Free When the Sun Goes Down by Gwynne Forster Page A

I’m already blessed. It took me a while to figure that out, but I know it now.”
    He hoped he’d helped Mirna raise her status in her friend’s eyes. No one liked to be always on the receiving end of largesse. In a good friendship, giving was reciprocal. Whistling in contentment, he went to the room he used for an office—the smallest of the three bedrooms—took out his computer, and began designing a game in which the children of a community found a way to welcome a foreign-born child who didn’t speak English. It wouldn’t be an easy task, but if he could pull it off, it would be a big seller.
    When the phone rang, he saw Lissa’s number in the caller ID and didn’t answer. He’d switched his focus to Caroline. As far as he was concerned, Lissa did not exist. A thought struck him. He’d better find out what Carson Montgomery was made of, and he did not intend to wait until the man hurt his sister. He dialed the Ellicott City Police Department.
    “Sergeant Fowler, please.” He waited a few seconds. “Matt, this is Gunther. Edgar hired Carson Montgomery, a detective, to find our father’s will. Do you know anything about this guy?”
    “Sure. He’s first-rate. Excellent reputation. The department uses him when we’re in a pinch. Fine man, too. That must be the smartest thing Edgar’s done in years.”
    “That was my estimation, Matt, but I needed to be sure.”
    “You mean your old man had a will and put it where no one could find it? That’s stupid.”
    “Mean is more like it. Thanks for your help.”
    “Any time, friend.”
    He got busy on his computer game. Thank goodness he didn’t have to worry about Shirley and Carson Montgomery. If the man was decent, Shirley could definitely hold her own with him. Don’t be too sure about that. Men are different from women, especially good-looking ones .
     
    When the phone rang at six-thirty, Shirley raced to answer it. “Hello.” She hated that she sounded out of breath.
    “May I please speak with Ms. Shirley Farrell?”
    “Hi, Carson. This is Shirley.”
    “I thought so, but I wanted to be certain. How are you, and when did you get there?”
    “I’m fine, thank you. My plane got in a few minutes after noon, and Gunther met me and brought me home with him.”
    “Nice brother. I’ve looked forward to our date. Will you have dinner with me?”
    “Yes. How do you dress for dinner?”
    “Depends. For dinner with you, I’ll look as sharp as I can. I’d like to call for you at six-thirty tomorrow. Would that suit you?”
    “Six-thirty is fine.”
    “Good. If you’ve got any questions about the will, ask me now, because that’s not on my agenda for tomorrow evening.”
    “If you had anything to tell, would I have to ask?”
    “I’m obligated to deliver the result of my work first to Edgar. But I don’t have anything to report other than that your father had accounts at Fairmount and Altman Washington Banks and safe-deposit boxes in both. I checked the boxes. Neither one contained the will.”
    “Carson, I’m beginning to wonder if my father was loony.”
    “Your father was as sound as the United States mint. He had a reason for this, and we shall someday know what it was. I’ll see you tomorrow at six-thirty. Have a lovely, restful evening.”
    “Thanks. I wish you the same.”
    She hung up and flopped down on her bed. If his interest in her exceeded a gracious thank-you for helping him, he had yet to show it. Keep it cool, girl, she said to herself, but he planned to look as sharp as he could, so she’d do the same. She opened a shoe box and removed a pair of black patent-leather sandals with three-inch heels. She didn’t dare wear the five-inch ones, because she was already five feet, eight inches tall.
    “Was that Edgar who called a minute ago?” Gunther asked.
    “No, it wasn’t.” If he wanted her to tell him who called her, he’d have to ask outright.
    When six-thirty arrived the following evening, she was dressed in a