Paint the Town Red (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book II)

Curtains and Kings

Imogen opened her eyes and stared at unfamiliar curtains. And then she realised that she had familiarised herself with said curtain when she'd bought them the day before.

When all her belongings had been packed, it'd turned out they didn't have enough curtains; and many, many other necessities for a comfortable family life for four people were amiss as well. So, the Mayor did what seemed the most logical - to him - and simply had gotten in his car and driven to Mr. Spragg's shop. The commotion he'd created inside - between Mr. Spragg's unbound enthusiasm of a salesman, and his wife's well deserved reputation of the biggest gossip in Fleckney Woulds - had been enough for Imogen to beg for mercy after they'd walked out with the curtains, a long list of furniture pieces that were to be delivered to the Firs, and a large cushion the Mayor carried under his arm. Further shopping had to be postponed till the weekend.

The pillow currently lounged on the floor where Imogen had hurled it in a hurry, while pushing the Mayor on his back onto the bed. Imogen threw the cushion an apologetic smile.

"Imogen!" Brian's voice rang somewhere a few doors away, and then Kathy said something loudly in a tense voice, probably shushing him.

There was some noise, and then everything went quiet. The Mayor rolled on his stomach, and his long heavy arm lay across Imogen's stomach. He pulled her closer and burrowed his nose into her ribs. Imogen giggled.

"Excellent," he murmured and sighed contentedly.

"John," Imogen called and ogled his cheekbone, the only part of the Mayor unobscured by the beard or a duvet. "John, we need to get up," she murmured and ran her fingers through his - wonderfully silky, thick, glossy - curls.

"I'm up," he mumbled and made a cosy snuffly noise into her. "Do it again..."

Imogen needed to get up, and make breakfast, and the little'uns' lift needed to be arranged, and her reputation of the Mayor's doxy needed to be worried about. Instead, she slid down under the duvet and pressed into the man. His usual octopus hug followed. She tangled her fingers into his luxurious waves and scraped his head just the way he fancied it.

"Do we have time for—" he asked without opening his eyes.

"No, but there's always tonight," Imogen reassured and tucked a long soft lock behind his ear.

One blue eye opened. "And tomorrow," he murmured.

She nodded. "And the day after tomorrow."

Imogen smiled, and he pulled her into a deep kiss. Imogen made a happy purring noise and arched into him. There was indeed the next day, and the day after, and more, and more days - and nights - and he was warm, and their new bed was lovely - and everything was well.

***

"I need to meet up with Petra," Imogen said gingerly, and the Mayor froze with his butter and Marmite toast bit between his teeth.

"I was supposed to update her on the investigation yesterday, but then the move happened," Imogen continued. "And I texted her and she seemed... distracted."

The Mayor still wasn't moving.

"And it's not that I don't want to include you in the investigation," Imogen rushed to reassure. "And I'm actually properly happy that you've agreed to help me. Well, offered to help. To think of it, it was more of an order," she drew out pensively.

The children stopped eating a few seconds ago and were now staring at her. The Mayor finally closed his jaws on his toast with a loud crunch.

"But she's still in the— in your family home," Imogen said, "and I just don't think you want to go, with your Father possibly being there. So I thought I'd go and visit her, and tell her you're now involved in the investigation, of course, and then—"