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

Walking Papers

"I haven't assigned anything," he stated in a levelled tone. "Fellowes was... worried."

"Worried?" Petra exclaimed. "Does the woman have any other feelings towards me other than a deep rooted derision? I don't want to be dramatic but I'm getting a very much Mrs. Danvers vibe from her."

"You left the mansion on your crunches. She felt it wasn't her place to stop you, but she called me and expressed her concern," the Titan pretty much paraphrased his previous lines.

Petra eyed him suspiciously.

"And I think it's quite obvious she had every reason to be concerned. You can hardly move," he added and stretched his hand to her. "Perhaps, you could be convinced to swallow your pride of an independent modern woman and accept my help?"

"Could you run and fetch a wheelbarrow?" Petra asked, and he chuckled.

"I do have a golf cart. Or perhaps, I could borrow some sort of a vehicle from the gardeners."

Petra hobbled to the nearest bench and sat down heavily. The Titan joined her.

"I truly wouldn't worry about Fellowes," he said. "She simply looks after my... interests."

"So, caring for me is like feeding your fish," Petra deadpanned, and he laughed quietly and looked down at his hands.

Petra looked as well. He had the most elegant fingers, strong, long, and dry, with looked after short nails. On his ring finger he wore a double banded ring, with some dark red stone, and a signet ring with the Oakby crest on the same hand. Considering how boring and faceless all his clothes were, Petra felt endlessly curious about the rings. The previous night she'd lightly touched them, while his hand had rested on the pillow, near his sleeping face. He was a restless sleeper, and she'd had to be careful. She'd realised that the double ring was in actuality two bands: a wedding one, and the stone one was simply sitting on top of it. It seemed to be of a slightly smaller size.

"Surely Fellowes didn't need to worry. I'm sure I wouldn't be attacked on your land. No one would dare," Petra said, forcing herself to stop ogling him. But oh the things these hands were capable of!

"I've been under the impression you hardly need help to injure yourself," he said and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "There are ditches, and... stones, and lumps on the lawn."

"Your lawn has no lumps," she snorted. "And to think of it, there is no fish in the house! Besides the exceptional tilapia we had for supper yesterday. And no dogs. Or cats. Not even a hamster. I find everyone needs a pet, at some point in their life at least. I grew up with three giant dogs, and they made me a better person, not as good as they were, of course. Did you have any pets growing up? Oh what am I asking?! I saw your childhood photos, the horrid uniform, never home even on Christmas. I truly hope you bought the Mayor a puppy when he was small."

"No, but my wife had terriers. Some small ones, whatever was in fashion at the time," he answered, avoiding looking at her.

"Did she like dogs?" she asked, encouraging this unusual openness from him.

"I suppose so."

His gaze remained distant. Petra suspected that he wasn't actually interested in the landscape - as charming as it was - lying before them. He perhaps wasn't exactly comfortable saying what he was saying. Thus, Petra listened very attentively.

"I seem to recall a few of them always running around," he said. "We never spoke of them. Or of–" he cleared his throat. "Of other matters. She had her own interests. So did I." He exhaled slowly. "Are you feeling any better? Shall we go back?"