The Bachelor Girl's Guide to Murder Read Free

it’s not raining.” Merinda crouched by the body and held up one of the girl’s ivory hands.
    â€œMaybe she was shoved in clothes just from the laundry,” said Jem tentatively.
    â€œDoes she smell like she came from the laundry?” Merinda said. “Look here, Jasper!”
    Jasper leaned in. The girl’s fingernails had the slightest coating of dust. Merinda was about to expound on another theory when Jasper said, “Shhh!” and raised his hand.
    They froze.
    Jasper put a finger to his mouth and pushed them gently from the foyer, through the side of the auditorium, and to the backstage door at Victoria Street. He clicked it shut behind them as loud male voices broke the silence they’d left behind. It sounded like police talk.
    â€œYou two scurry,” he said.
    Merinda grabbed at Jasper’s elbow and pulled tightly. “Please, Jasper, let me back in. I haven’t finished investigating.”
    â€œNo,” Jasper said. “It’ll be the end of my career if the sergeant finds out you were at the scene at all.”
    Merinda sighed. “Is Fiona… is the body going to the morgue now for an autopsy?”
    â€œYes, there will be an autopsy.”
    â€œAnd you’ll keep us posted? You’ll let us know what the autopsy shows?”
    â€œMerinda, your excitement is indecent,” Jem said. “A girl is dead.”
    â€œShush, Jem! There’s finally adventure at our fingertips, and I won’t let it slip away.” Merinda turned to the constable. “Jasper?” she entreated.
    â€œYes, yes. I’ll loop you two in. Now, scurry!”

    Ray DeLuca excelled at being at the right place at the wrong time. Today he was following Skip McCoy, the Hogtown Herald’s ** sometimes photographer and all-around jack-of-all-trades, unaware the impromptu adventure would result in a corpse.
    Skip had told him he knew a secret way up to the Winter Garden, the theatre atop the gilded Elgin Theatre, still several weeks away from its public opening. Later that night, the Elgin would be the scene of Montague’s mayoral election rally. Everyone, including Montague’s wealthy ally, Thaddeus Spenser, would be in attendance. Skip and Ray would kill a few hours, maybe find a diner nearby before staking out the crowd.
    â€œTertius Montague put some of his own money into the new theatre.” Skip jumped up and wrestled with the ladder attached to thefire escape so it came clanking down with a thud. “Thaddeus Spenser contributed.”
    Ray looked left and right. Victoria Street was fairly empty for a sunny Saturday afternoon. He let ruddy-haired Skip get a head start and then pulled himself up after him, holding tightly to the handrails. A few flights and Skip opened the unlocked door.
    Inside, Ray took off his bowler and muffed at his matted hair. Skip snaked a lit match along the brick wall until he found the lever and yanked so that the electric lights fizzled and spurted before they slowly lit. Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous backstage area, still in disarray. The workers must have had the morning off. Above, ropes and pulleys crisscrossed and drooped. In front, a black fire scrim barricaded them.
    Ray maneuvered around piles of lumber and tarps to get nearer to Skip. “So you took me back here to see ropes and lanterns?” Ray replaced his hat, reached into his pocket, retrieved his father’s pocket watch, and spun it around his finger.
    â€œNo, wait.” Skip approached the fire scrim and Ray watched him peer around it. “All clear!” He motioned Ray over.
    Ray followed and they stepped out onto the stage. Whatever lever Skip had pulled not only lit behind the curtain but the entirety of this garden-in-progress. Ray held his hand to his forehead.
    It was a fairyland in the making. Even now, when it was just a phantom of soon-to-be-beauty, the leaves winding from the rafters and the painted vines and