Murder Takes A Bow - A Betty Crawford Mystery (The Betty Crawford Mysteries) Read Free

to wait across the street with the others." He was just as she remembered him. Scruffy beard, laugh lines, and almost six feet of muscle with just a little padding. She couldn’t help but notice that he looked good in a blue uniform, though she’d certainly never inflate his head by telling him that. Handsome men didn’t need to be reminded they were handsome. Besides, she could tell by his expression that he had no idea who she was.
     
     
    She’d known he was the new Chief of Police. Of course she had. So did everyone in Lofton, because an outsider in such a high position had really gotten the Gossiping Grannies going. But she hadn’t expected to run into him at a crime scene, or for him to not even recognize her. They’d been no more than casual friends, but still. Three years in theater together should at least guarantee some sort bell ringing. It’s not like she’d gone and shaved her head.
     
     
    Well, if he wasn’t going to recognize her, she certainly wasn’t going to waste time helping him remember. "Is Clarise okay?" Betty asked, trying to keep any trace of panic from her tone. "I was supposed to meet her for lunch half an hour ago, and… and…" She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t ask, "Is she dead?" It seemed too much like a jinx.
     
     
    "Clarise Birdsong?" Bill asked. Betty nodded. "She’s safe."
     
     
    Betty sagged with relief. Clarise was safe. She was safe. Safe.
     
     
    Then who was dead?
     
     
    Bill paused, his forehead creasing as he looked at her. Betty could practically see his brain trying to place her. She let him work it out. "Betty?"
     
     
    "Bill?" she returned with a touch of sarcasm. His eyes lit up.
     
     
    "I thought it was you!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Fancy meeting you here. How’ve you been?"
     
     
    "Right now?" Betty asked. "Crappy." His face fell a little and Betty sighed. "I’m sorry Bill. I’d love to catch up some other time. But right now  "
     
     
    Movement on the theater steps drew her attention. The door opened and Clarise came out. She was flanked by two officers. Clarise towered over both of them by almost half a foot. Her normally cheery face was pasty, her light brown skin almost grey. Her green outfit clashed horribly with white sneakers that Betty knew she kept in her office for gym days only. There were brown dots and splotches all over her pants and shirt. Handcuffs glinted around her wrists.
     
     
    Betty couldn’t believe that Bill had said she was safe. Obviously, something was very, very wrong. She barreled forward. "Clarise!"
     
     
    She ran right into Bill. He reached out to steady her and reverted back to what Betty was already thinking of as his cop voice. "Sorry Betty, but you’ll still have to wait across the street with the others. She’s safe, we’re just taking her into the station."
     
     
    "What for?" Betty exclaimed.
     
     
    But she knew. She knew by the guarded expression on his face, by the handcuffs around Clarise’s wrists. They thought she had done this.
     
     
    "Betty," Bill said, a hint of warning in his tone. "Please go across the street."
     
     
    Betty looked at him incredulously, as if to say, Are you crazy? Let me go through or my newly Diabetic ass will go postal! At least, that’s what she meant the glare to convey. Some of her message must have gotten through, because Bill’s eyes widened just a little and he tightened his grip on her reflexively. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Betty knew she’d laugh at the moment in retrospect. He had a badge, a gun, stood half a foot taller and weighed fifty pounds more than her – and all of it was muscle but he startled when she glared. But Bill tried to turn her gently around. "I’m sorry Betty. You can talk to her later."
     
     
    "Betty?" Clarise called. Her voice sounded thin when it should have been vibrant, and Betty’s heart twisted. Her friend was so pale. "It’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll call you later, okay? It’s