Front Page Affair Read Free Page A

smiling to hide their embarrassment.
    Then a bomb blast went off, startling everyone, and jets of pink and blue smoke shot into the heavens. A collective gasp ran through the crowd as tiny packages of paper and wire unfurled below the clouds, and orange goldfish, golden carp, and green serpents floated downward. Another explosion rang out, and this time dwarfish goblins and gorgeous butterflies came to life. Bursts of smoke in different hues filled the atmosphere. The show went on and on, like a rainbow continuously changing its colors, shape, and form. One explosion followed another, and the patterns bloomed and dissipated as if by magic. Finally, the pièce de résistance: an ephemeral vision of red, white, and blue stripes pierced by a quick succession of exploding stars.
    A shower of tiny tissue-paper figures rained on the guests. The children shrieked and scrambled to catch silhouettes of turkeys, George Washington, trumpets, and flags. Many of the adults couldn’t resist either and held out their hands for a souvenir.
    Kitty had never seen anything quite like it. The display ended almost an hour after it had begun, and she decided that she ought to head back home. The drive to Manhattan might take some time, and Miss Busby had told her she could leave once the fireworks were done.
    She went to look for Mrs. Basshor but spotted Hotchkiss instead. The secretary stood at the edge of the lawns, his hands behind his back, surveying the delighted crowd with pride.
    Kitty walked over and held out her hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Hotchkiss.”
    â€œThank you, Miss Weeks. Are you leaving us already?”
    â€œI think I have the best part for my story.”
    â€œYes.” He nodded. “Those daylight fireworks are quite a sight.”
    â€œSomeone seems to need to speak to you,” she said, looking over his shoulder at the groundskeeper running toward him.
    â€œMr. Hotchkiss!” the groundskeeper panted, out of breath, holding his cap in his hands.
    Hotchkiss turned. “What’s the matter, man? Don’t you know better than to interrupt in the middle of a conversation?”
    â€œI’m sorry, sir”—the fellow shot a glance at Kitty—“but it’s one of the guests.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThe lads found him in the stables.”
    â€œGo on.” Hotchkiss sounded impatient.
    The groundskeeper seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Then he came out and said it: “He’s dead, sir. He’s been shot.”

Chapter Three
    Kitty didn’t ask for permission to follow. She picked up her skirts and hurried after the men, thankful not to be wearing a gown or Louis heels that would sink into the soft grass.
    Her thoughts were jumbled. Someone murdered? In the stables? Who could it be? How did it happen?
    A crowd of lads had gathered by the entrance to the attractive brick building that Kitty had admired just a few hours before. Sunlight bathed the copper-domed monitors atop the tiled roof, and Kitty caught her breath. It didn’t seem possible that there could be a dead body inside.
    The men parted to make way for the secretary and his escort.
    â€œI wouldn’t go in there, if I were you, miss,” a stable hand said, but Kitty didn’t listen. One moment, she was out in the bright sunshine, surrounded by voices; the next, she was enveloped in darkness and silence broken only by the clatter of hooves and the occasional whinnying of a horse.
    It took Kitty’s eyes a second to adjust. Then she caught sight of a figure, stretched out like a beached whale along the wooden aisle between two rows of stalls. Her reluctant gaze traveled from the soles of polished shoes, up a pair of sharply creased black trousers, over the mound of a belly, to a slack jaw and glassy stare. A single bullet hole pierced the forehead.
    Kitty felt her legs give way. She had never been to a funeral, let alone seen a corpse. She held on to the door of