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

hand work in her lap for a few seconds, then looked up at us, her dark, expressive eyebrows arched. She gave a kind of shrug-nod combination and seemed to shrink into the theatre seat.
    “Are you in the chorus too?” I ventured.
    Another half-shrug, half nod. She resumed her stitching.
    Not one to waste time or effort on a lost cause, Lily slid an exasperated glance my way and turned the conversation back to our favorite subjects. “So, which one do you think is the cutest: Danny, Neil, or Elm?”
    “Oh, definitely Danny.”
    Lily acted shocked. “How can you say that when Neil is so. . . ”
    We proceeded to pretend Janey wasn’t there.
    The girl was a fast worker, if a silent one. She hemmed four skirts that morning, all without exchanging a word with us. Her perfect, even stitches looked like a machine had made them.
    “What a snob,” grumbled Lily later that day at lunch, as we sat at the counter at Vickery’s. She took a gargantuan bite of her egg-salad sandwich. “All those New York City girls are.”
    “Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s gross. And I don’t think Janey’s a snob. She’s just shy.”
    I took the pickle chip from Lily’s plate and ate it. She hated pickles.
    “Not so shy with him.”
    Lily nodded in the direction of the entrance, where Chris Gold was holding the door open for Janey. With a little grin, she stopped and beckoned to him to bend down so she could whisper something in his ear. He nodded and broke into a smile, stroking his beard.
    Janey smiled back at him and imitated the gesture on her own chin. Chris’s guffaw filled the store.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    I dreaded the dance tryouts. Terence would be there and would probably chew me out for spying on him at Mason’s tire department. Which I hadn’t, I reminded myself as Lily and I consumed sandwiches at Vickery’s lunch counter. Not really. Okay, I was curious, but wouldn’t anybody have been? I mean, all that sobbing and pleading and everything.
    I longed to tell Lily all about it, but restrained myself.
    Terence didn’t wait for the tryouts to speak to me. When Lily and I pushed through the outer door into the lobby, he was there, standing by the ticket window.
    He uncrossed his arms and walked towards us. “Amelia, I need a word with you.”
    Lily’s eyes widened. She whispered, “Maybe he’s going to give you a bigger part! Good luck!” She patted my shoulder and hurried into the auditorium.
    “Come in the office.”
    He led the way. It was pretty Spartan, compared to the office my dad had out at the lumberyard. Just a large desk topped by a manual typewriter, three chairs, a telephone, and a filing cabinet, but the walls were covered with at least a dozen huge black-and-white photos of members of the cast in other plays.
    Every one of the professional performers was represented. There was even a larger version of what I thought of as Terence’s Elvis picture from The Rockets .
    At this moment his face didn’t look much friendlier than Elvis’. His rusty eyebrows were dipped in a deep frown and his dancer’s posture was hunched a bit, as if he was either sad or about to spring.
    “Sit down,” he ordered, taking the chair behind the desk.
    I sat. “Look, Mr. Jamison, I’m sorry about—”
    He held up his hand and shook his head. “I’m Terence, remember?” His tone of voice sounded friendlier, so I relaxed a little. “I wanted to personally ask you for a favor.”
    This wasn’t so terrible. I took a deep, relieved breath. “Anything.” I immediately regretted saying it.
    Anything, dummy? What if he’s one of those lecher people you hear about who prey on young girls? Could Lily’s mother be correct in her suspicions?
    I was suddenly grateful that the thick, sturdy desk stood between us and mentally calculated the distance to the door.
    “Let me explain, Amelia. It’s about what you overheard at Mason’s. No, no, wait!” Once again he interrupted my eager apology. “I know you meant no