A Killer Ball at Honeychurch Hall by Hannah Dennison Page A

class.”
    â€œOh, thanks,” I said, secretly pleased.
    â€œDon’t ever cut your hair, Rapunzel,” he said with a wink. “It’s beautiful. Good afternoon.”
    I could easily imagine that Bryan had been a bit of a ladies’ man back in the day. I returned to the kitchen and found that Shawn must have slipped in through the carriageway entrance.
    â€œIt’s all over the news,” I heard Shawn say. “I heard it on the radio on my drive over.”
    â€œAh, here she is,” said Mum. “What were you doing?”
    â€œI’ll tell you later,” I said. “What’s on the news?”
    â€œSounds like Ginny’s been busy spreading the word.” Mum pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.
    â€œJust that a double-hide has been found at Honeychurch Hall along with some remains,” Shawn said.
    â€œHer ladyship is going to love that,” Roxy muttered.
    â€œNo other details yet, of course, and that’s the way we want it to stay—at least for the time being.”
    â€œApparently, they’ve identified the body,” Mum blurted out.
    â€œAlready?” I exclaimed. “Who?”
    â€œWe got in touch with Interpol and we’re ninety-nine percent certain that the woman’s name is Pandora Haslam-Grimley,” said Shawn. “She was an American heiress. The DNA results from the lipstick should confirm it.”
    â€œI told you she was American,” Roxy put in. “The Lucky Strikes gave it away.”
    â€œThe last time anyone saw Ms. Haslam-Grimley alive was at the Honeychurch annual midsummer ball in 1958.”
    I looked to Mum who just shrugged. “Never heard of her.”
    â€œAccording to our sources, Ms. Haslam-Grimley was a bit of a free spirit,” said Shawn. “After her visit at Honeychurch she had made plans to go on a cruise. It was a full month before anyone realized something was wrong.”
    â€œNo one reported it?” I was stunned. “Not even her friends? Surely someone like Pandora would have attracted a lot of media attention?”
    Shawn cleared his throat. “Actually, it was overshadowed by a far more tragic event,” he said. “The dowager countess’s brother Rupert died in a freak shooting accident.”
    My eyes flew to my mother’s and I saw she’d turned pale. Of course we knew the real story behind the “freak shooting accident.” It had been the subject of Forbidden, my mother’s soon-to-be-published second book in her Star-Crossed Lovers series. But I wasn’t sure if Shawn was aware of the details. So much was kept under wraps in this household. It was hard to tell.
    As if reading my mind, Roxy said, “Another Honeychurch hush-up.”
    Shawn ignored her. “So that narrows the date down to mid-June in 1958. The police did retrace Pandora’s steps and someone did say they saw her getting on the train at Dipperton Halt, but they were unable to verify it.”
    â€œWho was the investigating officer at the time?” I asked.
    â€œHe died in 2003,” said Shawn. “And although my father became a police officer, he was just a kid back then.”
    â€œHow convenient,” said Mum.
    â€œWe’ll be working with Interpol on this,” Shawn went on. “But we wanted to get a head start, so to speak.”
    â€œBut we will be reporting our findings, Shawn,” Roxy reminded him. “So we’re starting with anyone who was here at the Hall in June of 1958—Iris?”
    â€œI can hardly remember what I had for breakfast this morning let alone where I was in 1958!”
    Roxy put down the plastic shopping bag to pull on her disposable latex gloves.
    â€œHere we go,” Mum muttered.
    With a crackle and flourish, Roxy withdrew the Bushman’s Fair and Traveling Boxing Emporium flyer. “Well, we can confirm that you were here in June of 1958.”
    Mum rolled her