Chapter 152: Monica Murdoch
Levi walked into 7 Eastbourne that late afternoon; upon his entrance in the small building’s main door, he immediately heard Mrs. Whitehall’s familiar voice. His brows furrowed in both annoyance and curiosity; she was laughing, as to why he doesn’t know. But in his opinion, it sounded like she was torturing their neighbor’s corgis. But what caught his interest most was the fact that her laughter was coming from HIS flat upstairs.
He shook his head for a moment and turned right to enter the agency door; his eyes landed on the boys. All of them sat on their desks with either writing on files or talking to someone through the phone. Their brows furrowed in concentration; everyone was busy. To the slicked blond, that was a good sign; money was coming in thanks to the leprechaun gods. He and Marco had even been considering employing a new person to help with the boys’ work. Hopefully, it will help lighten the load on each of them.
However, as fortunate as they were that clients kept coming to their door, it was unfortunate for the Irishman that cases he considered interesting were rare. And he had to depend on Davies’ cases for mental entertainment. Levi turned to Mike, "I’ll be upstairs. Call me if you need me." he said, earning a curt nod, and he exited back out of the door and climbed up to his flat.
COnfirming that the laughing was coming from his flat, his eyes narrowed at the door, and he entered. Eyes rested on his housekeeper and a woman in her late 70’s. The two older women were seated on his sofa and having tea.
Mrs. Whitehall turned to the door when she heard it swing open, and she smiled. "Levi, wonderful you’re back," she said, a cup of tea in hand. The Irishman shrugged his coat, ignoring his housekeeper; he was not in the mood for company.
He turned impassively to look at Mrs. Whitehall and the stranger in his living room. He was about to utter "Do Tea parties in your flat, Mrs. Whitehall!" when the flabby old woman recognized the annoyed look on his face and interrupted him by saying, "This is Mrs. Murdoch." and she shot him a warning look. Levi closed his mouth immediately, and he froze on his spot before he started an ungraceful rant.
His hazel eyes studied the woman sitting on his couch, graying shoulder-length hair. She had a hand of a gardener and the stature of an Orchestra player--Piano. He could tell she was in her late 70’s. She was old, too old to be Jason Murdoch’s wife if he even had any. He frowned; he’d seen that woman before, but where?
His brain raced for an answer, then it hit him, a photo flashing in his mind, a picture on Sam’s office table. The redhead was wearing a toga in her teens, smiling with a woman and a man in their 50’s. Behind them was Caltech’s Millikan building.
"Sam’s grandmother." Levi and Mrs. Whitehall said in unison.
Monica Murdoch smiled up at the tall Irishman; she found him too posh-looking for her taste, yet undeniably handsome. He had a set of full blond hair and a striking set of eyes, and a chiseled jaw. He had a good posture in him, which the older woman found attractive.