How to Crash a Killer Bash by Penny Warner Read Free Book Online Page B

the security guard.”
    That stopped me for a second. While Detective Melvin drummed his fingers on the desk, I tried to come up with an explanation.
    “Inside or outside?”
    The detective stopped drumming and frowned.
    “Was it locked from the inside or the outside?”
    “Inside.”
    Uh-oh. That would make it look like Dee locked it after she entered.
    Detective Melvin waited.
    “Look,” I said, leaning in. I felt like a passionate prosecutor trying to convince a skeptical jury. “Anyone could have locked that door after Dee entered—to make it look like she was the last person in there. They could have reached in and locked it without her knowing. And that means anyone could have come in there and stabbed Mary Lee— before Dee even went in there.”
    Detective Melvin blinked. I could see the wheels turning and thought I had him. Then he said, “But the killer stabbed her with something sharp, then replaced the weapon with the Styrofoam knife. Delicia Jackson was the last one in that room. And her hands were covered in blood.”

Chapter 5

    PARTY PLANNING TIP #5
    When it’s time to reveal the killer at your Murder Mystery Party, have him or her confess. Otherwise you may hear a number of inappropriate accusations hurled at several of your other guests.
    After Detective Melvin dismissed me, I found Brad just leaving the crime scene room. He’d just ducked under the yellow police tape in the entryway that the police had used to cordon off the area.
    I ran up to him. “Brad!”
    “Not now, Presley,” he said abruptly, brushing past me.
    I backed up, taken by surprise at his change in mood. What the hell was up with him?
    I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Could you at least get me in there to see Delicia? I’m sure she’s upset and needs a friend.”
    Brad glanced back at the police officer standing guard, hands folded across his crotch. He stepped over, said something to the cop, then returned. “He’ll let you in to see her. But don’t do anything—”
    “Stupid,” I said, finishing his sentence. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” I glared at him.
    “Not now, Presley,” he said, and took off across the vast, empty room.
    I looked at the officer, wondering briefly what a crime scene cleaner could say to an officer that would get me inside. Heading over, I smiled sweetly at him, then ducked under the tape before he could change his mind.
    Delicia sat in a folding chair, near where a small table had been brought in. She was shaking her head and mumbling to herself as I approached her. She jerked her head up the moment she saw me. I expected her to stand up and hug me. Instead, she stiffened and returned her gaze to the table.
    Something was seriously wrong.
    “Delicia, are you all right?” I pulled out another folding chair next to her, sat down, and put my hand on her shoulder.
    She shook it off. “What do you think is wrong?” she snapped and pulled off her titian wig.
    This was not the Delicia I knew and loved.
    “It’s going to be okay, Dee. They’ll find out who did this and—”
    Her head whipped around to face me, her tearstained face filled with hurt and rage. “Don’t you get it? They think I did it! I was in that room with her, alone. And I have her blood on me.”
    “That’s just circumstantial—”
    She cut me off. “They know about my relationship with Corbin.”
    “That doesn’t mean you—”
    “And someone conveniently overheard me say I wanted to kill her and told the cops!”
    I had a feeling the word “someone” was meant for me.
    “No, Dee. I didn’t tell Detective Melvin that. I didn’t tell him anything that would incriminate you. I know you didn’t do it.”
    She said nothing as more tears welled in her eyes.
    “Besides,” I continued, “the knife you handled was made out of Styrofoam. There’s no way it could have killed her.”
    She blinked back the tears. “He said I switched the knives, that I used the real one to