The Sandie Shaw Mysteries, Christmas in Chicago is Murder: Sandie Shaw, #2

By R T Green

A face from the past appears at a glitzy, high-society Christmas party in Chicago. An hour later, a body is found floating in the swimming pool. Are the two things connected?

Sandie and the team have been invited to a glittering festive party by a wealthy new client, who suspects her husband of being unfaithful. The object of his desires is also there, and the client thinks it a good idea for the guys to observe them at play, and see if they do anything to give themselves away.

Someone else is also present. Someone who knows too much about one of the team's very personal past life. Coming out of the blue, it is a disturbing and unexpected development. Then, as the merry-making continues, things turn even more worrying. A body is found floating in their swimming pool.

Sandie is convinced the mysterious stranger and the dead body are connected. There is no evidence to suggest that, but the face from the past is a coincidence she can't ignore, as well as a real threat to one of the team. To make life even scarier, before the police arrive on the scene the stranger has disappeared into the night.

The feeling won't go away there is a link. But with precious little in the way of hard facts, it's going to take a huge effort to unravel the thread that ties things together. Especially when matters become an awful lot more dangerous…

Check out the Sandie Shaw series on the rtgreen website.

And enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wise Owl
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201592820

R T Green

The RTG mission in life is simple... to not be like everyone else! ‘Going Green’ has taken on a new meaning, in the book world at least. Whilst we applaud the original meaning (ebooks are a perfect way to promote that) we also try to present a different angle to it. The tendency these days is that if you don’t look and read like everyone else, you don’t sell books. Maybe there’s some truth in that, but we simply don’t do it. The RTG books have been described as a ‘breath of fresh literary air’, and, by those discovering us for the first time, ‘unexpectedly good’. We know many readers prefer the same-old same old, and that’s fine. It’s just not what you get from the RTG stable. Those who know about such things said it would take five years to become a proficient author... I scoffed at that. They were wise. It took six. It’s one reason why even today we remodel existing books, and will always do so. Right from the early years the stories were always good, but were put into words less well than they could have been! These days we have several series and a few standalones, the hit Daisy series most popular amongst them. In everything we do, the same provisos apply – Never the same book twice. If we can’t think up a good story, it doesn’t get written. The RTG brand is about exciting and twisty plots, a fast pace which doesn’t waste words, and endearing (sometimes slightly crazy) characters. We can never please everyone, but it works for us, and, it seems, for those who appreciate our work. Enjoy! Richard, Ann and the RTG crew

Book preview

Introduction

1920’S CHICAGO. WHAT CAME to be known as the ‘roaring twenties’. For private investigator Sandie Shaw, ‘roaring’ was hardly the flattering kind of description she would ever give it.

Born and raised in the city, she despises everything it has become. In her view, Chicago typifies the false decadence gripping America. Only just recovering from the lawlessness of the days of the Wild West, her city and the rest of the country then entered the world war for a brief time, and when that was over, the whole nation seemed to lose all sense of reason.

People went crazy. Prohibition raised its ugly head, and the mobsters and the flappers took over Chicago. Her beloved city had fallen at the mercy of those who believed they were above the law... once again.

In truth, Chicago had long held the reputation of being the most lawless place in America. Prohibition, and corrupt governance, had handed a free ticket to the gangsters. It didn’t sit well with Sandie.

Taking over the one-man agency when her father died, and making it a one-woman operation, she knew from the off that in a male-dominated environment she had to be tough, and witty, to succeed.

And that keeping well away from anyone with a machine gun was a big part of staying alive.

She managed that, for eight years refusing to be drawn into anything mob-related. Then one day someone came to call, and without Sandie even realizing what she was getting into, suddenly everything changed, and it wasn’t a one-woman operation anymore.

Now they’re about to take on their first big case together... but they don’t even realize just how big it is until circumstances spiral out of their control.

It all begins with a high-society Christmas party, which is hiding dark and sinister secrets...

Enjoy!

Richard, Ann, and the crew

Christmas in Chicago is Murder

What Goes Around

‘YOU SEEM TO HAVE COME out of it all smelling of roses, Mrs. deMountford.’

Daphne narrowed her eyes at the woman sitting on the other side of the desk. Dressed like she was about to take dinner at the captain’s table on the Titanic, her overly-portly shape was attired in clothes that looked a little out of time. She forced a false smile. Old-fashioned or not, she vaguely knew the woman, and also the fact she and her husband were just as wealthy as she was overweight.

Daphne needed to set her opinion straight. ‘I have lost my dear husband, Mrs. Hardwick, and as yet the man who murdered him has not been apprehended. I hardly think I have come out of it smelling of roses.’

The woman blustered a vague apology. ‘Yes, yes, I know the story. But as I understand it, you were in the frame for his murder? Is that the modern phrase?’

‘I was initially accused, yes. Until we proved otherwise. I decided to become a private investigator after gathering experience from both sides of the bars, as you may put it... and to find my husband’s murderer of course.’

’Indeed. Very commendable, my dear. I was surprised to see your name on the advertisement in the Tribune though. Such career paths are not conducive to a woman, I rather think... especially one with black skin?’

‘And yet you are here, Mrs. Hardwick.’

She batted a chubby hand across her face. ‘Always up for a woman getting one over on a man, dear, no matter where they were born. Especially one who’s been through the mill, if you pardon the joke.’

‘You possess an incisive wit, for sure.’

‘I’m not quite the old battleaxe I appear, Mrs. deMountford. And perhaps, in the rather delicate situation I find myself in, a woman would be more appropriate to assist than a man.’

‘I thank you for considering me, Mrs. Hardwick. Of the three of us, two are women, and the other is extremely trustworthy, so you are in good hands should you choose to employ us.’

‘Yes. Indeed James was a fine, upstanding fellow. In his bookkeeping duties for my husband, he was more than sufficient.’

‘Yes, he was.’ Daphne closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to ward off a sudden mistiness. ‘So, how can we help?’

She looked down to her hands. ‘It’s a little... difficult, my dear.’

Suddenly, Daphne was reminded of herself, a few weeks ago. ‘I understand. I was equally reluctant when I came to Sandie for help... and I was totally misinformed, as it turns out. Please don’t be afraid to impart your fears.’

‘Thank you. My husband’s family made their fortune in lumber, and the slave trade, it has to be said. He is a good man, but of late, I fear he has tired of me.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘I am sure you are aware, rich and powerful men are always seen as desirable creatures, often by younger women. A man has to be strong-willed and devoted to resist such temptation. I am no spring chicken now, as I am sure you can see. And I fear the love between us I once saw as unbreakable has now broken. Oh, he denies it of course, and I have no definitive proof. I was hoping your agency could collect such proof for me.’

‘And what would you do with this proof?’

‘Why, divorce him for his dalliance... making sure I remain a rich woman, of course.’

Daphne tried to ignore the somewhat cold and emotionless words. ‘So what exactly would you want us to do?’

‘It is just a few days until Christmas. Tomorrow we are throwing one of our revered parties, to celebrate the festive season. My husband’s... um, friend and colleague will also be there, so I was thinking if you would like to attend as my guests, you could observe them at play, as it were, and report to me any signs you see that they are... more than just friends.’

‘I am sure we could do that. I quite fancy a little frivolity anyway.’

Mrs. Hardwick threw her a scowl. ‘You will be there to work for me, Mrs. deMountford.’

‘Yes, of course. I didn’t mean anything else.’

‘Good. This is the address.’ She handed her a slip of paper, and stood up to leave. ‘You will be well-paid, especially if you provide me with the evidence I require.’

She bustled to the door, and disappeared through it. Daphne watched from the window as she walked steadily across the snow-covered street towards the taxi rank, and her chauffeur opened the car door for her to sink her ample frame into the rear seat.

She shook her head as the car drove away, and glanced at the slip of paper. Like most people in Chicago, she already knew where the Hardwick’s lived, and that their elaborate parties were the talk of the city’s high-society circle. She and James had never been invited in the past, their financial standing not high enough up the food chain to merit such a golden ticket.

Now she finally had been invited, but not as a valued guest. She narrowed her eyes, wondering exactly why they had been asked to attend. There could be two reasons. For sure Mrs. Hardwick wanted to gather evidence her husband was up to no good, but was it so she could divorce him for his infidelity?

Or was it so she could divorce him anyway, and simply find a legal reason to do so?

Chapter 1

WE STOOD A MOMENT OUTSIDE the snow-covered terrace of Chicago City Hall, gazing up to its impressive classical-revival style facade. Archie let out a low whistle.

‘Gee... it must cost a fortune for our governors to be so corrupt, hey Sandie?’

I had to smile at his words. ‘They’re not all corrupt, Archie.’

‘Maybe not. But most of them are.’

‘I guess that’s why we’re here, to get the dirt on one of them at least.’

‘Press camera at the ready, boss.’

We were at the City Hall after normal hours for a reason. I guess you could call it a paid job, but in truth we were both eager to bring this one to a successful conclusion. A whistle-blower had approached us the previous day, saying she had some evidence of corruption relating to a high-ranking official.

His personal assistant, she had access to stuff that appeared to be a little suspicious. She also had access to his diary, although he wasn’t aware of that. She didn’t like what she saw. An honest citizen, she knew if she simply confronted him she would lose her job, and any likelihood of ever working again at a level higher than a waitress.

She had to pass on the information to someone not involved with the council, and hope they would do what was necessary to make him pay for his sins.

Enter deMountford and Shaw.

The evidence was compelling but not completely damning. We knew that somehow we would have to catch him in the act. The act that, according to the PA, happened three nights a week, and well after normal hours. The logical assumption was that on those nights he was meeting with similarly-corrupt officials, and hatching his shady schemes.

Archie’s sting when we had persuaded Donnie and Nancy to talk a few weeks ago had proved so successful we’d decided to make use of it more often. So, me posing as Mary Moonshine the reporter, accompanied by Archie playing Arthur Warburton the press photographer, with camera at the ready, were now about to march into City Hall and give the man in question something to think about. We’d previously tackled the mob and come out of it alive, so a mere corrupt councilor was just a walk in the park.

Having a compromising picture taken seemed to be something no dishonest person ever wanted.

Getting in was easy. Our whistle-blower PA had already briefed her friend the security guard, so he let us in, and then told us the after-hours meeting was in progress. We made our way to the fourth floor, and crept along the plush-carpeted corridor to the room we’d been told was his office.

We could see by the space at the bottom of the door the lights were on, as we expected. I put my ear close to the door. I couldn’t hear much of the kinds of conversation I really needed to, but I could hear an occasional laugh. A woman’s laugh.

Whatever corruption those inside were planning, they were having fun doing it.

‘You primed and ready, Archie?’ I whispered.

‘Finger on the trigger, boss.’

‘I take it you mean the camera, not your pistol?’

‘As if. I told you before, the pen, and the camera, is mightier than the sword.’

‘Just make it so, and make me proud, ok?’

‘Don’t I always?’

I couldn’t argue with that. The diminutive, ginger-haired young man at my side had been my rock, long before Daphne came into our lives. It was getting to the point where I wondered just what I would do without him. Even if he did wear waistcoats knitted by his mother.

I was still waiting with bated breath to set eyes on the Christmas-themed jumper, but luckily it hadn’t yet appeared.

I put an affectionate hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re a star, Archie. Let’s go dethrone a corrupt official.’

I threw open the door, and we strode purposefully into the office. We’d intended taking the people there by complete surprise, and we sure as hell did that.

We hadn’t anticipated they would take us by complete surprise too.

Notebook and pen at the ready, I called out the words before the door had fully opened.

‘I’m Mary Moo...’ The introduction trailed away, as did our forward movement. Suddenly rooted to the floor, we didn’t seem able to move. The corrupt high-ranking official was being corrupt for sure, but it wasn’t the kind of scheming shenanigans we expected to find.

As the young woman screamed, and pulled away from his grasping hands, I stared open-mouthed at the sight before my eyes. They both looked shocked, but one of them appeared a little more vulnerable than the other.

The girl, clearly a secretary aged somewhere either side of twenty, wasn’t wearing much at all. Busy undoing the shirt of the man grinning in anticipation, who had without doubt been corrupt several times already, her hands didn’t seem to know which bit of herself to cover up first.

Archie, initially just as stunned as I was, recovered quickly. The flash initially blinded them both, before Archie’s grinning face appeared from behind the camera.

‘That’s one for the album, boss!’

Chapter 2

DAPHNE TRIED TO SUPPRESS a grin as I got back to the office and told her about our evening. After the trip to City Hall, Archie and I had parted company. It was late, and he likely wanted to check on his mother’s progress with the Christmas jumper. Or maybe develop the photo, which was revealing in more ways than one.

I’d headed back to the office, where Daphne was waiting to drive us home to Braeside.

She sounded quite amused. ‘I suppose in one way the outcome was not what the client expected, but in another...’

‘It turned out alright on the night,’ I said, only a little sarcastically.

‘I doubt he’ll get into trouble officially, they’re likely all at it... but I wouldn’t wish to be in his shoes when it gets back to his wife.’

‘Which it surely will. That PA is gunning for him, one way or the other.’

‘A satisfying night’s work then, Sandie. I need to tell you I took another job today. Someone came to see me this afternoon. Mrs. Hardwick.’

‘Not the lumber-baron’s wife, surely?’

‘One and the same. We’ve been invited to their Christmas party tomorrow night.’

Instantly, the bell of suspicion rang in my ears. ‘I take it there’s a reason we’ve been given golden tickets?’

She told me exactly why we had, confirming the fact the likes of us would never be granted access in normal circumstances. But paid job or not, it sounded like a better way to spend the evening that hiding in dark doorways.

‘I think all my Christmases have come at once, Daphne.’

She detected the note of sarcasm. I hadn’t tried to hide it after all. ‘So you think you can hob-nob with your second least-favorite side of Chicago life without running to the washroom to vomit in disgust?’

‘It depends how good the illegal champagne is.’

She laughed. ‘We’ll make a society lady of you yet. Come on, it’s late. Let’s go home, and find something to wear.’

‘No knitted waistcoats, ok?’

Archie grinned at my irreverence as we sipped late-morning coffees in the office. ‘Actually, bosses, I do possess a tux.’

‘You never cease to amaze me.’

‘Not worn it since the end-of-school ball, but I think it still fits.’

‘Can’t wait to