Half-Price Homicide Read Online Free Page A

Chrissy.”
    “I’ll see about Jordan.”
    Helen was almost at the dressing room when she heard Vera scream.
     

Chrissy was bizarrely beautiful in death. Her head drooped and her spun-sugar hair fell forward to hide the horrors of her hanged face. Her noose was a brilliant blue scarf. Chrissy hung on a wall hook meant for dresses. The flowered summer dress she was supposed to try on was draped on a white chair.
    “She hung herself with a designer scarf,” Vera said. Her voice trembled. All trace of the cool, hip Vera was gone. Live radio didn’t prepare her for a dead customer.
    “It’s Gucci,” Jordan said, her voice flat with shock. “Why would she commit suicide?”
    Vera said some words the FCC still wouldn’t allow on the air. “Why the hell did Chrissy commit suicide in my store? Why couldn’t she use her car? Or her home?”
    Then she stopped suddenly. “What’s wrong with me? I’m a total bitch,” Vera said. “Poor little Chrissy was afraid to go home to that bully. She killed herself to avoid him.”
    “I don’t get it,” Jordan said in that strange, flat voice. “How could she commit suicide? Chrissy didn’t jump off the chair. It’s not turned over or anything.”
    “Didn’t have to,” Vera said. “A girl in my dorm hung herself in a closet. She sort of bent her knees until she strangled.”
    “Ew,” Jordan said. She started to cry.
    “Maybe Chrissy didn’t commit suicide,” Helen said. “That’s blood on the dressing room floor.”
    “Since when did you become Miss CSI?” Vera asked.
    “Why would there be blood if she hung herself?” Helen asked. “See this?” She pointed to three dark dime-sized drops on the scuffed tile. One was slightly smudged. “Look at her head. There’s blood in her blond hair. Somebody could have hit Chrissy on the head and then hung her with the scarf. You can see more blood drips on the wall.”
    “Maybe you’d better let the experts figure out what happened instead of shooting off your mouth,” Vera said. “Personally, suicide would be better for me than murder. If my customers think a mad strangler is lurking in the clothes racks, they’ll be afraid to try on dresses in this store. I guess that sounds cold.”
    It did, but Vera had an excuse. “Shock makes your mind work funny,” Helen said. Her head felt like it had been kicked in a soccer match.
    “Is that a diamond Rolex watch on the floor?” Jordan asked. She spotted the designer watch in the corner below the corpse. “Where did that come from?”
    “The watch is Chrissy’s,” Helen said. “The clasp broke and she dropped it when Danny dragged her back to the dressing room. I found it on the floor and gave it to her when she was arguing with him.”
    “Looks like the glass face is broken,” Jordan said. “The hands don’t seem to be moving.”
    “Let me check,” Vera said. She bent to pick it up.
    “Don’t!” Helen said. “That’s evidence for the police. We should call 911. Right now. Otherwise, the homicide detectives will wonder why we waited.”
    “How do you know about homicide detectives?” Vera asked.
    “I was at a wedding where the groom was killed earlier this summer.”
    “Oh, right,” Jordan said. “Was that the gossip dude on Hendin Island? King What’s His Name?”
    “Kingman Oden,” Helen said. “I was at the wedding. I met a Hendin Island homicide detective after Oden’s murder.”
    “That’s good,” Vera said. “The east end of Las Olas is technically part of Hendin Island. You’ll get to see your detective friend again.”
    That’s what Helen feared. “He wasn’t exactly my friend.” She remembered handsome Detective Richard McNally with a shiver, and it wasn’t of delight. The last time she’d seen him, Helen had been in the hospital emergency room. McNally had threatened to arrest her if he ever ran across her again. Now here she was, mixed up in another murder in his territory.
    “You weren’t a suspect, were you?” Vera