Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) by Dane McCaslin Page A

switched into Miss Jo’s persona anyway.
    She sat where I indicated but didn’t say anything right away. That was OK. I needed a moment to get my own thoughts together. When she finally opened her mouth, what came out startled me to no end.
    ‘Jo, I’m pretty sure that there’s something up with Miss Bea and Miss Lucinda.’ She looked at me with trusting eyes, waiting for me to reassure her that, no, indeedy, nothing was the matter and why in the world was she even thinking like that?
    I looked back at her, then asked, ‘What’s made you think that, Leslie?’ I wanted to hear her take on matters, to see if it matched my own concerns.
    I think that I astonished her. It astonished me, sitting here and talking about Miss Bea as if she was some sort of monster. Which she might just be, at least according to Miss Lucinda.
    ‘I am so worried about Miss Bea,’ Leslie began, her voice hesitant, maybe doubting her own intuition. ‘That Lucinda Becklaw is up to no good.’
    Now it was my turn to be silent. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of a suitable response. I had been so geared up to hear something about how Miss Bea was turning out to be a reincarnation of Mrs Fiornelli that I hadn’t stop to think that Miss Lucinda might, indeed, be the bad one here, out to harm our sweet Miss Bea (she had already assumed her former label in my mind) and ruin our troupe.
    Thankfully my tongue recovers quickly.
    ‘Now, Leslie,’ I said, giving my mind time to catch up to my mouth. ‘Now Leslie,’ I repeated, ‘what makes you think that Miss Lucinda is up to no good?’ This I had to hear.
    Now it was Leslie’s turn to be tongue-tied. That condition sure was catching.
    ‘I’m not sure why I even think that,’ she finally said, one hand picking at a loose thread on my bedspread. ‘There’s just something – well, the woman just strikes me as being a bit underhanded.’ She said that last part with her chin slightly lifted as if she expected me to give her an argument. Instead, I said nothing, just nodded slowly.
    ‘You think so too?’ Leslie’s voice had raised a pitch or two, and I quickly leaned over to shush her, pointing with my free hand toward the direction of the living room. Miss Bea’s door had opened very quietly, but my ears had caught the dragging sound as the badly hung door moved across the carpet.
    We both sat quietly for a moment then both began to speak at once, talking in an overly-cheery manner about the evening’s performance. When I was sure that she had gone back to her room and closed the door, I spoke:
    ‘Look, Leslie, we can’t go around suspecting old women of anything except maybe cheating at bingo.’ I spoke in what I hoped was a tone of assurance, but I still had the niggling doubts in my mind – and now they had doubled. Good Lord, I thought. What in the world have I gotten myself into?
    I reached over and gave Leslie’s hand a reassuring pat. ‘Let’s just forget this for the time being and survive this first performance. If you’re still feeling this way tomorrow, let’s talk about it again. Maybe even with Derek and LJ, just to get a guy’s perspective. It might just be us.’
    Leslie smiled at me. ‘You know exactly how to make me feel better, Jo,’ she said, leaning over and giving me a quick squeeze.
    I smiled in what I hoped was a positive manner. I had never felt more negative vibes in my entire life. Well, except for the time I had to spend the afternoon with Crazy Great-Aunt Opal, cleaning out her sewing basket and listening to her stories about ‘life on the inside’, as she called her assisted-living luxury apartment.
    Other than that, life was peachy.
    Before I knew it, it was time to hit the road and scoot on over to the Silverton County Fairgrounds. Miss Bea’s driving was a bit more erratic than usual, but that might have just been director’s jitters. I fervently hoped that was it.
    Be that as it may, we eventually arrived in one piece, parking the