Romancing the Gravestone (A Jane Ladling Mystery 1)

To Jane’s delight, she found the ensemble of the century at Très Chic Consignment. No doubt she would shine for Saturday’s performance. A flawless black gown touted as widow weeds. Lace and bustles abounded. She fell in love with the taffeta creation the moment she spotted the pagoda sleeves.

The day of the tour, she donned the garment eagerly. At first.

“Buttons are not for the faint of heart,” Fiona muttered from behind her, working another bead through its hole.

They occupied Jane’s bedroom. She leaned into a bedpost, still learning to breathe while wearing a corset. No wonder Victorian ladies required fainting couches.

She stared out the far window. A full moon tonight. What could be more perfect?

Throughout the afternoon, she’d caught glimpses of Conrad and Beau setting up more cameras and hanging lanterns to light the way, taking measures to keep her as safe as possible.

“The buttons just…never …end,” her friend huffed.

“Can you imagine doing this every day? And night!” Jane finished the mother-of-pearl fasteners on her cuffs. “God bless the inventor of zippers.”

“Indeed.” A pause. Then, “Hon? I want you to be careful tonight, okay? I mean it.” The older woman’s voice thickened. “You’re precious to me, and I promised your grandmother I’d always take real good care of you. Don’t go making me a liar, you hear.”

“I won’t.” Her heart squeezed. “I’ll be careful. And you’ll be careful, too.” Fiona would be manning the gate, taking tickets.

“Of course.” Her friend cleared her throat. “Now then. The buttons are done, but what are we going to do about the two-foot train? If left free flowing, those pleated edges will snag on the gravestones.”

“No worries. The material tucks in to create a triple bustle.”

“Oh yes. I see the hooks.” Fiona secured the designated fabric in place and patted Jane’s shoulder. “There. All done.”

“Not quite. Wait until you catch a gander at this.” She glided across the room, her shoulders ramrod straight. What was it about an elaborate Victorian gown that changed your attitude along with your posture? She lifted the lid from a hatbox and slowly drew out a six-inch top hat, complete with netting the hue of raven’s wings. Were angels singing? “I didn’t tell you, because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I finally found it,” she said, awe all but dripping from her voice. “The hat.” A tulle bow. Netting that spilled over the brim and along her nape. What could be better?

Her friend clapped in true delight. “Are you telling me you’re done buying hats? That your collection is complete?”

“Don’t be silly. Collections can’t be completed.” Jane turned to study her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on her wall. She looked incredible, if she did say so herself. Dark hair in a severe knot. Bangs perfect for once. The corset gave her a sultry, hourglass figure.

Motions careful, she secured the hat in place. Oh, wow. Yes. Yes! Even better.

What would Conrad and Beau think? Almost time to find out.

After one final glance in the mirror, she squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Chapter Thirteen

Denise Green

Now I Know Something You Don’t.

Plot 858, Garden of Memories

Jane looked out over the growing crowd in horror. Considering the number of tickets she’d sold, she’d expected a throng, but this was a mob. People never quit coming. There were far more bodies filling the entrance to the cemetery than tickets sold.

Had the entire population of Aurelian Hills decided to come tonight?

Sadly, no one else had dressed in costume. Well, unless she counted Conrad, and she absolutely did not. Some groundskeeper’s helper. He’d arrived in full Georgia Bureau of Homicide regalia, obviously hoping to scare off bad guys. His way of protesting her involvement. He hadn’t wanted her to run the tour, after all. Guests continued to cast wary glances his way. Jane only prayed the killer cared more about hiding his or her crime than evading the GBH.

“Did you have to bring the badge?” she whispered to him. Her nerves were slightly…frayed. At least he and Beau had built a small, makeshift dais to grant her added height. A queen who towered over her subjects. Well, most of her subjects. The two men who flanked her sides towered over her.

Conrad stood at her right, the unmissable badge dangling from a chain around his neck. He’d even worn a jacket with GBH emblazoned on the back, the huge letters noticeable from space. Probably glowed in the dark, too. It surprised her to know he’d left his bulletproof vest at home.

“And the gun on your hip? Seriously, Conrad.” This was supposed to be somewhat covert. Didn’t help that a glowing lantern rested at her feet, light glinting off the metal.

He flashed her a big bad wolf smile. “All the better to protect you with.”

Why, why, why did he have to be so shiver inducing? “You’ve got to dial down your level of menace, at least.”