Let's Play Dead

Table of Contents

 

“She’s smart, she’s savvy, and she’s sharp enough to spot what really goes on behind the scenes in museum politics. The practical and confident Nell Pratt is exactly the kind of sleuth you want in your corner when the going gets tough. Sheila Connolly serves up a snappy and sophisticated mystery that leaves you lusting for the next witty installment.”

—Mary Jane Maffini, author of the Charlotte Adams Mysteries

 

“
National Treasure
meets
The Philadelphia Story
in this clever, charming, and sophisticated caper. When murder and mayhem become the main attractions at a prestigious museum, its feisty fundraiser goes undercover to prove it’s not just the museum’s pricey collection that’s concealing a hidden history. Secrets, lies, and a delightful revenge conspiracy make this a real page-turner!”

—Hank Phillippi Ryan, Agatha Award–winning author of
Drive Time

 

“Sheila Connolly’s wonderful new series is a witty, engaging blend of history and mystery with a smart sleuth who already feels like a good friend. Like all of Ms. Connolly’s books,
Fundraising the Dead
is hard to put down. Her stories always keep me turning pages—often well past my bedtime.”

—Julie Hyzy, national bestselling author of
the White House Chef Mysteries

 

“Old families, old papers, and the old demons of sex and money shape Connolly’s cozy series launch, which will appeal to fans of her Orchard and (as Sarah Atwell) Glassblowing mysteries . . . [The] archival milieu and the foibles of the characters are intriguing, and it’s refreshing to encounter an FBI man who is human, competent, and essential to the plot.”

—
Publishers Weekly

 

“Sheila Connolly’s Orchard Mysteries are some of the most satisfying cozy mysteries I’ve read . . . Warm and entertaining from the first paragraph to the last. Fans will look forward to the next Orchard Mystery.”

—
Lesa’s Book Critiques

 

“An enjoyable and well written book with some excellent apple recipes at the end.”

—
Cozy Library

 

“The mystery is intelligent and has an interesting twist . . .
Rotten to the Core
is a fun, quick read with an enjoyable heroine.”

—
The Mystery Reader
(four stars)

 

“Delightful . . . [A] fascinating whodunit filled with surprises.”

—
The Mystery Gazette

 

“[A] delightful new series.”

—
Gumshoe Review

 

“The premise and plot are solid, and Meg seems a perfect fit for her role.”

—
Publishers Weekly

 

“A fresh and appealing sleuth with a bushel full of entertaining problems.
One Bad Apple
is one crisp, delicious read.”

—Claudia Bishop, author of the Hemlock Falls Mysteries

 

“A delightful look at small-town New England, with an intriguing puzzle thrown in. And anybody who’s ever tended a septic system is going to empathize with amateur detective Meg Corey.”

—JoAnna Carl, author of the Chocoholic Mysteries

 

“A promising new mystery series. Thoroughly enjoyable . . . I can’t wait for the next book and a chance to spend more time with Meg and the good people of Granford.”

—Sammi Carter, author of the Candy Shop Mysteries

 

 

ONE BAD APPLE
ROTTEN TO THE CORE
RED DELICIOUS DEATH
A KILLER CROP

 

FUNDRAISING THE DEAD
LET’S PLAY DEAD

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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

LET’S PLAY DEAD

 

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / July 2011

Copyright © 2011 by Sheila Connolly.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

ISBN : 978-1-101-53997-2

BERKLEY
^®
PRIME CRIME

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
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PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

The setting for this book was inspired by Philadelphia’s outstanding children’s museum, Please Touch, where I worked several years ago. The core philosophy that kids should be free to enjoy the whole museum experience, which means being able to touch and even climb on the exhibits, was and is wonderful. While the physical setting in this book bears no resemblance to the real museum, and none of the characters are based on anyone there, past or present, I did borrow the hands-on spirit.

There is no Harriet the Hedgehog series (although maybe there should be!), and most children’s book writers I’ve met have been delightful people, not prima donnas.

Thanks as always to my perceptive editor, Shannon Jamieson Vazquez, who keeps forcing me to plug those pesky holes in my plot, and to my agent, Jessica Faust of BookEnds, who made this series possible. Thanks also to Carol Kersbergen, who keeps me up to date about goings-on in Philadelphia, and to former colleague Sherrill Joyner, from whom I’ve shamelessly borrowed a character I’m sure she’ll recognize. Paul Garbarczyk provided valuable information on how to electrocute someone (and if there are any errors, they’re mine), and thanks to Julie Hyzy for putting me in touch with him. And as always, Sisters in Crime and the Guppies chapter have been there from the beginning to cheer me on.

I wanted to lay my head down on my desk and weep. Or
pound my head on it. Neither was appropriate treatment for the lovely eighteenth-century mahogany desk that I had inherited from my recently departed predecessor. Somehow I had ended up with his position, a turn of events that I was still trying to figure out more than two months after it had happened. In a moment of dazzled weakness, I had said yes when the board had asked me to take over as president of the Pennsylvania Antiquarian Society.
Why
they had asked me was another matter altogether. That had been before Thanksgiving, and ever since I had accepted their offer, I’d been running around like a headless chicken trying to keep the Society on course. Luckily nobody had paid much attention during the holidays, but now it was January, a whole new year, and it was time to get things done.

So here I was, trying to wrap my hands and my head around running a historical institution with a creaking hundred-plus-year-old building in Center City Philadelphia, filled with literally millions of priceless objects relating to Pennsylvania history. I’m Nell Pratt, former fundraiser, currently crazy.

My most immediate problem was filling some conspicuously empty staff positions. The president slot was already filled, thanks to me. But that meant I had to find someone to fill my old position, since we couldn’t afford to let the pace of fundraising slow if we wanted to keep the lights on, and pay staff salaries, and beef up our security systems, and . . . the list kept going. At least I knew the right questions to ask of applicants for my former job. I was less well prepared to interview applicants for the position of registrar, the person who kept track of what we had and where it was—or was supposed to be, which was not always the same thing. The last registrar had been extremely efficient and meticulous in his record keeping, and finding someone to step into his shoes was not going to be easy, especially since we had difficulty paying competitive salaries at the moment.

And then there was the position of assistant to the president—in other words, the person who was supposed to be handling all the pesky details like scheduling appointments for me.

So, three important jobs to fill. And possibly more to come, if I didn’t manage to stabilize operations and convince my long-suffering staff that things were looking up. I wasn’t sure they were, but I had to believe that, didn’t I?

It was four o’clock in the afternoon. I had conducted six (at least, I think it was six) interviews during the day, and by now I was having trouble remembering my own name, much less what the applicants’ names were. I hoped I hadn’t insulted anyone, or worse, scared them away by giving them the impression they would end up working for a crazy lady who had no idea what she was doing. That would be me.

I compromised by laying my head on my folded arms, on the desk. No tears: I couldn’t afford to mar the original, highly polished finish on the piece. My respite was shortlived, interrupted by a knock at the door. Could I pretend to be asleep? Unlikely, and that would set a very poor example. For the life of me I couldn’t remember if I had any more scheduled appointments that day, but I wouldn’t put it past me to forget. Yet another reason why I was in desperate need of an assistant.