Murder in the Past Tense (Miss Prentice Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) by E. E. Kennedy Read Free Book Online Page A

Look at what’s she’s wearing!”
    “Who’s wearing?” I whispered back.
    “That girl there. She’s got on a yellow flowered sundress. I think it’s the one Pat bought at Vickery’s.”
    “You’re right!” I whispered back.
    Terence clapped his hands. “Quiet everyone! Let’s get started! Act Two.”
    Max opens the act by singing “What’s Your Pleasure?” expressing the artist’s frustration at not being able to sell his abstract paintings. He ends the song by throwing a large painting out the window into the street, where it remains.
    As Max storms out of his flat, he finds Beatrice crying on the stairs. She tells him that there is only one fragile leaf left on Johnsie’s vine. He sings with her “If I Could Believe,” which gives Beatrice courage to mount the steps and try again to pull Johnsie out of her deathwatch.
    As Max contemplates the girls’ problem, an art dealer, Leonard Price, enters with the remains of Max’s painting and in a comic scene sings “ Caveat Emptor —Let the Buyer Beware!” and offers to try to sell Max’s work.
    There is a reprise of Johnsie’s miserable song of self-pity and doom, ending when Beatrice angrily tells her sister that she has turned down a marriage proposal to help her. Johnsie seems even more determined to die soon.
    That night, in an act of unselfish love, Max mounts a tall ladder outside Johnsie’s window and paints a lifelike picture of a leaf on the wall. The bitter cold makes the task extremely difficult, and Max works most of the night, singing a different, unselfish version of the faithless Lover’s farewell song, “I’m Doing This for You.”
    At sunrise Johnsie wakes and is surprised to find the leaf still firmly attached to the wall. She sings the delicate “I’ve Always Loved Mornings,” demonstrating a renewed interest in life. She asks for soup, and an overjoyed Beatrice hastens to prepare it. As the soup cooks, Beatrice writes a letter to Mick, promising to join him in a month.
    Outside, a policeman finds the frozen body of Max slumped at the base of the ladder, just as Max’s friend Leonard Price arrives with the good news that he has found a buyer for the artist’s work.
    I was so involved in the story; I almost forgot to say my one lonely line. It took a nudge from Lily and some pointed stares from the rest of the company.
    “A tragedy, that’s what it is. A real shame,” I blurted, forgetting to use the Irish accent I had decided would lend credence to my part.
    The read-through continued.
    The sunrise lends a glow to the scene (Terence told us to imagine this) and the chorus sings “I’m Doing This for You” as Max’s body is carried off and the curtain falls.
    ~~~
    “You’ve got to admit,” Gil said over our TV dinners that night as we continued our remembering, “those were the sappiest lyrics ever written. And that soap opera of a plot! I couldn’t ever figure out how all of you could do it with a straight face.” He speared the square of microwaved meat loaf that he’d carved and popped it in his mouth.
    I leaned forward with my napkin. “You’ve got a spot of gravy on your shirt.”
    He grinned. “Nice way to change the subject.” But he sat patiently as I dabbed at him. “Finished?”
    I nodded and returned to my own favorite, turkey and dressing. “For your information, it’s a true classic, based on a short story by O. Henry.”
    Gil nodded and spooned gravy into the little mashed potato section of his plastic plate. “I know, I know, the guy who wrote ‘The Gift of the Magi.’ Didn’t we have to read it in English class? That’s another sappy one. She sells her hair to buy him a watch fob, and he sells his watch to buy her a comb or something. It’s enough to give you cavities.” He stirred the gravy-potato mixture and polished it all off in three bites
    “A set of combs.” I took a sip of milk. “All right, neither one is a sophisticated story, but there’s real sentiment, real heart in