The Last Dance

by Sonia Parin

  The Last Dance

  A Dear Abby Cozy Mystery

  SONIA PARIN

  Copyright © 2018 Sonia Parin

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Dear Reader

  Cozy mystery readers have certain expectations, which might not appeal to readers not acquainted with the genre. I recently came across a definition of cozy mysteries which might help. “Cozy mysteries, also referred to simply as “cozies”, are a sub-genre of crime fiction mysteries in which sex and violence are downplayed or treated humorously, and the crime and detection take place in a small, socially intimate community. The crime solver is an amateur sleuth, usually but not always a woman, who is thrust into the aftermath of the murder.”

  About this book

  The entire town is buzzing with excitement and counting down the days to the most significant event of the year – Charles Granger’s Venetian Ball. Everyone is excited, everyone except Abby Maguire. She hasn’t been invited…

  When one of the most prominent guests suddenly dies, Abby can’t help wondering if she’d been deliberately left out of the guest list.

  With a town hungry for news and gossip, Abby and Faith set up their crime-board at Charles Granger’s mansion. This is the perfect setting to kick back and relax while Detective Joshua Ryan carries out his investigation. However, even when Abby Maguire takes a back seat, she somehow manages to stumble on a significant piece of information that leads her straight to the killer and to danger.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  “HAS THE ENTIRE TOWN BEEN put on house arrest? I had to drive twice around the block before I found a place to park. What’s going on today?” Abby asked as she strode into the Gazette. “There are cars everywhere but the place looks deserted. Where is everyone?”

  Doyle scurried inside and made a beeline for his doggy bed only to stop and look around. Lowering his nose to the ground, he sniffed his way around the newspaper office. Not a good sign, Abby thought.

  “Faith? Did you hear me?” Abby’s voice echoed throughout the office. She tried again, and still no answer. “Here I am, returning triumphant from the interview you set up for me and I have no one to share the news with.” Avoiding the loose floorboards, she strode down the hallway leading to the printing room and poked her head inside. Still no sign of Faith. “I’ve seen this type of scene far too often in movies.” Lowering her voice, Abby added, “Cue suspense music.”

  Moving from a large city to a small town had taken some getting used to. The smaller population. The slower pace. The long periods of eerie silence. But Abby had embraced the change. Of course, everywhere she went, she had Doyle by her side. Her canine companion could always be trusted to raise the alarm. No one could ever sneak up on her. Abby glanced down at Doyle and grinned. “Well? Did you pick up the scent of some sort of nefarious activity?”

  Doyle tilted his little head from side to side.

  “You sense something but you can’t quite put your paw on it?”

  He lifted his paw and looked down at it.

  Abby grinned. “Huh? Is that what you’re saying? Paw? What paw? Make sense, human.” Hearing the front door open, she swung around and rushed back out, Doyle following alongside her. “There you are.”

  “Yes, here I am but why are you here?” Faith asked and dangled a large shopping bag. “You need to hurry or you’ll miss out.”

  Abby tried to connect the dots. Faith looked both flustered and excited. Had something happened?

  Faith’s neat eyebrows curved. “The new dress you’re supposed to get. Remember?”

  “Clearly not. Remind me again and, where have you been? I called several times and left messages on your cell phone.”

  Faith set her shopping bag down on her desk. “You must be the only person in town not thinking about or talking about what you’re going to wear to the Venetian Ball.”

  Abby pressed her lips together and looked away.

  The Venetian Ball.

  The one she hadn’t been invited to…

  Everyone in town had been raving nonstop about the upcoming event for a month now.

  “Has the mail come in?” Abby asked.

  “Yes, I put it on your desk the same way I do every morning.”

  Abby riffled through the stack of mail.

  Nothing.

  It would be hard to miss. A month before, Faith had burst into the Gazette yelping and waving the envelope like a regular Charlie from the chocolate factory celebrating his golden ticket find. The envelope had been quite large, with a gilded edge and addressed in an elegant script. Faith’s celebration had lasted several minutes and then she’d made quite an event of opening the envelope and drawing out the card.

  After subjecting her hands to Faith’s scrutiny, Abby had been allowed to hold it, but only if she promised to only touch the card by the edges. Printed on thick velum paper, the invitation from Charles Granger had included an R.S.V.P. which had already come and gone.

  Why hadn’t she received an invitation?

  Abby hadn’t seen Charles Granger around town, otherwise she might have dropped a hint. She knew the owner of Willoughby Park, a local deer farm. They had met several months back. In fact, he’d offered to drive her to the picnic held at the lake not long ago, and he’d been a gracious driver and host, providing a magnificent luncheon.

  This was nothing but an oversight, Abby thought. Or… the invitation might have gone astray.

  Had it been delivered to the wrong address? No, impossible, she thought. The recipient would have re-directed it. Surely. Unless, the person who’d received it by mistake had decided to hold onto it out of spite because they hadn’t received an invitation either.

  As the only reporter in town, she should have been invited. Abby wondered if she should be sensible and call Charles Granger. The eccentric landowner lived on a large estate a few miles outside of town. Abby knew he had an assistant but she’d never met her. If she called, what would she say? By the way, where’s my invitation? She would come across as needy and desperate.

  “So… What did you get?” Abby asked.

  “The most gorgeous creation and I had to fight two women for it. Honestly, this is a small town. That sort of behavior is not supposed to be on display here.” Holding the dress by the shoulders straps, Faith drew it out of the bag, revealing it one inch at a time. “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful. Oh, you’re going to look so good in it.”

  “Feel the fabric.”

  “What little there is of it.” Abby smiled and pointed at the lowcut back. “It’s rather daring. How far down does that go?”

&n
bsp; “Far enough. I’ll have to hunt around for a pair of heels to go with it. I might even have to drive to the next town. I just walked past the shoe store and I saw three women fighting over the same pair of shoes and I swear not a single one of them would have been able to fit into them. You’d think none of them had ever been to a ball. Well, I haven’t, so I guess they haven’t either. We’re all so thrilled.”

  “I have a pair of black high heels you can borrow,” Abby offered. “I think we wear the same size.” She certainly wouldn’t need them.

  “Thank you. I’m going to try one other place. I remember seeing a pair of sling backs with a little bow on top.” Faith shrugged. “At the time, I didn’t think I’d ever get any use out of them. Anyway, what are you doing standing around? Go get yourself a dress. We’ve all been waiting for this shipment for weeks now. If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss out.”

  Glancing at Doyle, Abby smiled. “We’ve only just returned. Doyle wants his nap and I need to make sense of the notes I took. Remember, I went out to interview Kinsley Roberts.” And, she too had been talking about the upcoming event.

  “You can work on the article this afternoon. And Doyle can sleep all he wants while you go to the store. You should hurry. Half an hour ago, there were only a handful of black evening gowns left. Who knows if you’ll find anything now? You don’t want to be the person walking around and having other people point and say… Oh, I saw that dress, but it looked dreadful on the hanger. Gloria said she’s put in another order for more dresses but they might not arrive in time.”

  Abby scratched around for a response. “That’s okay. I have my little cocktail dress. It’s served me well over the years and is good enough for all occasions.”

  “Good enough? That won’t cut it. This is a ball. A Venetian Ball. You need a special evening gown, not a cocktail dress you drag out for any old affair.”

  Abby bent down and looked under her desk and peered through the gaps in the floorboard.

  Why hadn’t she received an invitation?

  ***

  “I’M SORRY, ABBY. YOU SHOULD have come by earlier. I had a new shipment come in this morning but the dresses sold like hot cakes.” Gloria Schultz, the owner of Eden’s one and only clothing store, Mannequin, flipped the Closed sign over. Clearly, she had done well enough to call it a day.

  Abby huffed out a breath. She couldn’t even pretend to be one of the lucky few attending the ball. Giving Gloria a brisk smile, she said, “I hear there’s another shipment coming in.”

  “It’s been delayed.” Gloria grabbed her keys and waved her toward the door. “Sorry to rush you. I’m already late for my hairdresser’s appointment. She managed to squeeze me in but only because she had a last-minute cancellation. I tried to make the booking as soon as I received the invitation for the Venetian Ball, but she was already fully booked. I got lucky. One of her customers ended up having her baby a couple of days early. I guess I’ll have to sleep sitting down for two days so I don’t crush my hairdo.”

  Abby tugged a lock of hair behind her ear. People were getting their hair done?

  “I don’t understand why Charles didn’t give us more notice. This is the event of the year. He’s throwing open the doors to Willoughby Park. I hear it’s quite splendid and as grand as any palace the Queen lives in. We should have had months to prepare.”

  A palace? Granted, Abby thought, the house did resemble an English country estate but it was just a house and Charles Granger hosted several events throughout the year, all organized to benefit the local hospital.

  Gloria checked to see if she had everything she needed. “Oh, I can’t remember ever being this excited. Not since my wedding and that was thirty years ago. A Venetian Ball. Just imagine it. I hear everyone will be issued a mask to wear. It all sounds so wonderfully magical.”

  ***

  ABBY COULDN’T GO BACK TO the Gazette emptyhanded. She simply couldn’t face Faith. Not yet. Not until she came up with a credible story for not attending the ball. She’d have to come clean and admit to not having received an invitation…

  She reached the corner and waited for a car to drive by. Crouching down, she hurried across the street and ducked inside the pub. She could only hope Faith hadn’t been looking out the window at that precise moment. Faith could be a hard taskmaster when she put her mind to it. In her opinion, Abby needed a new dress so Abby had to get a new dress.

  Abby knew she’d find some peace and quiet at the pub. After her failure at Mannequin’s, she needed to regroup and come up with a solid lie for not attending the ball.

  Abby frowned.

  A lie?

  Why not just tell the truth?

  She felt a rush of heat settle on her cheeks. The truth meant she’d have to own up to being excluded, and no one liked to be left out.

  Inside, she made a beeline for the counter and collapsed on a barstool.

  “What will it be?” Mitch asked. The co-owner of the Gloriana smiled from ear to ear and looked about ready to burst out laughing.

  Did he know something she didn’t?

  Had news about Abby not getting a dress, or even an invitation, begun to spread around town?

  “Coffee, please.” Abby glanced over her shoulder. Seeing only a couple of customers, she asked, “Slow day?”

  “The lunch hour came and went at the blink of an eye. People are rushing around making last minute preparations. Even Markus took off to try his new tuxedo on.”

  Markus? He had an invitation and Mitch’s brother had joined the frenzy?

  “Oh?” was all she managed to say.

  “I had a fitting last week, but I’m more organized.”

  Bespoke tuxedos?

  “I didn’t realize there was a tailor in town.”

  Mitch nodded. “He came out of retirement just for this event.”

  “I see.”

  Mitch leaned in and murmured, “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. Markus and I have been taking ballroom dancing lessons.”

  Markus Faydon, the bear with a sore head…

  Straightening, Mitch shrugged. “We’ve been to a few shindigs at Willoughby Park, but nothing will compare to a Venetian Ball. I hear there’s going to be a fireworks display. Charles wanted Hanna to do the catering, but Markus put his foot down saying he hadn’t taken all those ballroom dancing lessons to have his girlfriend slaving over a hot stove.”

  “Um, coffee?”

  “Oh, right.” He turned and got busy grinding some coffee. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, “So, have you decided what you’re going to wear?”

  ***

  WHEN ABBY RAN OUT OF excuses for staying away from the Gazette, she returned. If Faith asked about the dress, she’d… she’d have to lie.

  Or admit to the fact she hadn’t been included.

  Which would be worse?

  Pride had never figured prominently in her outlook; her personality simply didn’t need it. Until now. Would she lie in order to save face?

  Lost in her thoughts, she strode into the Gazette.

  “Hey, Abby. Look who’s here.”

  It took a moment to recognize the man from his back.

  Sebastian Cavendish.

  His grandfather, Dermott Cavendish, had owned the Eden Rise Gazette and had been responsible for luring Abby half way around the world to live and work in the small-town. When he’d met an untimely end, Sebastian had been generous enough to keep the small-town newspaper open in memory of his grandfather. Otherwise, he had bigger fish to fry, including his national newspaper, The Daily First.

  “Sebastian made a special trip to attend the Venetian Ball,” Faith said, her tone excited.

  Honestly, the next person who mentioned a Venetian Ball…

  Sebastian turned and waved hello. “A Venetian Ball in Eden. How could I miss it?”

  Abby smiled. “Sebastian. It’s good to see you again.” Had he come alone?

  Abby tried to remember if the invitation Faith had shown her had included a plus on
e. “Everyone is talking about it,” she said. “I’ve just been over at the pub and even Mitch is excited.”

  A lightning bolt idea struck. It came from right out of nowhere. Okay, Abby admitted, it had most likely surged from deep within her pit of despair and desperation.

  Her mind cranked up and started generating a few ideas. If she dressed up and showed up, she could linger by the door and wait for Sebastian to arrive, then she’d engage him in conversation and simply tag along with him. Everyone would assume she’d gone as his plus one.

  Doyle yawned and settled his little head on his paws, his large chocolate brown eyes giving her a head to toe look.

  “So, where’s your dress?” Faith asked. Turning to Sebastian, she added, “I had to shove her out the door so she could get to the store before they ran out. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she didn’t care either way about the Venetian Ball.”

  She didn’t. Not really. Okay. So, she couldn’t go so far as to say she didn’t care. Otherwise, she would not have spent so much time wondering why she had been left out.

  Now… Well, inspiration, motivation, and a pinch of creativity had sparked her enthusiasm. She might even go so far as to say she felt excited.

  A Venetian Ball!

  She would gate-crash it.

  Chapter Two

  ABBY FINISHED READING the last draft of her feature article for the week. Stretching and yawning, she looked over at Doyle. “The clock is ticking, buddy. I have two days to organize a gown for the ball.” Abby bobbed her eyebrows up and down and swiveled her chair. “Yes, I’m referring to the Venetian Ball.”

  Faith had been right. Her little black cocktail dress wouldn’t stand up to the task. She had worn it multiple times and had never had any reason to upgrade it. Now… She’d caught the bug and could feel herself swept away with the excitement that had been building up all month around town. The excitement she had been doing her best to ignore.