Read Online Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) by E. E. Kennedy - Free Book Online
Authors: E. E. Kennedy
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harm, but I must ask you, implore you, to keep whatever you heard strictly confidential.”
I could do that. I nodded.
“Okay.”
“Would you mind telling me what it was you did hear?”
“Sure, um, you met some girl at the tire department. She was scared, I could tell that.” I counted off what else I remembered on my fingers. “You said she was in danger and she should have stayed where she was, and . . . and . . . you were going to have to speak to Pat, and her name was Eileen. The girl’s, I mean, not Pat’s.”
Terence heaved a deep sigh, leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, I guess you did hear pretty much all of it. Did you see us too?”
“Well, you, not her. She was gone when I looked. But I know who it is. It’s that new girl, Janey, isn’t it? Why is she in danger? What did she do?”
“Nothing. She just saw something. And heard something, a little bit like you.” His eyebrows lifted meaningfully.
“But why did she have to come here? You said you owed her father a lot. Is that it?”
Terence rolled his eyes. “You heard that too? Begad, girl, are you always this nosy?”
I was offended. “I’m not nosy and I wasn’t spying. Lily and I were there first. You and Janey, Eileen—whatever her name is—came later. We were just taking turns using the restroom. I couldn’t help what I heard!” Realizing that I was raising my voice, I added, more quietly, “I wasn’t spying.”
Terence glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get the tryouts started. Look, if you promise not to breathe a syllable of this to anyone, then I promise I’ll explain to you exactly what it’s all about later on. Can I trust you?”
I nodded gravely. I thought about crossing my heart, but decided against it.
He frowned. “Lives are at stake, Amelia. It really is life and death. And it depends on you.”
I nodded again, feeling a heavy weight descend on me. It felt a little like fear.
Suddenly, his expression totally changed. “Well then, let’s go to the dance tryouts! Are you trying out?” He rose from his seat and headed for the office door.
“I-I was going to. I am.”
He laughed and opened the door. “Why, of course you are. Why did I have to ask?”
~~~
“I didn’t know anything about that secret stuff,” Gil remarked as we ate breakfast the next day.
“Of course you didn’t. That’s why they call that kind of thing secret. Nobody else did, either. At least, not for a while.”
He drained his orange juice and grimaced. “What is this stuff?”
“It’s frozen. I wasn’t sure how many cans of water to use when I mixed it. Is it too thin or too thick?” I stood, ready to try to remedy the situation.
He looked at the empty glass. “It’s just too—bad. Just dump it out, honey. This instant coffee is okay.” He lifted his cup. “Now, tell me about that dance tryout. I wasn’t there.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Do you know ‘The Waltz of the Flowers’?” I asked Irene Chavez, the dark-haired, long-boned pianist. “By Tchaikovsky,” I added for good measure.
I’d made up my mind; I’d prove myself a performer of Broadway caliber. It was a rather desperate effort. The only dance routine I knew was one my sister did in her ballet recital, and mine was a pale imitation. Still, I was determined to give it a try. The Great White Way beckoned.
“Certainly.”
Irene nodded and struck an opening chord. Her large brown eyes contained just the slightest shade of patient amusement. Her long fingers immediately began pounding out the familiar tune. Of course she knew Tchaikovsky! Irene, apparently, knew and could play anything.
Gritting my teeth, I strode to the center of the stage and started frolicking around to the music, bobbing, skipping, and twirling, raising my arms in approximations of the graceful ovals that Lily and my sister would often assume. I pointed my toes and took a running leap, landing on the side of my foot and collapsing with a loud thump on
I could do that. I nodded.
“Okay.”
“Would you mind telling me what it was you did hear?”
“Sure, um, you met some girl at the tire department. She was scared, I could tell that.” I counted off what else I remembered on my fingers. “You said she was in danger and she should have stayed where she was, and . . . and . . . you were going to have to speak to Pat, and her name was Eileen. The girl’s, I mean, not Pat’s.”
Terence heaved a deep sigh, leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, I guess you did hear pretty much all of it. Did you see us too?”
“Well, you, not her. She was gone when I looked. But I know who it is. It’s that new girl, Janey, isn’t it? Why is she in danger? What did she do?”
“Nothing. She just saw something. And heard something, a little bit like you.” His eyebrows lifted meaningfully.
“But why did she have to come here? You said you owed her father a lot. Is that it?”
Terence rolled his eyes. “You heard that too? Begad, girl, are you always this nosy?”
I was offended. “I’m not nosy and I wasn’t spying. Lily and I were there first. You and Janey, Eileen—whatever her name is—came later. We were just taking turns using the restroom. I couldn’t help what I heard!” Realizing that I was raising my voice, I added, more quietly, “I wasn’t spying.”
Terence glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get the tryouts started. Look, if you promise not to breathe a syllable of this to anyone, then I promise I’ll explain to you exactly what it’s all about later on. Can I trust you?”
I nodded gravely. I thought about crossing my heart, but decided against it.
He frowned. “Lives are at stake, Amelia. It really is life and death. And it depends on you.”
I nodded again, feeling a heavy weight descend on me. It felt a little like fear.
Suddenly, his expression totally changed. “Well then, let’s go to the dance tryouts! Are you trying out?” He rose from his seat and headed for the office door.
“I-I was going to. I am.”
He laughed and opened the door. “Why, of course you are. Why did I have to ask?”
~~~
“I didn’t know anything about that secret stuff,” Gil remarked as we ate breakfast the next day.
“Of course you didn’t. That’s why they call that kind of thing secret. Nobody else did, either. At least, not for a while.”
He drained his orange juice and grimaced. “What is this stuff?”
“It’s frozen. I wasn’t sure how many cans of water to use when I mixed it. Is it too thin or too thick?” I stood, ready to try to remedy the situation.
He looked at the empty glass. “It’s just too—bad. Just dump it out, honey. This instant coffee is okay.” He lifted his cup. “Now, tell me about that dance tryout. I wasn’t there.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Do you know ‘The Waltz of the Flowers’?” I asked Irene Chavez, the dark-haired, long-boned pianist. “By Tchaikovsky,” I added for good measure.
I’d made up my mind; I’d prove myself a performer of Broadway caliber. It was a rather desperate effort. The only dance routine I knew was one my sister did in her ballet recital, and mine was a pale imitation. Still, I was determined to give it a try. The Great White Way beckoned.
“Certainly.”
Irene nodded and struck an opening chord. Her large brown eyes contained just the slightest shade of patient amusement. Her long fingers immediately began pounding out the familiar tune. Of course she knew Tchaikovsky! Irene, apparently, knew and could play anything.
Gritting my teeth, I strode to the center of the stage and started frolicking around to the music, bobbing, skipping, and twirling, raising my arms in approximations of the graceful ovals that Lily and my sister would often assume. I pointed my toes and took a running leap, landing on the side of my foot and collapsing with a loud thump on
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