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

always been lean. He was playing Theodore Roosevelt, but this wasn’t Arsenic . It was a different play, San Juan Hill , about Teddy’s early years and leading up the Spanish -American War.”
    Lily reached into the trunk. “And check this out, Amelia.”
    She pulled out a glasses case. Inside were some funny-looking spectacles without the side hooks hanging from a narrow black grosgrain ribbon. She held them up.
    “He wore this in San Juan Hill . It’s a pince-nez. Look.”
    She opened the scrapbook to a page with a picture of Terence standing at attention in full old-fashioned uniform, looking just like a young Theodore Roosevelt, thin when compared with later photos of the president.
    “Be careful with that,” Pat cautioned. “Yes, that’s from the Roosevelt play and so is this.” She reached deep into the box, pulling back folded costumes and other odds and ends until she reached the bottom. “Here it is.”
    She held up a triangular, zippered leather case. “He bought this from the producer when the show was over. It’s real, but it’s never been actually used, at least not as long as we’ve had it.” She unzipped it and pulled out a long-barreled gun. A silver plate on the handle bore the initials “T. R.”
    “You say it’s real?” I asked. Even for a prop, it looked menacing. “Will it really shoot?”
    She nodded. “It’s supposed to. Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. It never was loaded in the play, either. It’s an antique, the same kind that Teddy Roosevelt really owned. Terence had the initials put on it.” She fished a small white cardboard jewelry box from a corner of the trunk and opened it. Three bullets rolled across the cotton. “These came with it.”
    She quickly replaced the lid and returned it to the depths of the memorabilia. “San Juan Hill was his first spoken role, you know. I was in the play too. That’s where we met. I played his niece, Eleanor Roosevelt.”
    I’d seen photos of Eleanor Roosevelt. She didn’t look anything like Pat. She must be a better actress than I thought. Or she had really good makeup.
    Pat replaced the gun in its pouch and began repacking the mementoes. She retrieved the key and re-locked the trunk. “I keep it here because it’s safer. Needless to say, it’s off limits when I’m not here.”
    We helped her push the heavy trunk back under the wide trestle table. “That was so cool, Pat.” I said, remembering my manners. “Thank you for showing it to us.”
    She rewarded me with another lovely smile and looked around. “Oo-kay, back to work. I’ve already started some of the costumes.” She gestured to several shapeless, sleeveless cotton garments hanging on a rolling garment rack. “We’ll alter them to fit. Now, which of you has sewing experience?”
    As a result of my dogged honesty, I was given ironing board duty instead of sewing. It could have been worse. I was to stand at the ready to press paper patterns, steam open seams and iron hems as it became necessary.
    We began work right away. “There’s no time to waste,” Pat pointed out. “We have to have more than thirty outfits ready to wear by dress rehearsal. That’s a week and a half.”
    Lily was put to work stitching seams by hand. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered to me through a mouthful of pins. “I should just take these all home and do ’em on Mom’s machine.”
    “Ask Pat about that.” I narrowly missed ironing my thumb. “I bet she wouldn’t mind.”
    She didn’t. “And if you can loan us a machine, please let me know,” she added hopefully. She glanced at her watch. “Well, gotta dash. Don’t forget, dance tryouts right after lunch. You girls keep up the good work.”
    We heard her wedge sandals clattering down the steps. There was a period of silence as we worked, but it didn’t last very long. We were young girls, after all.
    “So, Janey, are you from New York City like everybody else?” Lily asked.
    The girl stopped sewing, stared at the