A Dame Worth Killing by M. Ruth Myers

Author:M. Ruth Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ohio historical mystery series, 1940s private eye series, 1940s private investigator series, American woman private eye series, Ohio historical detective series
Publisher: Tuesday House
Published: 2022-02-25T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Thoughts of accidents, or still worse, kidnapping rushed through my mind. I felt cold to the bone.

“Mick, what is it? What’s happened?”

“She’s locked herself in her room.”

Seconds passed before I trusted my voice. “Locked herself in her room.”

“And she isn’t speaking to me. I thought maybe you could talk to her. Maybe get her to let you in and find out what’s wrong.” He started to frown. “Is something the matter?”

I put out a hand.

“Wait. Rachel and I have spent the last two hours guzzling cocktails. I need coffee.”

Dumping my handbag on the couch, I went into the kitchen. Seamus had made fresh coffee for supper, which judging by the clean plate and silverware on the drain board, he’d already had. The coffee was still warm enough to be passable without reheating. I carried a mug of it back into the front room, where Connelly stood with his hands in his pockets.

“Ah, Maggie, I’m sorry. I’d no business coming here, lying in wait like this and spoiling your good time.”

“It’s okay.” I pressed his arm in passing. The care required to lower myself to the couch without spilling my coffee showed me just how much celebrating Rachel and I had done. “Tell me why she locked herself in her room,” I said when I’d taken a few swallows.

“I don’t know. That’s the thing. She’s mad at me and I don’t know why.”

“There must have been something, or maybe you said something.”

“Well, she got kept after school. I had to go meet with her and the principal.” Connelly didn’t sound pleased. “But I didn’t scold, honestly.” He resumed his seat.

I was staring. Brigid was smart as a whip and a good student. From what I’d seen of her, she was also as well behaved as any kid who didn’t lick up to people could be.

“Why on earth did she get kept after school?”

“She shoved a girl on the playground and made her fall. The girl skinned her knee.”

“And the girl went crying to the nearest available nun, I have no doubt. For Pete’s sake, the kids are nine years old. Playground squabbles are a fact of life.” I’d had more than my share. Likewise, I was no stranger to being kept after school.

“She wouldn’t tell the sister why she pushed the girl, not even when I came.”

“Ah, the real offense.”

“When we got to the car I hugged her and she cried a little. On the way home I told her I knew she wouldn’t shove someone without a good reason, and I wished she’d tell me what it was. She hemmed and hawed and finally told me the girl – her name is Marie – said her ears stuck out so far she looked like a monkey. I said she should tell Marie ‘sticks and stones’ and she burst into tears.”

I shaded my eyes with my hand.

“Mick, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Tell her to say ‘sticks and stones’ and expect it to make her feel better.”

“What should I have said?”

“That the girl who

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