High Flying Murder: A Molly Wright Cozy Mystery, #2

Prologue

Hannah Brady

"L adies and gentleman, lads and lasses, put your hands together if you will be so kind, for the amazing and daring feats of our star performer. She is the High Empress of the high wire. The Contessa of contortion. The woman who defies both gravity and belief. Please enjoy the acrobatic amazement of… the Soaring Swan!"

That was her cue. Above the heads of the crowds she soared, swinging out on the handle of a trapeze, the frilled skirt of her white leotard floating around her thin and strong body like the wings of the swan for which she had been named.

Hannah Brady counted in her mind. One, two, three… Then she released her grip and tucked her body into a tight ball that created a rotational spin that would look spectacular from below.

That was the science. The rest of it was pure talent.

One… Two… Three.

Hannah Brady, the Soaring Swan, let go of her ankles and came out of the spin at the exact moment to catch hold of the other trapeze, swung to her by another performer in the circus act. There was a single moment of panic as her fingers almost didn’t make their grip. Then she was already in position for the next part of her act.

She frowned briefly before smoothing her face into a smile again. The timing had been a full second off, and that horrible little wretch who sent the trapeze out for her had done it on purpose! Hannah was sure of it. Hannah could not accept mistakes on this level. A mistake this high off the ground, without the benefit of a net, could get one killed.

Of course, she never made mistakes. She was perfect. If only everyone else would learn from her example.

The rest of the routine went forward with no further issues. She walked the tightrope, and spun in mid-air, and floated with her arms outstretched as if she really were a swan. Her blonde hair began to fray from its tight braid just as she was performing her signature end move, but she didn’t mind. It added to her glory. The hair framed her as a halo would. She was an angel come to entertain the poor and the lost. They glorified her with their applause, and she spread her arms in time to catch the two rings and spin herself up, legs held in a plank split, for a count of three.

One… Two… Three.

Perfection.

When the applause reached its crescendo she hooked one foot in a ring and let the roustabouts lower her to the ground safely. She bowed, and she smiled, and she blew kisses with her fingertips. They loved her. As well they should.

When she danced behind the curtains that hid the organized chaos of a professional travelling troupe from the show ring, she let her smile drop. Someone handed her a towel and she snatched it away to dab the sweat from her neck and face. Everyone gave her a wide berth. They knew her moods by now. Her glower could have melted stone. Smart people stepped off.

Which was why she was so unsurprised to see Juliet Levy rushing over to meet her instead of running away. Juliet was still too naïve to see the danger she put herself in by seeking out Hannah at that exact moment. Juliet was always around. She was the second acrobat in a sideshow that could barely afford Hannah’s talent. She was hardly ever in the spotlight. She was always the one standing off to the side, in the dark, throwing her the trapeze or holding the rope. Her little shadow, Hannah thought with a smirk. Always hanging on her proverbial coattails and hoping for more.

Great performance, Hannah, Juliet told her with a smile. Admiral Friendly is still taking his bows.

Admiral Friendly was Hollis Gibbs, the sideshow owner and its ringmaster. She had no doubt he was soaking up the applause still. He knew Hannah’s worth. This place would be nothing without her.

Just as Juliet would be nothing if she hadn’t picked the little girl up from the county fair where she was performing for naught but lunch fare. The girl needed to remember her place.

With no warning, Hannah slapped her across her cheek.

You nearly botched the whole thing! she hissed at Juliet, frost creeping around the edges of her voice. How many times must I tell you, it’s a count of three. Three! What if I miss that trapeze up there? Hmm? Who is supposed to replace me if I ever broke a leg?

Juliet cowered, bringing both hands up to her small chest, her big doe-like brown eyes blinking away the tears from the sting of Hannah’s palm. Hannah sneered at her. Juliet’s moniker while performing was the Little Dove. It suited her personality. Mousy and timid. With that brown hair of hers, and the brown skin of her Greek heritage, perhaps she should have been termed the Little Wren. It was Admiral Friendly who made the final decision on les noms de scène however, and he had a thing for naming the acrobats after birds.

Get it together, Juliet, won’t you? Hannah was already tired of this conversation. If Juliet thought she could hold a candle to Hannah, should anything ever happen to her, like a broken leg from a fall for instance…

Oh! She did! Hannah could see the flicker of pride in the younger woman’s eyes. That would not do at all. You listen to me, you little vagabond! You shall never perform as the star of this circus! You don’t have a smidge of the aptitude for the high wire act that I possess. Not in the slightest! You stay in the shadows where you belong and be glad that we let you out to perform at all! Now, out of my way.

She shoved Juliet, sending her stumbling into the arms of the strongman, where she snuggled up to his chest as if there was protection to be found there from Hannah. No one was safe from her wrath, and everyone here had best know it.

And stay off my equipment, she snapped at Juliet over one slender shoulder. I can’t trust you to check it. I will do that myself before the next show.

There. Problem solved. On her way to her dressing trailer, she began humming a tune she recalled from her childhood. She felt happy, and glad that she was the best thing to ever happen to Admiral Friendly’s Stupendous Sideshow. Her star was definitely on the rise.

It was late in the evening now. The show didn’t begin until seven in order to give people a chance to have their suppers and still make it here in time to spend their money. Outside, the lights of the car park were a dim glare from the other side of the big top tent. They were in another fly speck of a town which meant poor set up conditions. Everywhere back here was shadows until she got closer to the individual dressing trailers. Hannah didn’t mind. She was the queen of this domain and no one dared do anything to the queen.

She startled when a man’s rough hand grabbed hold of her arm and then two sweet lips pressed themselves possessively over hers. She knew him in a moment, of course, but for that moment she thrilled to being taken like this.

When she could catch her breath, she slapped him on his chest. You! That scared me, you know. Then she laughed out loud and pressed herself up against him so that he could feel the rapid beating of her heart. It was a wicked trick he had just played, but she didn’t mind. This was the only man who would ever be allowed to touch her in this way. The only man worthy of Hannah Brady’s affections. His ambitions matched her own.

It was a shame they had to slip about and lay in wait for each other in the shadows like this, but part of her public image depended on men believing they could have her, someday, if they were extremely lucky. Not that they ever could, those drooling marks who paid to watch her in her skimpy outfits while their wives and kiddies sat there with them. They were all simpletons and fools. The most they would ever have of her is a smile and a wink. This man here was different. He was going to make something of himself. He had aspirations worthy of her, and she would share herself with him as she would never share herself with another ever again.

Only him.

Come on, then, she said to him. I’ve time before the end of show. I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t make it to see me, after all.

He shrugged, and held her hand tightly. I was delayed.

She laughed again. Oh? Am I to take that as a satisfactory excuse?

Then let me make it up to you.

Mmm. I do like the sound of that.

She led, and he followed, and the door to her trailer was shut and locked in no time at all.

Hours later Hannah dressed again, putting on her overcoat against the early morning chill. It was the wee hours of the morning when she went back to the big top. She didn’t mind. The show was long over, but that made this the perfect time to check over her equipment. No one else would be around. The marks had gone home, and the performers and other sideshow employees had all gone off to find sleep. Her bed in her trailer was thoroughly a mess, but her companion had left while she napped and she had no one to impress. She would make it tomorrow morning, as usual. There was always tomorrow for such things.

Under her coat, she had dressed again in her leotard and her white pantyhose and her pink slipper shoes. It was the outfit she would be wearing next time she went up to the high wire. If she was going to check her equipment best to do it proper.

At the foot of the nearest support pole, she dropped her coat to the sawdust-covered ground.

First, she looked over all of the guy wires and security pins keeping the poles in place at either side of the center ring. Everything looked tight and in place. At least Juliet and the roustabouts hadn’t messed this up! Next, she began climbing up the rungs of the right-hand pole. It took her less than a minute to make it to the top. She timed herself so she would know.

Most of the lights in the big top were off. She blamed that for not seeing the man up top on the platform until she was pulling herself up there herself.

Oh, she said in surprise. Then she laughed. He wore a long dark cloak and a plastic, gold-colored piece of fabric for a mask. You look ridiculous, she told him as she held her arm up for his help.

He took her hand and held onto her until she had her footing.

She looked down at the drop meters below. Well. I never thought I’d see you up here. Why don’t you just take the mask off? I know who you are.

With one hand, he removed his mask and held it out, dropping it into the air to let it flutter to the ground. He smiled.

I know you too, Hannah.

The shove that sent her flying off the platform was sudden and unexpected. Hannah flapped her arms, spinning and tumbling like this was just another one of her performances. She needed to fly. She needed to soar like the swan she was named after.

Please God let me fly like a swan!

The ground was coming. One…

It turned out she couldn’t fly.

Two…

She wasn’t perfect after all.

Three.

1

Coming back from holiday in Somerset, Molly Wright laid her head against the window of Paul’s car. He was driving, and she was drifting off. They’d had two weeks of taking forest walks and staying in quaint little villages full of thatched cottages and sampling cream teas. Fun and relaxation and no worries except each other. It had been a good time for both of them.

The highway hummed under their tires. It was seven hours from Somerset to her home in Little Clegghorn. They had started out midmorning after a late start and an absolutely brilliant brunch at this marvelous café overlooking a waterfall. The drive had been easy and the colors on the leaves were just gorgeous to behold. It was Autumn after all, and a perfect time to get away before the next school term started.

Paul Greenwood was a proud member of Little Clegghorn’s police force, and thus his schedule was as busy as any small-town constable’s could be, but he was a good man and willing to rework his schedule to fit hers. A teacher’s life was fairly set in stone from start of term to finish. At least it was if you were a teacher of math at the local Secondary school as Molly was, and you cared for your students as if they were your own family.

Little Clegghorn was a small town with a rich history, full of lively people and tree-lined streets, Wi-Fi spots and telephone boxes, buildings from the late 1800s and new prefab big box stores. It was a mix of the old and the new and Molly couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

The drone of the tires lulled her and let her thoughts drift.

Are you asleep, then? Paul asked as he slowed for a bend in the highway.

No, she assured him, cracking open one eye to prove it.

He smiled, but kept his attention on the road. He was such a handsome man, in that boy-next-door way that she had always favored. Cropped brown hair, deep green eyes the color of newly mown grass, and a strong jawline. It was a treat for her to see him in jeans and a plain grey pullover. At home, he was more often in his police uniform than out of it. Although, she thought with a giggle, she did enjoy the moments when he was out of uniform. He would never do for the movies, perhaps, but she counted herself lucky to have him in her life.

Then again, she would never give Melissa McCarthy a run for her money either. Molly was quite happy with herself, especially now that she had a man who would tell her for no particular reason that she was pretty and mean every word of it. She was a bit on the pudgy side perhaps but that was what an addictive habit of sweets would do to a lady’s waistline. Still, Paul loved to run his fingers through her short brown hair and he thought her green eyes were reflective of her soul, he said, deep and full of hidden mysteries.

He could wax philosophical, he could, whenever they were in bed together and whispery talk turned silly. Still. It made her feel more of a twenty-year-old again, instead of a grown woman of thirty-six.

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