Losers Weepers (A Jane Barnaby Adventure)

By J.J. DiBenedetto

Jane Barnaby has everything going for her: a prestigious internship at the Museum of Natural History, a fantastic Upper West Side apartment, and the chance to help her best friend, Tishy, plan her wedding.

But a casual lunch with Tishy’s fiancé sets off serious alarm bells, sending Jane digging into the rabbit hole of his past.

And that digging leads Jane and her sometimes-boyfriend to the English countryside, uncovering secrets dating back to World War 2, including some priceless art looted by the Nazis. Unfortunately, Jane isn't the only one seeking secrets and treasure, and the thieves she's competing with won’t hesitate to kill Jane and everyone she holds dear to get what they want.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.J. DiBenedetto
• Release date: Jul 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311837547

Book preview

The Jane Barnaby Adventures

Finders Keepers

The Dream Series novels:

Dream Student

Dream Doctor

Dream Child

Dream Family

Waking Dream

Dream Reunion

Dream Home

Dream Vacation

Fever Dream

Dream Wedding

Dream Fragments: Stories from the Dream Series

Betty & Howard’s Excellent Adventure

A Box of Dreams: the collected Dream Series (books 1-5)

All available at:

www.writingdreams.net

Copyright © 2016 by J.J. DiBenedetto

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

J.J. DiBenedetto

Arlington, Virginia, U.S.A.

www.writingdreams.net

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout ©2016

Postcard image © Ilya Zonov/Shutterstock.com 2016

Cover Art: designed by Emma Michaels ©2016

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the Special Sales Department at the address above.

Losers Weepers/J.J. DiBenedetto -- 1st ed.

ISBN-13: 9781311837547

Did you get a good look at that rock?

Jane had, indeed, gotten a very good look at the brand-new engagement ring on Tishy McCall’s hand. Thanks to a special lecture her advisor had arranged last fall at Garrard’s, jewelers to the royal family, which had amounted to a one-day master class in fine jewelry, she had a pretty clear idea of how much it was worth, too.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and ushered Jess in. Good enough to tell it was six carats, give or take. Probably worth $150,000 or so.

Jess’ eyes went wide. Seriously?

I told you about the guy who repairs jewelry for the Queen of England. He gave us the crash course, and believe me, I was paying close attention. She smiled as she recalled the last half-hour of the lecture, when the gentleman from Garrard’s had given the ladies of Magdalen College very specific instruction on what to look for when they were buying, or receiving, precious jewelry. He told us how to spot the real thing. I guarantee you, Tishy’s ring was as real as it gets.

Jane was surprised that Jess hadn’t yet said anything about the apartment, considering this was her first time seeing it. Clearly the shock of seeing Tishy’s ring, and the news of her engagement in the first place, had not faded yet. Jess wandered over to the sofa, not really paying much attention to anything, and plopped herself down before Jane could warn her not to.

She sank into the plush cushions and nearly tipped over, putting Jane in mind of the Weeble-Wobbles she’d played with as a little girl. God, Jane, how do you stand this?

Jane laughed. Beggars can’t be choosers. The furniture came with the place. The apartment had been a deal she couldn’t refuse. A one-year sublet on a rent-controlled, fully furnished apartment in a great building on the Upper West Side? She could live with the uncomfortable sofa.

Something else that came with the place chose that moment to jump up next to Jess. What the heck? She was staring at a large white cat that had apparently taken an instant liking to her; he was rubbing his head against her leg and purring loudly.

Muffin, get down! The cat had done the same thing when Jane’s father had visited last week. You’re going to get hair all over her! He took no notice of Jane’s order, which she’d come to expect by now.

I’ve known you for six years, and you never told me you were a cat person? Jess gave Jane a mock-frown. What kind of friend are you?

I’m not! I didn’t know about the cat until I moved in. I never even talked to the guy who’s actually on the lease. She’d learned of the apartment from her father’s neighbor – and boss - Mr. Parlato, who had discovered it via a friend of a friend of a friend. She’d been told there was no time to think about it – if she didn’t say yes on the spot, there were two dozen people ready to kill for the apartment.

So you didn’t name her Muffin? Jess was clearly fighting back laughter.

Him, and no, it was on his collar. She had to laugh, too. I don’t mind him, tell you the truth. It’s kind of nice to have a man around the house, even if he doesn’t do any chores and he sheds way too much. Jane sat down next to Jess. I guess that gets us back to Tishy, doesn’t it? I never guessed she’d be the first one of us to get married.

Quite the contrary; Jane would have bet real money that, from the tight-knit group of friends she’d spent her college years with, Jake and Rita would have been the first to tie the knot. Jess must have been thinking the same thing, because she shook her head. I know. I mean, for the first few months after graduation, I was expecting to get a call from Rita any day. But I guess people don’t marry their college sweetheart anymore. This isn’t the 1950’s, right?

Jane could think of two girls from her own dorm who’d done exactly that. But maybe Julie, and Sara, were the exceptions that proved the rule. They’re still together. Maybe this’ll push them into making it official already. Even if they did, they’d have to move awfully fast to beat Tishy and her fiancée to the altar. At lunch, Tishy had talked about a September wedding, only three months from now.

That just leaves us. A couple of old maids, Jess said, petting the cat. He’d really taken to her; he was now lying on his back next to her. And you’ve already started on the crazy cat lady plan. You always did like to plan ahead.

Jane ignored her friend’s joke, but she had less luck ignoring the scolding voice in her head reminding her that she probably could have had a ring herself by now if she’d wanted one. If only she hadn’t screwed things up so completely. She took a deep breath and reminded the irritating voice that today wasn’t about her. Jane would be the first to admit that she had her share of faults, but jealousy generally wasn’t one of them. She could be happy for Tishy now, and contemplate her own situation later.

Speaking of planning ahead, you know we’re going to get stuck planning her shower and her bachelorette party, right?

Jess sighed. Yeah. With all the free time I don’t have. You don’t want to know what I had to promise just to get this afternoon off.

Jane had a shrewd guess how much it had cost her best friend. She had a string of apologetic emails from Jess, cancelling plans for lunch, dinner and visits to see the apartment. The work of an apprentice TV new producer is never done, I guess. The schedule at Jane’s own job, at the Natural History Museum, was not nearly as strict. She was out the door by six o’clock at the latest, and that wasn’t always by choice. More than once, Dr. Bonner had to order her to go home, after she’d shown no sign of quitting for the day.

Something like that, Jess answered. Speaking of which, I’d better get back to work. Five minutes and several variations on I swear, we’ll get together for dinner this week! later, Jess was gone, leaving Jane alone with a hungry cat, a sofa covered in white hair and a hefad full of questions she didn’t want to ask herself.

9

Mark Bainbridge had always disagreed with the cliché that women were complicated. They had always made perfect sense to him, at least until a couple of months ago. He’d always understood them, and they always understood him. Even Jane.

Especially Jane.

He’d thought they were both on the same page, as tricky as things were with her in England and him here in California. He’d thought she thought so, too, until suddenly they weren’t. The worst thing was, he had no idea what he’d done to wreck things with her. She’d told him about her new job, a year in New York before heading back to Oxford to work on her Ph.D., and he’d said, That’s fantastic. Four hours on a plane is a heck of a lot easier than twelve.

She’d freaked out at his words, and to this day he had no idea why. Things had only gone downhill from there. Nothing had been said that couldn’t be taken back, but both of them had come close to it.

They’d barely spoken since then, and when they did, it was far too polite, too formal. Like walking on eggshells. Or maybe walking across a bridge made of eggshells spanning a crocodile-infested river.

He’d have to work on his eggshell-walking technique, because he had a week of meetings coming up in New York, and there was no way he could avoid seeing her, no excuse he could make. And the truth was, he didn’t want to avoid her. He had no desire to make excuses. He just wanted things back the way they were, if only there were a road to take him there.

This is the last free night I’m going to have until August, Jess said, holding up an empty wine bottle. So I might as well enjoy it. Have you got any more?

Jane did. She went to the kitchen and pulled the last bottle out of the little wine rack. I hope red is OK, it’s all I’ve got left. The wine had been there when Jane moved in. Maybe she should have just left it alone, but surely it wouldn’t still be drinkable in a year, when she turned the apartment back over to its original occupant. Jess nodded her approval, and Jane opened the bottle and refilled both their glasses. Here’s to your last night of freedom.

God, I just realized. Forget August, I’m not going to have another day off until September. It’s not just the Democratic convention or the Olympics. There’s the Republican convention, too, first week in August. And then we’ll have reporters following both campaigns constantly. Jess suddenly looked as though she might scream, or cry. Jane didn’t want to bet which way she might go. She shuddered as she went on, I never thought about it, but they might send me out on the road. Oh, my God, what if they send me out to follow Ross Perot around? Can you imagine?

Jane didn’t say that working in TV news had been Jess’ dream for the whole time they’d known each other; it didn’t seem helpful to point that out just now. What about the Olympics? Any chance they’ll send you to Spain? Barcelona was really nice. You’d love it.

That produced a smile. Yea, you told me what a great time you had there, with the art thieves and all that. It was true, Jane’s first time in Barcelona had not been the best day of her life, but she’d gone back and visited the place properly twice afterwards. Including a memorable weekend with Mark that she was not going to think about just now.

It’s beautiful. And there’ll be, what, 10,000 athletes in peak physical condition? And half of them will be men. Probably more than half. In peak physical condition. Sounds like a good deal to me. Jess clearly hadn’t considered that before, but from the way she was nodding silently to herself, she was giving it a lot of thought now.

You might have a point, she said, blushing slightly. She took a deep breath and went on, speaking of men, I know a little more about Tishy’s fiancé.

Tishy hadn’t said much about him the other day at lunch. Thinking back, Jane couldn’t actually recall his name. Had Tishy even mentioned it? She’d spent most of the hour showing off the ring and going on about how romantic the proposal had been. What had she said about him? He was Scottish, but that was the only detail Jane remembered. Do tell.

Rita caught me just when my boss was in a meeting, so I actually had a few minutes to talk. Rita and Tishy had been roommates all through college, just as Jane and Jess had been. His name is Peter, and, get this, he’s royalty. Or nobility. Like your friend Melanie back at Oxford.

You’re kidding. Jane said it reflexively, but it wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. Despite having lived in New York most of her life, Tishy was actually British, and her grandfather had been a General in the Royal Army. It was entirely reasonable that she’d run into nobles through him. Maybe he’d set the whole thing up. An arranged marriage hardly seemed like something Tishy would go for, but she could have changed in the two years since they’d graduated college. People did, and two years in the real world could definitely cause it.

That’s what Rita told me, and it didn’t sound like she was kidding. Jane wasn’t jealous; why shouldn’t Tishy marry into the aristocracy if she wanted to? But maybe you should check with Melanie and see if she knows who this guy is. Just out of curiosity, you know?

Lady Melanie Harrington was the first good friend Jane had met at Oxford. She was also currently 109th in line to the British throne. She’d been 122nd in line when Jane had first met her almost two years ago, and Jane didn’t like to think too much about what the change in ranking meant. Regardless, Melanie would most likely would know who Tishy’s fiancé was. Peter and Scottish would probably be all the information she needed. Good idea. I’ll email her later.

They finished the last bottle of wine and caught each other up on their latest news, before drifting back to the topic of Tishy’s upcoming wedding. Maybe we ought to have the shower sooner, Jess suggested. I’m not going to have any time to help you plan anything, but if we have it before the end of the month, I might be able to sneak out of work for a couple of hours to come to the party.

Jane was fine with that; she did have more free time, and she knew the perfect person to cater it, too. You think Chinese would work for the food? I’m sure Cassie will do it if I ask her.

Your Dad’s girlfriend?

That is never not going to sound weird. Even if she’d been the one to push the two of them together when neither one was willing to make the first move.

You shouldn’t have played matchmaker with them, then.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Cassie. She’s like – I don’t know, like a big sister.

Jess gave her a wicked grin. A big sister who’s sleeping with your father.

Jane sighed. Cassie made her father happy, and he’d waited almost five years after Mom passed away before even thinking about dating. And it had only been at Jane’s insistence that he’d done so at all. There was nothing wrong with any of it, but sometimes Jane couldn’t put it out of her mind that Cassie was only a few years older than herself. Thank you so much. That’s a wonderful image. I’m sure I won’t have nightmares about that at all.

I live to serve. Jess helped Jane tidy up, getting everything in the dishwasher. But I do have to get home. I’m sure I have twenty messages on my answering machine, and every one of them is urgent.

When Jess left, Jane put down a second – or was it third? – dinner for Muffin and retreated to the bedroom. As happened every night, she was reminded this really wasn’t her apartment by the pictures on the wall. The original tenant had a huge framed print of Fenway Park on one wall, and autographed photos of several Boston sports stars on another. If they’d all been New York athletes, it still wouldn’t have been her style, but she could have lived with it. The only reason she hadn’t taken them down yet was that there wasn’t enough space in any of the closets to store them. She’d barely found room to shove the pillows, sheets and comforter into the top of the bedroom closet. She had no desire to sleep on someone else’s bedclothes. God knew what sort of person he was, or what he got up to in the bedroom. And, to be fair, he probably wouldn’t be thrilled about her using them, either.

Instead, she had her own sheets, from her old bedroom at home. Much more civilized, really. She put on her pajamas and climbed into bed, grabbing an envelope from the side table. It was from her father, and inside was a newspaper clipping. There was a sticky note, with a short message from her father scrawled on it as well:

Jane, Cassie thought you’d be interested in this. Love, Daddy.

It turned out that her surrogate big sister/possible