t quite figure something out.”

“What?”

“Why would a fashionable young lady like yourself look into a secretarial job?”

“Oh. Um…” She paused formulating her answer. After all, she hadn’t exactly come looking for the job to begin with. The kettle started singing, and he turned back towards the stove to prepare it.

“Curiosity?” The word escaped from her tongue. He raised an eyebrow as he placed items on the tea tray.

“That sounded more like a question than an answer.”

She followed him back into the living room and sat on a couch opposite him. “Well Byron, I didn’t exactly come here looking for the job. I came to get help with a case of my own.”

Byron frowned. “And you ended up being my secretary? I don’t remember