Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 02 - A String of Murders Read Online Free

hand and we followed Frances to the area in front of the dressing rooms.
    “We have just a few questions, a formality.”
    That sounded a bit like Columbo on the scent of the murderer. Did Frances mean her statement as encouragement or warning? Maybe it was time to call my lawyer. No , I decided again.
    “Was anything missing from the store when you checked just now?” Her pen poised over a notebook.
    I shook my head. “Nothing obvious. I’ll have to check against the inventory list on my home computer.” I had updated it only last weekend, a blessing in light of the present circumstances.
    Reiner lifted something sealed in an evidence bag—a piece of paper. But why? I doubted that the murderer had left a signed confession. The chief held it where I could read it through the plastic. Plain white paper, a computer printout of some kind. Audie and I leaned closer to read the words of the message. Its single paragraph grabbed me by the throat.
    I know what you’re doing. Meet me at Cici’s Vintage Clothing at 8:30 p.m. Saturday night.
    My mind whirled. Who on earth—
    “Did you send this message, Cici?”
    Reiner’s eyes bored into me, their accusation plain.
    Not only murder. Blackmail.
    Reiner’s unspoken accusation broke my trance.
    “Of course not.” I snapped my mouth shut and stared at the paper, committing the contents to memory. “That’s a stupid question. I’m not. . .” I looked at the page again. “Jerry Burton.”
    First Elsie Holland on the strange e-mail that Jessie Gaynor received, and now Jerry Burton. Had Jessie told the chief about the threat, since they were related and all?
    “How about you, Mr. Howe?” Reiner’s glare increased in intensity as he stared at my fiancé.
    Audie folded in on himself, a trait I noticed when he puzzled through a problem. My heart went out to him. Come on, sweetheart, give us one of those great Oscar Wilde quotes you love so much.
    “‘One can survive everything, nowadays, except death,’” he said more to himself than to anyone else.
    I relaxed. As long as Audie could remember Wilde, everything was right in his world. Trust him to have a good quip for unexpected death.
    Reiner didn’t appreciate the humor. He repeated his question. “Did you send this email, Audie?”
    “What?” Audie frowned. “No. Of course not. You have heard about the e-mails circulating from ‘Elsie Holland’?”
    Reiner waited for him to expand.
    “Jessie Gaynor.” I supplied one name. “But who’s the other one?”
    Audie hesitated. “I received one. It was in my inbox when I turned on my computer at work today. From this same Elsie Holland person, whoever she is.” He explained his theory about the alias to the chief.
    “You could have written an e-mail to yourself.” Reiner blew through his Teddy Roosevelt mustache. “But right now we want to track down Jerry Burton.” Again he questioned Audie with his eyes.
    “I think you’ll find that Jerry Burton also is an alias. He was the hero in the same book by Agatha Christie that featured Elsie Holland.”
    Reiner looked like he wanted to dispute Audie’s conclusion, but he knew that he was probably right. “We’ll have to see the e-mail that Ms. Holland sent to you.” He returned to the subject of the message Audie had received.
    Audie shook his head. “I deleted it and emptied the trashcan on the computer. It’s gone.”
    “Was it along the same lines? Unspecific accusations?” This time Frances asked the question.
    “Yes.” He didn’t expand. “Was the victim holding that e-mail in his hand? The hand that wasn’t holding the pearls?”
    Reiner looked at Frances but didn’t speak.
    “It must have been,” I answered Audie’s question. “Maybe not in his hands, but somewhere in the store.”
    “How would you know that?” Did you put it there yourself? Reiner’s tone implied.
    I explained the reasoning behind my guess. “You must have found it here, or you wouldn’t be asking about it. And it