Becklaw's Murder Mystery Tour (Jo Anderson Series) Read Online Free PDF

vacuuming out the interior, which I felt had not been done for at least ten years. Or more.
    Miss Bea kept herself occupied bustling around the house, checking that the paper delivery would be stopped for the six days we would be gone, and that someone would be coming out to fix the rather large tear in the verandah’s screen door. I had to smile whenever I saw the hole left behind by the fleeing raccoon. I felt vindicated and a lot less worried about turning into a version of Crazy Great-Aunt Opal.
    Just a bit of background on my family: we tend to assign names to one another, such as Crazy Great-Aunt Opal or Sleepy Uncle Pete. While there are times these names are a good indication of the type of person they are, more often than not it’s a misnomer. For instance, Sleepy Uncle Pete wasn’t.
    That wasn’t the case of Crazy Great-Aunt Opal, though. She really was a one hundred per cent, bona fide nutter. Some said it was because of a broken heart, others pointed to the time that she fell out of the persimmon tree and did a number on the back of her head. I personally think it’s genetic, since her mother was also a bit gaga, shall we say. Which is why I was worried about myself and the “Raccoon Incident”. Having Miss Bea explain what had happened gave me hope that my marbles were still together.
    But I digress. As I was saying before I felt the need to explain my family’s foibles, I kicked it into high gear and got the four of us moving. While LJ tended to get more water on himself than the car, he still did a passable job. At least the road salt from the winter had been removed, and the scuff marks on the tires, from where Miss Bea would often scrape the sidewalk, were gone, replaced by a high glossy shine thanks to some elbow grease and tire cleaner.
    When we regrouped for a quick lunch of grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches and a heaped platter of Miss Bea’s garlic home fries, Derek was able to report that our reservations for two large trailers had been confirmed, and that yes, indeed, there were both hot showers and electrical outlets in the campground’s facilities.
    And indoor toilets.
    Leslie brought up the fact that we needed more sizes available for the dancer and ‘lady of the night’ costumes because, as she delicately phrased it, some would be able to ‘hold up the front’ and some wouldn’t. Derek understood and smiled, but I could tell from the look on LJ’s face that this was a concept that he didn’t quite get. He was really very sweet, I had discovered, and probably needed Leslie more than she needed him. Oh, well. To each his own, I sighed inwardly.
    I had spent the morning going over our roles and the plot of the performance. We had discovered several gaps in logic at the Moose Lodge dinner which, thankfully, the audience either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared about. I was determined, though, to put together a top-of-the-line murder mystery that would challenge our viewers for more than ten minutes.
    By the late afternoon we had done all we could do to get ready for our first real tour. The costumes had been sorted and packed, and the boys loaded the various boxes and bags into the back of the station wagon to save time in the morning. We had each packed a suitcase of personal items, as well as a few ‘modern clothes’ for whenever we might have a few hours to ourselves. I didn’t know about the rest of the bunch but I thoroughly intended to avail myself of the fun – and food – the county fair might have to offer.
    Derek took his turn cooking that night. I suppose I expected the typical bachelor fare: pizza, hot dogs topped with canned chili beans, and the like. Much to my surprise, he served up a meal that was on par with some of the best restaurants around.
    Dinner began with bowls of creamy tomato bisque, topped with a dollop of sour cream and home-made croutons. Luscious! Baskets of rolls that oozed cheddar cheese sat on the table, and I could have happily made a meal of