Free The Elizabeth Papers by Jenetta James

coffee shop with rickety chairs and a halogen light in the window. It was 9:30 a.m., and Charlie probably had a wait ahead of him, so he bought a copy of the Times and Vanity Fair and sat in the window of the coffee shop, keeping watch without appearing to do so. It was Monday morning, and he knew that she would never last until lunch without a coffee and a cigarette. Sure enough, at nearly 11:00 a.m., she came. The main door of Galbraiths opened, a big, red bus drove by, and there on the pavement was Isobel Langley-Jones—long legs, sweet smile, looking left and right, and clutching her purse to her chest. Charlie stood, took his jacket from the back of his chair, paid up, and left the magazine and newspaper for the girl behind the till. Isobel did not notice when he joined the queue directly behind her in Starbucks.
    “Let me guess, skinny cappuccino with an extra shot?”
    “Charlie!” She spun around, grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, what a coincidence. How are you?”
    “I’m great, Issy. And you?”
    “Yeah, oh, I’m okay, you know.” She fiddled with her pretty hair as she spoke, and he tried to recall how long it had been.
    “I really am getting you a coffee though. Do you have time to stop, Issy?”
    Her eyes darted about and she had that look on her face that told him she was about to say “no” but then changed it to “yes.” He ordered their coffees, and they sat at the back on each side of a small, round, not-quite-clean table. They chatted amiably, as well as two people who occasionally slept together but otherwise rarely fraternise can. Isobel amazed him by announcing she had given up smoking. She had passed her legal secretary test and recently decorated her flat. Her cat was well. It was that kind of conversation. He made the error of brushing her hand with his when she reached for a napkin, and she looked suddenly suspicious.
    “This isn’t really a coincidence, is it, Charlie?”
    He felt suddenly guilty for having underestimated her.
    “Well, not quite. I had a meeting nearby this morning and hoped that I might see you on your coffee run because…well, I was hoping you might be able to help me. It’s going to take a bit of explaining though…it’s a long story. Do you want to hear me out?”
    She put her head in her hands and let out a strange noise.
    “I know that I shouldn’t, but I know that I will. Okay. When do you want to talk?”
    “Meet me for lunch? Temple Gardens, one o’clock? My treat.”
    Later that day, they sat on the parched grass, midsummer flowers blooming and the sun blazing.
    “Charlie, you remembered that I love raspberries! Lovely and only a little bit creepy.” She winked, and he laughed back. Things were okay between them. She was not a girl who took things too seriously.
    “’Course I remembered.”
    She sat back against the slight, grassy incline behind them and passed the red, fleshy fruit around in her mouth. Issy had helped him before, but on that occasion he just wanted a client’s telephone number.
    “So come on then, Charlie, let’s hear it. What do you want this time?”
    “I want you to get a file for me.”
    “You want what? Are you completely mad? I’ll get the sack. No. No, no, and no.”
    “Calm down, Issy. I haven’t told you anything about it yet. Don’t jump the gun. Eat another raspberry. It’s not a current client file that I want. Christ, the file I want might not even be there. This thing is so old that it might have been put through the shredder long ago. This is ancient history, Issy. Nobody is going to care or notice.”
    “But you do?”
    “Yeah, it might be important for a case I’m working on. It might be a dead end. It’s just a try, but I kind of need you to help me get started. I didn’t know you had got so timid.”
    He knew that would rile her.
    “Okay. So how old is old?”
    “Well, the guy I’m interested in died in 1860. Old enough for you? I told you, it’s not like I’m asking you to take a current