Читать книгу Murder At the Cubbyhole - Alice Zogg - Страница 7

Antoinette LeJeune, known to her friends as Andi, was riding her Harley-Davidson from Santa Monica to R. A. Huber’s office in Pasadena. At three in the afternoon, traffic was already advancing toward a peak on this Friday at the end of March. Thankfully, as a motorcyclist, she could use the diamond lane. Plus, she had perfect weather for riding, with not a cloud in the sky and temperatures in the upper seventies. Andi would not have traded her Harley for any luxury car. No way!

After making the transition from the 405 North Freeway to the 118 East, traffic eased a tad and Andi let her mind roam. She thought of the different places she had called home in the last three and a half years. At eighteen, following the passing of her Daddy, she had ridden to California on his Harley. The bike was not her only inheritance. Daddy also left her three pieces: a hunting rifle which she sold to a pawn shop before hitting the road, a Derringer and a Stinger pen pistol, both still in her possession. Besides his individual savings, Daddy had set up a college fund for her, and the sale of his bar and property in New Orleans had brought her additional cash, which kept her above water so far.

In the first few months as a newcomer, she had stayed with her kinfolk, Auntie Sue and Uncle Earl, in Pasadena. Then she had briefly lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Century City, proudly calling it the very first place of her own. She smiled to herself as she thought back to her dog-walking days. Andi would never forget the day Mrs. Huber called her with a job offer as assistant sleuth, taking her up on a plea she had made on impulse several months before. She had been thrilled at the chance to prove herself as an undercover detective and rode up to the Big Bear area where she took residency at Optimum House.

After that initial job, she was a steady helper to her detective boss. In order to be closer to Pasadena City College and also R. A. Huber’s office, she soon moved back in with her kinfolk. Last fall, when she transferred to UCLA, she had accepted Mr. and Mrs. Huber’s offer of the guestroom at their house in Merida, and although her short stay with them had been fun, the commute to UCLA proved too much. So now she was back in West L.A., sharing an apartment with two other students. For a girl who lived with her Daddy in the same house in New Orleans from the day she was born and lost her momma until reaching the age of eighteen, she surely had gotten around lately!

Andi was riding along the 210 Freeway now and would shortly arrive at her destination. Busy with her studies, she had not seen her boss in over a month and was full of enthusiasm about getting briefed on Mrs. Huber’s new case. Until that very moment, she had not realized how much she missed her fearless, intelligent, athletic yet elegant employer with the salt-and-pepper hair and Swiss accent. They teased one another about their “non-existing” accents, neither admitting to having one. In the three years of working for Mrs. Huber, she had not only come to respect and admire her employer, but had grown fond of her.

As she approached the two-story office building in Pasadena and rode into the parking lot, Andi wondered what kind of new mystery her boss had for them to solve.