Ms America and the Brouhaha on Broadway Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Just thinking.”
    “I know what about, too.” Shanelle sighs, sets down her wineglass, and rises to her feet. “Let’s get this over with. Who else wants to change before we head back to the theater?”

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    “We’re going back to the theater?” Trixie sputters. “At this hour?”
    “Sure enough are,” Shanelle says. “On your feet.”
    Shanelle must have serious leadership skills because a second later Trixie and I are both vertical. “How did you know I was going back to the theater tonight?” I ask. “I planned to wait until you two fell asleep before I snuck out.”
    “What?” Trixie cries. She’s clearly aghast at my treachery.
    Shanelle just puts her hands on her hips. “Girl, what kind of fool do you take me for? The day will never dawn when you do not want to check out a crime scene while the blood’s still fresh.”
    “But you keep telling me there’s no crime scene here. That’s Lisette’s fall is just an accident.”
    “I keep saying that because it’s true! You can search that dang theater all you want, but you won’t find a thing.”
    “You don’t know that for sure. And as much as I’d love your company, I don’t want you going back with me unless you’re willing to take it seriously.”
    Shanelle deflates after that. Trixie rubs my arm. “I want to go. And I’m sure both Shanelle and I can keep an open mind.”
    Shanelle harrumphs. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is that the faster I can get this murder idea out of your mind, the faster we can enjoy New York City. So let’s get a move on.”
    We’re out the door in short order. I’ve changed into skinny jeans, a turtleneck, and my black quilted jacket with faux-fur lining at the hood. My footwear is cozy, too: black booties with a foldover cuff and wool lining that feels just like shearling. Only a three-inch heel, too! Talk about practical.
    We hail a cab as quickly as if it were high noon and squeeze in the back. “You’d have to be very brave to do this alone, Happy,” Trixie whispers as dark Manhattan streets fly past.
    “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Major crime citywide dropped five percent last year. I looked it up. Plus, I’ve got this.” I show off the sequined pepper spray that lives in my crossbody clutch. Criminals might mistake it for a beauty aid, but I know I’m ready for anything.
    “It’s not crime I’m worried about,” Trixie says. “It’s ghosts. You know how haunted Broadway theaters are. And here we are going into one after midnight. By ourselves. Where somebody just died.”
    I fall silent. Trixie speaks the truth. I looked up Broadway hauntings, too. I do a lot more reading on that topic than I used to. It’s embarrassing, but it’s because it makes me feel closer to Mario. He is, after all, the world-renowned host of America’s Scariest Ghost Stories .
    “I’m sorry,” Trixie murmurs. “I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
    “It’s all right.” I let out a sigh. “I can’t make Mario, or everything that has to do with him, a verboten topic.” We stop at a red light and a young couple crosses the street in front of us. They look in love. Their heads are bent together, they’re chatting quietly, and she’s clutching his arm as tight as can be. “It’s just all that stuff in the tabloids. It bothers me even though it shouldn’t. It so totally shouldn’t.”
    “That stuff is all wrong, anyway,” Shanelle says. “You can’t trust it.”
    “Pictures don’t lie. And the pictures prove that Mario took Esperanza Esposito to that New Year’s Eve party in Malibu.”
    It was at some splashy beachfront compound. Everybody who was anybody was there, apparently, including a beaming Mario Suave and, on his arm, Esperanza Esposito, star of the telenovela sensation Todos Los Días . A woman who, even I have to admit, is perfect for him. She shares his heritage, his native language, his fabulous looks, even his work history. Mario got his start