A Question of Murder by Jessica Fletcher; Donald Bain

Author:Jessica Fletcher; Donald Bain
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Women Detectives, Murder, Mystery & Detective, Radio and Television Novels, General, Massachusetts, Mystery Fiction, Women Sleuths, Fiction, Women Novelists, Jessica (Fictitious Character), Fletcher
ISBN: 9780451218179
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2006-04-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The daughter of a former U.S. president has

written more than twenty murder mysteries set in

Washington, D.C. Who is she?

The rest of the second act went smoothly. I’ve always been impressed with the way the actors and actresses chosen by the Savoys were able to ad-lib, both onstage and with members of the audience. The scripts used in the productions, written by Melinda Savoy, were loosely constructed, leaving plenty of room for improvisation.

Carboroni returned to the stage with the maid, Catarina, in tow, and she histrionically overplayed the fear she was supposed to be experiencing at having to face her employer, the formidable Monroe Whittaker. It was all entertaining theater, and the audience enjoyed it immensely. The act ended with Catarina loudly denying that she’d found Monroe’s weapon and given it to his wife. There was more comic interplay between Carboroni and Dolt, broad, slapstick humor that had the onlookers laughing heartily. Of course, a Savoy production would not be complete without the actor who played the detective coming into the audience and questioning those who looked as though they might provide interesting, funny answers. The curtain closed with Catarina standing center stage and pleading for someone to come forward and help her. A couple of people started to do just that, but Larry Savoy stepped in front of them and announced, “Before you commit yourself to helping Catarina, think twice. She may not be the innocent young woman you think she is.” He started to put down the mike, then raised it to his mouth again and said, “Detective Carboroni and Officer Dolt will be making a special effort to interrogate more of you today. Be careful what you say—or you may end up in a pair of cold steel handcuffs.”

I slipped out of the auditorium the moment the curtain closed. I could find Larry later. I wanted to see where Georgie Wick and Detective Ladd had gone. They weren’t in the immediate vicinity, so I headed down a hallway in the direction of the private room Mark Egmon had provided for the detective. The door was shut when I approached, but I could hear Ladd’s voice and that of a woman through it. I looked around to ensure I was alone. Satisfied, I pressed my ear to the door and strained to hear what was being said. Ladd’s voice was the softer of the two; the woman’s was more clearly audible.

“. . . And, yes, I fired off the pistol when the script called for it,” she said.

“Where?”

“Offstage, in the hallway that leads backstage.”

“And you saw no one else in that vicinity?”

“No. I was alone and—”

“Ah, Jessica. Always with an ear to the ground—or in this instance, to the door.”

I turned to face John Chasseur. He was grinning, his pearly white teeth vivid against his tanned face.

“Goodness! You startled me,” I said.

“Eavesdropping, I see. Is that how you get information for your books?”

“On occasion,” I said, embarrassed to be caught.

The door opened. Detective Ladd looked from me to Chasseur, his quizzical expression asking the obvious question.

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