Ron Goulart - The Curse of the Obelisk

THE CURSE OF THE OBELISK 3
Putting away his gun, Harry went trotting back the way he'd come. "Now where the hell's the
lady who hollered?"
She was slumped on a wrought iron bench, a derringer lying in the grass at her feet. A slim and
very pretty young woman she was, her hair a pale reddish gold. It had tumbled down from under
the checkered cap she was wearing. The cap matched the man's Norfolk jacket and tweedy knickers
she had herself decked out in.
"Jennie Barr." Harry's tone was not especially cordial. "You were too busy to have dinner with
me tonight. You had to get to work immediately on your story for the New York Daily Inquirer.
You lied to me."
Taking a deep breath, Jennie sat up straighter and tucked her hair back up under the cap. "Well,
I suppose I did fib some, yes."
"We travel all the way from Zevenburg to Paris together," he continued, angry. "I even,
behaving like what my father would classify as a nincompoop, declare that I'm fond of you. I
entertain the half-wit notion that I can trust you not to be a newspaper reporter above all else. But
you were just conning me, Jennie, so you could—"
"Fond of me? What you did on the Zevenburg-Paris Express, Harry, was tell me you loved me."
"Okay, I do love you," he admitted. "Fact is, I was in the process of telling you that again just a
few hours ago. But you told me you had to get right to work on your assignment. No time for
romance, no time for the gaiety, light and movement of Paris. So it turns out this damn story of
yours has to do with my private—"
"Hey, I just saved your life."
"Thanks," he said. "Now tell me why you're dressed like a guy and tailing me."
Jennie grinned. "Did pretty darn well, didn't I? I followed you all the way from the Hotel
Grand-Luxe and you never even tumbled."
"You did, huh?" He made a face and shook his head. "There's one thing my father's right about.
Getting involved with a woman dulls your—"
"Your father, if you'll forgive my reminding you of the fact, is a sour ball, Harry," the reporter
put in. "One of the things that scares the heck out of me is the possibility you'll grow more like him
as you get older. Spending my declining years with a curmudgeon isn't my idea of—"
"You won't even spend the rest of the damn evening with me unless you explain what's going
on."
Reaching up, she took hold of his arm and pulled herself to her feet. "Take me to a nearby café
and over coffee I'll tell all," Jennie promised.
"I'm on my way to see a client. Don't have time for—"
"Let me give you some advice." She bent, grimacing, scooped up her tiny gun and tucked it
away under her jacket. "Don't pout that way. You don't have the face for it. I think it's an attractive
face, albeit a mite beat-up and—"
"Okay, I'll take you someplace." When they started to walk, he noticed the red-haired young
woman was limping. "Did that critter hurt you?"