[Dorothy Parker 01] - The Broadway Murders by Agata Stanford

Author:Agata Stanford [Stanford, Agata]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780982754207
Google: 8PDHZKcg30oC
Goodreads: 9562381
Publisher: Jenevacris Press
Published: 2010-06-14T23:00:00+00:00

“I insist that you desist!” shouted Aleck.

His great bulk towered over me, but I knew that his rumbling voice was only for effect. Never could, or would, Aleck be a physical bully; I was safe, as long as he didn’t suddenly pass out and topple over to crush me.

“Your meddling in these murders is too dangerous. Someone out there is killing people! Whoever it is might think you know something, even if you don’t, and then he’ll come after you. And then where will you be?”

“Dead?”

“What would we do without our Mrs. Parker?”

“Mrs. Parker, you can’t abandon this world for us to spend all our evenings with Edna Ferber for company,” agreed Mr. Benchley, “should the killer knock you off, too.”

“If the killer got me, I wouldn’t expect you to enjoy your evenings at all,” I whispered. “So Edna would ensure your misery.”

“Selfish little witch! Aleck’s right, you know!” said Mr. Benchley. “He’ll just have to tag along with us, like a heavy, to protect his darling Dottie.”

We all snorted.

FPA returned to the table. “You kids gone bonkers? What’s all this about desisting, and why is Dottie in danger?”

I looked over at him and realized that the man was totally lost in a world of crazy doubletalk that he was unable to decipher. After all, FPA knew nothing of our investigations.

With his promise that everything we were going to tell him had to be kept out of his column, we retraced our movements since the day of Reggie’s death.

“So let me get this straight—” said Frank, waving his stogie.

“I sure hope you can straighten this whole thing out, Frank,” said Mr. Benchley.

FPA looked up at the chandelier as if its crystals held the answers to the mystery. He puffed out a smoke ring, and chewed on his cigar for a long moment, appearing to ruminate on his words before spitting them out:

“This is how I see it: Somebody murdered RIP, and tried to make it look like an accident. That same person killed Lucille, and it sure didn’t look like an accident. Now, they find Marion Fields, killed, and it looks like an accident, again, but it’s no accident, I’d say, and she is no longer on the list of suspects for murders one and two.” He came down from the chandelier to look at each of us in turn. “All I can figure out is that everyone connected to RIP is dropping like flies! I say it’s probably best to let the cops try to sort it all out.”

“The voice of reason,” said Aleck, thumping his fist on the table. “Thank you very much, Frank.”

“Yes, Frank,” I said, “Thank you for making me totally confused.”

“How’d she get it, Aleck?” asked Frank.

“Hit by a car, corner Broadway and 46th,” said Aleck.

The Reginald Pierce Theatre was on 46th. I asked if there were any witnesses.

“Rush hour. About fifty witnesses saw it happen.”

“So then, maybe it wasn’t murder,” said Mr. Benchley. “It may just be coincidence.”

“Please, you know how I feel about coincidences.

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