Excerpt from Chapter 1

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Ready to lock up and leave, I headed for the door, which flew open, and I almost collided with a young woman.

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She was an attractive blonde, Marilyn Monroe-type, expensively dressed in a navy blue suit. The woman was clearly frightened, distressed or angry, maybe all three.

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With a scrutinizing glance around the office, her eyes came to rest on my Staunton Rosewood chessboard set up with the chessmen at one end of the desk.

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Then she looked at me and said, "I need to see R.A. Huber, please."

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I replied, "I am R.A. Huber," and, motioning her into the ‘client-chair,’ I seated myself behind the desk. She just stared at me.

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I said, "You did not expect a woman, and an old one at that!"

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"Well, no," she replied.

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"Being an old lady has advantages in this line of business."

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"How is that?"

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"For one thing, people tend to underestimate me. I am good at solving puzzles or problems, and being older gives me the advantage of lots of life experience. Having an orderly mind helps me with the solving of mysteries. I am also stronger than I look!"

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She glanced at the chess set once more, and, pointing to it she asked, "Why do you keep this at your office? I mean, you’re a detective, not a psychiatrist or something."

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I replied, "I am definitely only a private detective, and I don’t invite clients to play! I enjoy a game of solitaire form of chess; it stimulates the brain."

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The young woman said, "Where are you from?"

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I have lived most of my adult life in this country. When I realize people still detect an accent, I tend to get annoyed. Mostly with myself, that is.

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I answered, "I am originally from Switzerland. I didn’t come straight off the boat, however. And, no, I don’t yodel!"

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She did not laugh at my joke.

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I continued, "My knowledge of several languages might come in handy if a case takes me outside of the United States."

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She studied me thoughtfully for a moment and then asked, "Do you carry a gun?"

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"I have a permit." I added, "You have not given me your name."

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"Oh, sorry. My name is Sally Worthington," she said.

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"Is that Ms, Mrs., or Miss?"

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"It’s Mrs., but you really did not answer my question. Do you carry a gun?"

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"No, not usually."

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"Why not?"

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"I like to dress chic, and carrying one in my purse won’t do me much good!"

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Clearly absorbed with her own problems, she did not seem to find this comment funny either and after a pause said, "I don’t think I want to hire you."

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I retorted, "Mrs. Worthington, you have that all wrong. It is not a matter of whether you will hire me; it is a matter of whether or not I will take your case. I am informing you right up front that I will not concern myself with divorce, petty theft or lost dog cases."

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"You are rather arrogant!"

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"Not really. I just like to pick and choose what work I will do. You see, I have the luxury of not having to make a living from my detective business. If a case interests me, no trip to Europe or elsewhere is planned, and if I am not busy with other cases at that moment, I will take it on."

A shrewd look came into her eyes. Then she asked, "Do you mean you don’t charge for your services?"

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I countered, "No, I am not a charity!"

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