Three days had come and gone since Iris had last seen Oliver. She edged her way out of the door, only to be nearly incapacitated by the car of one, very belligerent, constable. "Watch yourself, Lady!" shouted the man, quite to Iris's chagrin.
"With due respect, sir," Iris began, the slightest trace of haughtiness in her voice. " it was you who nearly offed me with your reckless maneuvering."
"Why, I never," The constable gasped. Iris paid him little mind. Despite the fact Iris was quickly growing wry of the man's less-than-cordial attitude, true to her nature, her curiosity overwhelmed her.
"What are you doing here anyway and in such a tizzy no less?" The constable looked down at her, slightly affronted by her forwardness. Just as he began to answer Iris interrupted him.
"Anyway, what happened to constable Tatum that you would be here in his place?" Iris queried.
"Constable? Why I'm disgusted by the mere idea, the mere suggestion! No, young miss," At this Iris made an indignant noise, (the nerve of him)! "I am a private detective." At this, the man, or "detective" puffed up his chest, setting his shoulders back, though Iris couldn't spot any major discrepancy between that and a constable.
"Well then, detective..." Iris paused, looking for a surname.
"Eldred, Detective Eldred," he supplied, promptly.
"Ah, yes. Detective Eldred, if I may ask, what is an esteemed private detective like yourself doing in a town such as this?"
Looking quite pleased with the way Iris addressed him, Eldred answered and Iris had the uncomfortable impression that he was trying to keep a trace of euphoria out of his tone. "Murder, at the big house."
At this, Iris blanched. "Say it isn't so! The big house?"
Iris could feel the cold hands of dread seizing her heart and though its pulse sped at an alarming rate, she felt as if her heart had stalled in her chest.
"Yes," Eldred replied, impatience coloring his voice, "the lady Oliver Loman was courting."
Iris's heart rate slowed considerably at hearing that it was not Oliver that was dead, but rather the, quite horrible in Iris's opinion, lover.
"But why ever would they need a private detective?" Iris asked, still in shock.
"To prove it isn't young Mr. Loman who's done it, 'course."
YOU ARE READING
Iris
RomanceHer name was elegant, her past was not. In clicking on this book you have found a story of unrequited infatuation. A story of a young woman trying to navigate her way through 1913's ever-changing world, as well as her own emotions. And the story of...
