Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle by Pauline Jones (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

been using since the discovery of the first body. With a respectful nod, he held the door for her to enter, then closed it quietly behind her.

He’d found the shoeboxes. They were stacked in piles taller than her around the room.

Which is probably why she didn’t notice the corpse right away.

19

Artie was shaking as he fumbled some coins into the slot, then sank onto the closest empty bench. With a jerk, the trolley moved forward, the motion barely moving the air around the stuffy interior.

As he waited for his heartbeat to slow, he pulled out a large handkerchief and mopped his damp forehead, then swabbed at the moisture that had collected around his shirt collar. Pity about Harriet. But couldn’t be helped. Should have taken her loss on the chin instead of showing up at the party with an attitude.

“Are you all right?”

He couldn’t repress a slight flinch as he searched for a face to fit the female voice. He didn’t have to look far. In the seat just behind his was an older woman, a plain woman with her graying hair neatly styled beneath a straw hat with a narrow brim decorated with a small bunch of dried flowers. Her clothes were also neat and plain, except for the astrological sign pinned to her lapel. There was a look in her faded eyes that Artie recognized.

He shrugged the slump from his shoulders, his hand moving automatically to his tie. He smiled, using equal parts charm and wan.

“It’s the heat, I think. Guess I’m not used to.”

“You’re from out of town?” A delicate pink touched the pale cheeks.

“From Cleveland. Here on business. But enough about me. Tell me about you—

Like a flower getting needed rain, her smile bloomed on her face.

“You opening a shoe store?” Luci asked from the doorway.

“Come in and shut the door.” Mickey watched her comply with his request, then lean against the closed door. She looked good against the stark wooden surface, the crossed ankles and calves hinting at further glories hidden by her party skirt. The shadows that hid her expression made her even harder to read than usual. “I’m sure what’s inside will be a big surprise to you.”

She stopped by one stack of boxes and lifted the lid to look at the neat rows of dollar bills. Her brows rose. “Are they all one dollar bills?”

Mickey nodded. “At least now I know what Dante wanted,” he said. “Somehow he must have found out about the scam that Reggie and whoever killed him ran and wanted to be cut in.”

“Well, well. Reggie, you old dog.”

“What do you mean?”

Luci gave a slight laugh. “He cheated fate. A dollar at a time. Finally got his successful scam.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a sigh as she fingered the bills, then closed the lid. “And then fate squashed him like a bug.”

“It might not have been his scam,” Mickey said. “We haven’t been able to match any of the prints we’ve found in the house to his.”

Luci seemed to find this interesting. “Really?” She frowned. “But if Reggie wasn’t here, how did he wind up under a bush?”

“Unless—”

Luci looked at him. “—the man they thought was Reggie—”

“—wasn’t,” Mickey finished. “Whoever it is, he was a busy bee at the party.” He walked over to a chair and turned it to face Luci, watching her face as the slumped body came into view. Though brief, it was surprise that flickered across her face. “Don’t suppose you recognize her?”

Luci was more than surprised. She studied the older woman dressed with a certain dowdy elegance, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu, if only she could figure out why…

“How come you aren’t doing the dust and poke thing?”

“Because Crime Scene is still working upstairs. And—” he was almost shuffling his feet, she noticed with amusement. “I didn’t notice her right away.”

“She looks like she’s sleeping.” Luci crouched down in front of the body and peered at her face, her sense that she was on the verge of a moment of clarity growing stronger.

“No kidding. I even tried to wake her up. That’s when I discovered the bullet hole. Looks like she was plugged right through the heart. Close range, too if the powder burns are any indication.”

“My elderly hitters?”

“I don’t think so. Different caliber weapon. I’m betting it’ll turn out to be the same gun that killed Max, Reggie, and the frozen John Doe. Our geriatric hitters were carrying a silenced 9mm Luger.”

Luci looked up at him. “Why didn’t we hear these shots? I mean, the music wasn’t that loud.”

“Killer used pillows to muffle the sound. Found one under her chair with her purse and the one used on Max was tossed behind the bed.”

“Really? How very enterprising.” She stood up, but continued to stare at the body, straining for that niggling something that was just out of mental reach.

“What?”

Luci looked up and gave a little shake. Mickey didn’t like hearing what she could remember. No reason to share what she couldn’t. “Odd coincidence we had two killers operating in the same house on the same day. Even for Seymours, I think it’s a record.”

“What makes you think it is a coincidence?” Mickey stepped closer, risking her volatile proximity so he could monitor her reaction.

“What else could it be?” The honest surprise in her eyes deflected suspicion, but he still felt she knew more than she was telling him.

“It has to be, doesn’t it? You just said that my elderly couple didn’t do this.”

“Just seems like too much of a coincidence. Wondered if you had any ideas?” Her smile was the one that always curled his toes. Made his shoes and his heart feel tight.

“You never like my ideas. They make your head ache.”

Mickey shifted impatiently. “That’s because—”

He stopped himself from finishing the sentence. Being told her ideas made no sense wouldn’t encourage her to share what she knew. And there was no getting away from the fact that her family’s pervasive personality played