The Temporary Detective

Chapter Thirty-Five

The rhythm of the subway usually lulled Isobel into a trance, even when she was being crushed by her fellow riders. But as she rode home from work Thursday night, she found herself replaying her conversation with Frank instead of zoning out.

They'd all been up for promotion: Frank, Paula, Stan and, if Frank was successful, Doreen. So clearly Doreen had a stake in it, although she couldn't have had much influence if her pleas on Stan's behalf ultimately fell flat. But the really interesting question was why Doreen had been pushing for Stan in the first place.

Why, all these years after the annulment of their marriage, would she get him a job at the bank and push for his promotion, while at the same time, she was blackmailing him—and for more money than anyone else? What was he paying her for? Was he trying to keep her quiet, or had she promised Stan something else—something that was worth $5,000 a month to him?

She was still lost in thought as she ambled down Fiftieth Street toward her apartment, although she had strayed from office politics to her audition for Two by Two. She was imagining herself saying nothing more than the title of her song, when she practically bumped into the wiry, bespectacled, backpacked frame standing on her stoop.

"You should be more aware walking down the streets of New York!"

As always, Percival was right. Isobel clutched her brother in a fierce hug, which he submitted to patiently. She pulled away and glanced guiltily at her watch. "Am I late? You haven't been waiting here long, have you? I should have left you a key."

"I just got here. My plane was a little early, if you can believe it." He looked up and down the shady, tree-lined street. "Nice block."

"Believe me, it gets more colorful after dark. Come on in."

He followed her up the three flights of stairs. "I wasn't kidding, Iz. You should be more careful walking around. You can't zone out on the street like that."

"I wasn't zoning, I was thinking."

"Same thing." Percival shrugged off his backpack and looked around the apartment. Isobel had stayed up the night before trying to straighten up, but there was only so much one could do with two women's assorted belongings and limited storage space.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Percival asked doubtfully. "I think our bathroom at home is bigger than this."

"Midwest small isn't the same as New York small. That's something I know about New York that you don't," she said playfully. "Delphi's got five sisters. She can deal. And you know I don't mind." She hugged him again. "I really missed you."

Percival squeezed back. "I missed you too. You seem well, though."

"I am," said Isobel, almost surprised at how true it was. "I have a callback tomorrow night from that audition I botched the first time around."

Percival threw back his head and laughed. "Right! Remind me what you did...lectured them about the differences between auditioning and performing, was it?"

"Shut up!" She gave him a good-natured punch on the arm. "At least they're seeing me again."

The key turned in the lock and Delphi shoved open the door, struggling with a heavy bag of groceries. Percival jumped up to help her.

"I got 'em," he said, deftly taking the bag from her. "I'm Percival," he said over his shoulder. "Nice to meet you."

Delphi pushed her curls out of her eyes. "I know. And you don't need to curry favor, I already said you could stay." She turned to Isobel and stage-whispered, "Oh my God, he really does look like Harry Potter."