The Toast of the Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book III)

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When Imogen opened the door to the Firs, some sort of an unpleasant shiver ran down her spine. Perhaps, it was the utter silence that seemed so unnatural in their home, or the darkness in all the rooms and the kitchen that struck her as a sign most foreboding.

"Hello?" she shouted into the cottage, but her voice came out weak and trembling.

She hung her coat, took off her wellies, and minced inside. First, she assumed the drawing room was empty, and she felt puzzled, since it was rather late, and she doubted the Mayor, being the ever so responsible parent he was, would take the little'uns out at this hour - but then she saw the dim light of his mobile. The Mayor was stretched on their sofa, in all his impressive length, his phone in front of his face. Judging by the jingle coming out of the gizmo, he was watching TikToks, which was a truly alarming omen. The man was only prone to mindless scrolling when utterly and completely distressed. Otherwise, in the rare moments when he didn't work, or spent time with her children, he could be seen with an Asimov, Lem, Herbert, or even more likely, Le Guin.

"Evening," Imogen said and approached the sofa. "Is everything alright?"

His posh upbringing wouldn't allow him to ignore her, so he gave her a quick look, muttered his 'good evening,' and went back to the video of a large canine running with a stick in its teeth.

"Where are Kathy and Brian?" Imogen looked at her watch. She had made it back by bedtime, just as she'd hoped, but it didn't seem any Hobbit reading was taking place.

"Imogen! Is that you?" Kathy's voice rang from upstairs.

"We've already read the book," the Mayor said, this time his gaze fixed on a person talking to themselves, wearing two different outfits.

"Oh that's a pity," Imogen said. "I'll go say good night."

The Mayor nodded, without turning to face her. Upstairs, she found Kathy and Brian, their teeth brushed, faces washed, and clean pyjamas on, already tucked in their beds. Imogen ruffled their silky heads, gave them plenty of kisses and squishes, listened to their joyous report on how 'awesome' their day had been - including a trip to Abernathy to a book shop, a visit to an ice cream place, and then plenty of playing in the park and their small yard with the Mayor. After distributing more cuddles and smooches, Imogen turned off the light in the childrens' room, leaving on the night light shaped like a stegosaurus - Kathy's favourite dinosaur - and went downstairs.

The Mayor hadn't moved - and suddenly Imogen remembered that he'd wanted to talk about something in the morning, and the topic seemed to have made the man rather uneasy. Imogen sat near his feet, in jolly stripy socks, and decided it was time to woman up.

"So, what's up?" she asked the Mayor, and he sighed, but then lowered his phone onto his chest, screen down. "Is something... wrong?" she asked, bracing herself.

He opened his mouth, seemingly to argue that nothing was wrong, but then he closed it and sighed again. Imogen was feeling increasingly less like she'd just had the most amazing day in the company of two intelligent, talented, creatively fulfilled women with whom she had so much in common - and more like the old Imogen Fox, poor, obscure, and little, given not too plain, since her sense of self-worth didn't come from her association with the Mayor but from her own successes. And still, up until recently, she'd been well accustomed to her happiness and comfort depending on other people's moods: first, her sister, then Imogen's teachers, and then the Mayor himself as her boss. The dark cloud of the man's umbrage, given, possibly not aimed at her, made it hard to breathe.

The Mayor put the phone aside on their coffee table and rubbed his forehead with his long fingers, cringing in obvious discomfort - clearly, physical, but perhaps, also of the emotional nature.