A Woman About Town (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book IV)

Almost Everything

"You weren't in our bed for an hour," Imogen repeated slowly. "Where were you then?"

"Well, you see–" the Mayor muttered and cleared his throat. 

He fidgeted with the string on his teabag and cleared his throat again.

"John?"

"I was... in the back, in the garden," he said grudgingly. "I was–" He looked aside and huffed.

"John?"

Imogen was feeling properly worried now. This sort of evasiveness and obvious discomfort were so uncharacteristic for the man, she simply couldn't imagine what sort of a horrible secret he was hiding.

"John!"

"I was smoking," he said in a low voice.

"What?! You... smoke?! Wait–" Imogen gawked at him. "For an hour?!"

"No, not for an hour," he answered reluctantly. "I spent about half an hour outside, just sitting there, and then I took a shower, to wash off the pong."

Imogen frowned and studied him. Judging by how guilty he looked, he wasn't lying.

"Why were you smoking?" she asked. "I assume it's a new habit. I think I would have noticed said 'pong' before."

He nodded. "I used to, when I was a student. All boys school, and all that. I gave up the habit when I went to uni. And then it just sort of... happened. I was in Abernathy about a fortnight ago, I stopped at a petrol station, and a bloke was buying them in front of me. It was just an impulse." He gave her an apologetic smile. "I didn't want to smoke around the little'uns, obviously. And I was embarrassed, if I'm honest, so I–"

"You were sneaking away in the middle of the night to smoke in the garden," Imogen said slowly. She wasn't quite sure what she was feeling. "Well, John, it is your business, of course. Just make sure Brian doesn't see you. He copies everything you do, and–"

"I should just stop," he said. "It's just– It's the wedding, and my Father's health, and my sister's elopement!"

"Wait, what about your father's health?" Imogen asked. "Is there something wrong with Mr. Oakby's health?!"

"Oh bugger," the Mayor groaned. "I forgot he wanted to keep it quiet. I'm not used to hiding anything from you! I don't– I can't–" He ruffled his hair in his habitual frustrated gesture. "I need to share things with you and discuss them! And I was told not to. And just... unnatural for me! Now look at me, blurting it out like an idiot." He rubbed his forehead. "Promise me you won't tell a soul."

"John..." Imogen felt almost taken aback by his unnecessary warning.

"Yes, sorry, darling. Of course you wouldn't." The Mayor covered Imogen's hand on the table with his large, warm palm, and squeezed her fingers. "He had his regular check-up about a month ago, and they are concerned about his heart. He's getting more tests scheduled for him. Petra doesn't know."

"Oh no..." Imogen exhaled. "I'm so sorry, John."

He nodded and sighed. "He didn't want to worry her, which is understandable. And you weren't supposed to know, because of the wedding and such. But he told me. And– I'm grateful for it. I reckon it's his way to make amends. I wasn't told when my Mother had gotten ill, and it was excruciating."

"He is trying to build a relationship with you, darling. To be closer to you," Imogen said and stroked the back of his hand comfortingly. "I won't say a word. We can pretend this conversation never happened."

He nodded again and jumped up. He busied himself with starting the kettle, although they both still had some brew left in their mugs. Imogen gave him time to recover and pull himself together.