Snow White Red-Handed (A Fairy Tale Fatal Mystery) by Maia Chance

Author:Maia Chance [Chance, Maia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Prue was dazzled by the ball. She and Hansel were both hidden behind the masks Hansel had brought, but no one would have noticed them, anyway. It was like a carnival. The flashes of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds in the crazy swirl of China silk, embroidery, and tulle made her woozy. She caught whiffs of fine French perfumes like Ma used to hoard: amber and musk, vanilla and bergamot. And dancing with Hansel, polonaises, waltzes, mazurkas, and polkas, amid the lavish throng—well, she felt like she’d arrived smack-dab in the center of the world.

For once, Prue figured Ma would approve of her doings. Supposing, that is, Ma didn’t know Hansel was just a gardener. Anyway, tonight Hansel really did call to mind a prince, though Prue found it tough to look straight at him. The sight of him made her chest go all loopy inside.

They were taking a breather by the champagne table when Prue felt a tap on her shoulder.

“You have been hiding from me,” Franz said. Same as last time, he looked like either an otter or a magician with his black evening clothes and Macassar-oiled dark hair. He didn’t wear a mask.

“I ain’t hiding from you,” Prue said. “It’s a masquerade ball.”

“But I wish to see your lovely face.”

“You ain’t keen on ladies of mystery?”

“There is nothing mysterious about you,” Franz said, trapping Prue in his wiry arms, “aside from your grammar. Come, give me a waltz, or I shall make good on my threat to notify the police that their murderess has escaped for an evening’s entertainment.”

Prue swallowed. Franz tugged Prue out on the glittering dance floor. Prue caught one last glimpse of Hansel, hot-eyed, gulping the rest of his champagne.

“Holy mackerel,” Prue said, a few dances in. She craned her neck as Franz whisked her by the refreshments table. She’d caught sight of Miss Gertie Darling.

“Mackerel,” Franz said in her ear, “is a fish, you gorgeous little dimwit.”

Prue stomped his foot.

“Ow!” he yelped.

“Begging your pardon, sir.” Her tone was treacly.

They thundered to a stop, right by Gertie.

Handy.

Franz bent to nurse his trodden toe.

Gertie stood at the helm of the wicker wheelchair again. Miss Upton, the old lady, was shriveled inside folds of black gown and shawl, scowling out from under her white bun. Her humped back sprouted two small fairy wings. Gertie was also dressed as a fairy. Her seafoam gossamer gown billowed, and her fairy wings could’ve been ship sails.

“Oh,” Gertie said over the music to Prue. “It’s you.”

Prue touched her mask; it was still in place. Gertie must have recognized her gown.

Franz stood. He and Gertie sized each other up. Gertie looked like she’d enjoy picking Franz up and tossing him out the window. Franz eyed Gertie with cool dismissal. Prue introduced them, watching for any sign that they knew each other.

If they did know each other, they were splendiferous actors.

“What brings you to Baden-Baden?” Franz said to Gertie in a bored voice.

Gertie gave the wheelchair handles a shake. “Is it not obvious?”

The old lady made a grunt and smacked one of the wheels.

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