Free A Date With Death: Cozy Private Investigator Series (Flora Lively Mysteries Book 2) by Joanne Phillips Page B

Vincenzo, what’s his role?’
    ‘He’s an Italian spy, reporting back to Napoleon’s army on the location of deserters.’ Celeste’s shoulders drooped. ‘It’s not a very good film.’
    Flora said nothing.
    ‘Flora Lively? Traje .’
    Gabriella stood over Flora with a purple dress draped across both arms. She kept her eyes on a point in the far distance. Her body language said bored, but also wary. ‘ Traje ,’ she repeated. Flora got to her feet and looked to Celeste for translation.
    ‘Costume,’ explained Celeste. ‘She seems to think you need a costume.’ Celeste lowered her voice and whispered in Flora’s ear. ‘I don’t think she’s very bright. She’s got you mixed up with one of us.’
    ‘Actually, I think it might be for me. That is, I am going to be … Well, the thing is …’ Flora swallowed. Celeste’s eyes were boring into her. ‘The thing is, Alberto offered me a small part in the film. It’s nothing, just a guest at dinner, or something. I’m sure I’ll be rubbish at it.’
    ‘Yes. I’m sure you will be.’
    Her friend’s expression was unreadable. Gabriella shoved the gown under Flora’s nose.
    ‘Flora Lively, sí ?’
    ‘Thank you. Erm, gracias .’ Flora smiled at the younger woman. It was the first time she’d heard her speak, but even to Flora’s amateur ear, Gabriella’s accent sounded different to that of the rest of the crew. Gabriella didn’t return her smile. She practically threw the gown into Flora’s arms and retreated back to her station.
    ‘What’s this?’ said a voice at her side. ‘You following in our Celeste’s footsteps now?’
    Flora smiled up at Jack. ‘Hardly. I’m an extra, nothing more.’
    ‘Jack, what a lovely surprise.’ Celeste slipped her arm through his and hugged him close. ‘Did Alberto invite you to dinner?’
    ‘Sure did. I think he wants me around after what happened today. Your boyfriend is a bit of a liability.’
    ‘He’s a pussycat. Alberto just winds him up, is all. Speak of the devil,’ she muttered.
    The director was strutting across the lawn towards them. Flora could see Marshall putting the finishing touches to the slightly fuzzy backdrop of painted English countryside he’d just erected. The backdrop had been lit to mimic the sun dipping on the horizon, and the effect in the twilit garden was unsettling but also kind of beautiful. Flora gave an involuntary sigh.
    ‘Miss Lively, have you learned your lines?’ Alberto inquired, giving one of his trademark winks.
    ‘Line, more like,’ Flora said, catching Celeste’s furious expression.
    ‘You’ll be brilliant,’ Jack told her. ‘Break a leg!’
    ‘Oh, please.’ Celeste yawned. ‘I think it’s time for a cocktail.’
    ***
    ‘What are you wearing?’
    Flora froze, her hand flying up to her chest. She’d been hoping to avoid Marshall, but no such luck. Here he was, his face flushed and his hazel eyes glaring, his voice cutting across the gardens like a hunting horn. He was not going to be happy about this.
    Not that she could blame him. She’d had her own misgivings, looking in the mirror back at the house. Flora didn’t kid herself that she could carry off a dress like this one – she was too short, for one thing, and too narrow in the hips. The cap sleeves covered her tattoo, thank goodness, but the low-cut purple gown gaped across her chest. At least the bodice fit snugly at her waist. Too snugly, if Marshall’s expression was any indication.
    She told him about her new role in the film, striding ahead towards the set where Alberto and the others were waiting.
    ‘You are not doing it, and that’s final.’ Marshall’s tone was firm. He was wearing the baseball cap he saved for bad-hair days, or just for days when he felt like making a statement. It was blue and white with a union flag embroidered on the top. He said his gran had embroidered it, but Flora wasn’t sure whether he’d made that up. He could just as easily have bought it in a