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Ring-ring.
Hmm. Reynolds obviously needed someone to help him out, whether he admitted it or not, and what better way to show him than to prove exactly what she could do given the chance.
Ring-ring.
Before she could lose her nerve, she reached out and picked up the receiver.
Wait. What was she going to say?
“Reyn”—she cleared her throat—“Cavanaugh Investigations, can I help you?”
That sounded professional.
“Yes, I was hoping I could speak to Reynolds Cavanaugh? This is Mrs. Dolowitz again.”
Waverley glanced back at Reynolds’s door. Still nothing. “Mr. Cavanaugh isn’t available right now. Can I take a message for him?”
“Would you let him know I talked to Edie Michaels, and she mentioned she thought she saw Oscar in the Lewises’ rose bushes last night?”
“And Oscar is…?”
“My cat. A beautiful tabby with white around his back paws just like socks.”
Reynolds Cavanaugh was investigating the disappearance of a cat? That didn’t seem at all like him. “Why don’t you leave me your number, and that way if Mr. Cavanaugh has any questions, he can call you to follow up.”
“Sure, sweetie. It’s 970—”
“Sorry, if you could hold on for me one second…” Waverley pulled open a couple of drawers before finding a pad, and another search in the middle drawer revealed a pen. “Okay, go ahead.”
A couple of minutes later, Waverley hung up the phone and smiled in satisfaction. That had been simple enough.
And how much more helpful would it be for Reynolds’s clients to have the personal touch she could provide over some oblivious answering service?
She totally had this in the bag.
Chapter 4
Reynolds hung up the phone and ran his hands through his hair.
Damned computers.
Buying this new, updated computer system was supposed to be making things easier for him. Instead, two weeks later, all he wanted to do was throw the entire thing out onto the street and back his car over it.
He probably was going to have to suck it up and pay for the guy to come out like they’d originally suggested to get the system up and running correctly. Not that he didn’t have the money to pay for it; it was the principal of the thing.
Wait. What was he hearing?
Right. Someone had arrived when he was in the middle of his call, and he’d completely forgotten. He hoped they were understanding for having to wait.
Running his hands through his hair again to smooth it down, he headed out to greet his potential client.
He stopped short, his jaw dropping as he tried to understand what he was seeing.
The crazy woman was sitting behind the reception desk, typing away at the keyboard as if she belonged there. Not only that, the semi-organized pile of mail and all the other packages he hadn’t gotten around to looking through was half its size, and what was left was stacked in orderly piles on the desk.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the police and have you arrested for trespassing?”
She held up a finger as if to ask him to hold on a minute, and it was only then he realized she was talking.
