Hardcover(First World Publication)
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Overview
When Jessie is asked by her idol, the famous actress Mary Pickford, if she can do some private investigating for her, Jessie reluctantly accepts. A girl was found stabbed in her bedroom with another woman lying unconscious on the floor next to her, a bloody knife in her hand. With no police investigation into the murder, it’s up to Jessie to hone her amateur detective skills and prove the girls innocence before she hangs for murder.
But as Jessie travels through the roaring twenties world of Hollywood and movies, surreptitiously interviewing fellow travelling performers, she struggles to find the connection she needs. And with her love interest David seemingly involved in seedy dealings, can she uncover the killer’s identity before she too is endangered?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780727886538 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Severn House |
| Publication date: | 12/01/2016 |
| Series: | Roaring Twenties Mystery Series , #3 |
| Edition description: | First World Publication |
| Pages: | 240 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.40(w) x 8.60(h) x 1.00(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
With folded arms, the Klansmen huddled closer. I tried to go around. They only snickered and shifted to block me, first right, then left, toying with me, cat-and-mouse fashion. “You say she put her hands on a nigger?” said one muffled voice. “What, like this?” And he reached over and grabbed my bosom.
Without hesitating a second, I aimed a hard kick at his shin. But my foot got caught up in the folds of fabric, and I lost my balance. Rough hands caught my shoulders and kept me from falling to the ground. “No, like this,” someone said. I fought back, but all that drapery made it impossible to land a kick. My cries for help fell on deaf ears—the station had cleared quickly of passengers, and the only person not wearing a robe was the hapless porter.
“Hey, now,” the skinny man said nervously. “You leave that young lady alone.”
The Klansmen hooted. “Mind your own business, Jinks,” said one. “Go on home now and keep shut if you know what’s good for you,” said another.
Jinks knew what was good for him. He skulked away.
Several cars ahead of us, a conductor called the all-aboard. I pushed hard against the man who was holding me and lashed out with both arms, but with so many, it was child’s play to pin my arms behind my back and grope my breasts. Hands pulled my shirtwaist out of its belt and squeezed underneath. Other hands held my flailing legs and felt up under my skirt. I screamed to the conductor, but the train’s whistle drowned out any sound I made. No one could see me. I had disappeared into what must have looked like a large pile of laundry.
“I think this little slut is disturbing the peace, what do you think, George?”
“Go ahead—call the sheriff!” I spat. “I’ll have you arrested for assault.”
The engine squealed and the train lurched forward with a huff. Still time to jump onto the ladder if I could break free.
There was much sniggering at my remark until someone called out, “Oh Sheriff!” in a simpering, high-pitched voice. One of the Klansmen standing in front of me pulled off his hood and blessed me with a malicious smile. “At your service, Bill. Looks like I’m gonna need to arrest someone for assault. Any of you men want to press charges against this shameless hoyden?”
There was a lot of joshing. “Arrest me too, Sheriff. Put us in the same cell.”
The engineer blew the whistle again. The train chugged forward, picking up speed with every second.
“Good work in apprehending this violent criminal,” the sheriff said. “I’ll take over from here, men. Think a couple nights in the hoosegow might tame the little whore? At least it’ll serve as an example to nigger lovers everywhere.”
A round of laughter greeted this witticism. Whoever was holding my arms threw me at the sheriff’s chest. His powerful hands grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me ‘til my brains were scrambled, then dragged me toward the street, gripping my arm so tight it went numb. His other hand circled my neck, ready to choke off any call for help I might be tempted to make. The deputy loping along beside us had pulled off his hood too, so passersby would see nothing more alarming than two officers of the law escorting a dishevelled young woman to jail.
Such precautions proved unnecessary; we passed no one except other white-robed figures on our way to the jail, just two short blocks away. It was nearly dark. Redfield’s population had retreated behind curtains and closed doors. No one was watching. I knew very well how the script would go once we arrived at the jail. They would put me in a cell and take turns.