Free Cornwall and Redfern Mysteries 2-Book Bundle by Gloria Ferris Page A

leg over the seat. He sat stiffly upright, eyes glued shut, clutching my shoulders so hard I knew there would be bruises in the morning.
    â€œHold onto the bars beside your seat,” I instructed him. “You can’t hang on to me or you’ll pull us both over.” We wouldn’t be going fast or far, but still, it would hurt plenty if we hit the pavement.
    I had to get off and position Dougal’s hands in place. Then I started up and we were off, off to negotiate a pollen-swapping contract between a wronged woman and a worm (according to Glory), or a man-eating barracuda and a wronged husband (Dougal’s view).
    My opinion? They were both nuts and somebody better pay me a thousand dollars after this was over or I’d hurt them both.

Chapter
NINE
    I left my face shield up on the short drive to Glory’s mansion, and the soft air cooled my flushed cheeks. It would be a perfect night to drive along the back roads outside of town, enjoying the smell of cedars, hearing the early summer sound of crickets in the grass. That’s the way I like to experience nature, whizzing by me on either side of a paved road.
    Instead, Dougal ignored my instructions to keep his hands on the bars and relax his body to the rhythm of the bike. He sat rigidly upright and gripped my waist. There might as well be a 165-pound block of cement on the seat behind me. He wouldn’t shut up, either.
    â€œI can’t do this, Bliss. Take me home. Do you hear me, turn this thing around now. It was a bad idea. I’ll have to think of some other way to pollinate my Thor. Maybe I’ll call Glory and try and set something up another way.” Since we were barely moving, I heard every word in painful clarity.
    â€œNot a chance. We’re almost there, and you’ll live through it.”
    â€œI don’t care. I want to go back home. I’ve changed my mind about the whole thing. Just turn around!”
    A lone vehicle passed us and, as it glided by, I saw the familiar squat shape of a silver Volkswagen Beetle convertible. So the Belcourts were taking a night tour of the more upscale part of town. If they were looking at real estate in this district, they wouldn’t be interested in the Barrister property. I wasn’t disappointed, since the idea of a commission from a sale was a non-starter from the day Elaine handed me the listing.
    With Dougal whining in my ear like a neurotic mosquito, I drove through Glory’s open wrought-iron gates and parked as close to the limestone steps as possible. Still, getting Dougal off the bike and up those steps to the front door was another challenge, and I ended up giving him a sharp kick on the calf to get him started. Thank God, Pan opened the door immediately. I shoved Dougal in ahead of me and stripped him of the helmet.
    Pan and Dougal gazed at one another wordlessly while I divested myself of helmet and leather jacket, astonished to find I was still dressed in my black silk pantsuit. Not much protection if I dropped the bike on the way home.
    Five minutes later, Glory and Dougal were squaring off in the middle of the Persian rug, standing six feet apart. Pan and I sat on one of the cream leather couches with a large bowl of popcorn between us, both of us reaching into the bowl without taking our eyes off the combatants. Simon had been fussed and cooed over by Glory for just under fifteen seconds, then tossed onto the teak coffee table. Simon squawked in protest but uttered no profanities. Yet. I slipped a magazine under his tail feathers just in time.
    Hands on slim hips, shoulders back and head high in full battle mode, Glory was the spitting image of Joan of Arc’s evil twin. She wore a slinky pink tunic over matching wide-legged trousers. Pink toenails peeped out from three-inch gold sandals. Dougal, on the other hand, was still pasty and sweaty from his terrorizing minute-and-a-half ride. His buzzed hair was getting long on top, and I made a mental note