Free Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) by Dane McCaslin

wonderful, Jo. I’ll just sit down and go over my notes to make sure that we’ve got everything together.’ She purposefully ignored Miss Lucinda, putting her plump back to her and walking to a nearby table.
    Miss Lucinda, not to be outdone, followed me and Leslie as we led the girls for their fittings.
    ‘I’d like a word, Jo,’ she announced, not bothering to lower her voice. Miss Bea’s head snapped up from her paperwork, an alarmed look on her face.

Chapter Eight
    I felt nervous, there was no denying it. The last thing I wanted was to become a pawn in the ongoing Battle of the Becklaw Women. Leslie gave me an apologetic glance, then directed Lily and Josie off to the ladies’ room. I stopped walking to let Miss Lucinda catch up, waiting for her to speak.
    Lucinda stood still a moment, more to catch her breath than for dramatic pause. In spite of her obvious handicap, this woman was one tough cookie.
    ‘I have decided to join Beatrice in this cockamamie outfit of hers. What job should I do?’ She stared at me with eyes that dared me to disagree.
    I didn’t.
    ‘Well,’ I began slowly, ‘Miss Bea oversees everything that we do. I suppose you’d better talk to her.’ There. I had extricated myself neatly from another Becklaw Pitfall.
    Lucinda Becklaw snorted, an almost horsy sound. I fully expected her to lift a hoof and paw the ground in front of us.
    ‘That Woman,’ she said, her voice issuing capital letters to the words, ‘is a dingbat.’
    I had to quickly stifle a grin. I hadn’t heard that epithet since watching reruns of All in the Family .
    ‘I’m sorry, dearest Lucy?’ The words were laden with sugary sweetness, the voice unrecognizable to me for its dangerously mellow tone. ‘I’m afraid I missed that last comment.’ Miss Bea had walked up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. ‘Jo, dear, run along and give Leslie a hand, won’t you?’
    I obeyed. Quickly.
    I scampered down the hall and didn’t look back. I don’t know what I was afraid of seeing: perhaps my beloved Miss Bea with claws in place of hands and fire issuing from her kindly mouth. I knew that was just a fancy but, from what I had just heard, it could have happened.
    Leslie was kneeling down in front of Lily when I walked in, pins bristling from her mouth in a parody of teeth.
    ‘Hng n a minit,’ she said, trying to speak without swallowing one of the little daggers.
    I looked around the small dressing area. Dresses with lace flounces and feather boas covered nearly every surface. The mirrored dressing table and the cushioned stool that stood in front of it, carried a load of acting minutiae; vials of thick stage make-up and jars of face cream were side by side with all manner of undergarments; push-up brassières and double-sided tape, along with girdles in all sizes, lay strewn around for everyone and their grandma to see.
    With Lily’s dress reconstructed to her satisfaction, Leslie came groaningly to her feet.
    ‘That carpet needs some new padding,’ she grumbled. ‘Where’s Miss Bea, Jo? I need her to see Lily’s dress before I make the changes for tonight.’ She bent down and plucked a box of straight pins off the floor.
    ‘Oh, I think that I’d trust your judgment on this one, Leslie,’ I said, cutting my eyes sideways at Lily to indicate ‘not in front of the newbie, Leslie’.
    She didn’t get it and babbled on. ‘I was just saying to Lily and Josie that Miss Bea is in the head honcho for everything we do in Becklaw’s, isn’t that right, Jo?’
    What was it with everyone trying conversationally to entrap me today?
    I didn’t have to answer, thank goodness. We three heard the sounds of rapid footsteps coming toward us. The door was flung open and in stepped Miss Bea, flames figuratively shooting from her eyes. Instinctively, I moved nearer to Leslie and Lily. I don’t why I did; Miss Bea wasn’t the type to murder me in my tracks … was she?
    ‘I have just been informed by my dear