Missed Connections: Book 0 by Alexandria Clarke

Author:Alexandria Clarke
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: mystery, mystery bundle, mystery art, mystery dinner, mystery drama, mystery ficton, mystery adult, mystery fun
Publisher: Roger Hayden

An hour into the performance, Payne doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Oh, God,” he groaned. “Something I ate didn’t agree with me.”

“Probably a combo of too much white wine and all of those crab rolls,” I said. He was turning green. I took a step back. “Payne, get out of here if you’re going to hurl.”

He made a break for the exit, clapping a hand over his mouth. I slumped against the wall of the concert hall. These heels were not doing me any favors. The circulation in my toes had completely cut off, and we weren’t at intermission yet. For the next half hour, I switched from standing on one foot to the other. Payne didn’t return. Indisposed, I guessed.

Right before intermission, Kyle Fisher stood. He wriggled out of his row, doing his best not to disrupt the other guests watching the ballet. He nodded politely to me as he ducked out of the theater. I smiled back. Then I looked at the woman in the red dress. She shifted, planted her palms on either armrest as if to lift herself from her seat as well, but when she looked at the door Fisher disappeared through, she found me instead. For a split second, we stared at each other, unblinking. Then the woman settled in her seat again, crossed one long leg over the other, and watched the rest of the performance. Her gaze never wavered from the stage.

A few minutes later, when the lights went up for intermission, Fisher had not returned from his bathroom break. I slipped out of the concert hall before the rest of the crowd and waited for the woman in the red dress to exit. Most of the guests hastened to the restrooms or to the bar to refill their drinks, but when the woman emerged, she strode purposefully through the crowd and up the stairs to the mezzanine. I followed her at a safe distance.

The woman beelined for the balcony on the second floor, where the arts center held fashion shows and other outdoor events during the warmer seasons. She never faltered or looked around. Several glass doors led to the balcony. She glanced through each one until she found what she was looking for. Several paces behind her, I steadied my gait and slipped behind a large stone bust to stay hidden. I peered through the glass door at my side for a glimpse of whatever the woman was staring at. Kyle Fisher stood on the balcony, smoking a cigarette.

The woman hiked the train of her dress all the way up to her thigh and drew a knife—one with a curved, serrated blade—from a holster there. She twisted the handle of the balcony door, blade at the ready.

“Hey!” I shouted, sprinting down the corridor and trying to free my shield from beneath my dress at the same time. “Freeze! Officer—Detective Sheila Arden. You’re under arrest!”

She booked it. One second, she was halfway through the door to the balcony, and the next she was tearing down the corridor toward the emergency exit.

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